Chapter 17
Landon
The tribute video to Grady and me comes in the first, during the first TV timeout.
As the ice crew shovels snow off the ice, the announcer says, “Last year our Cup run ended in victory in part because of two players who now sit on the visiting bench. Let’s take a look at all Grady Garrison and Landon Casco gave the Quake. ”
People cheer, mostly, as the video starts.
There are always a couple of idiots who have decided to hate us and are booing, but it’s very faint.
The video starts with a picture of me arriving at the rink ten years ago.
Holy crap, I looked like a newborn baby.
Grady’s clips are cooler. He looks like an adult because he was one when he joined the Quake.
He looks fucking hot in every clip, even the ones where he’s making saves like he’s made of elastic bands, arms and legs twisting and flailing in the right way to stop whatever shot is flying at him.
And then, the clips slip into off-ice stuff, and that’s when I start to freak out.
Because there are clips of us visiting sick kids at a children’s hospital and pictures of us huddled together in suits, holding cocktails, at one of the season ticket holder events.
We’ve got our heads tipped toward each other, and we’re both smiling secretively, like we’re sharing gossip.
And then there are some clips during practices and warm-ups where we’re doing our little rituals, stick taps and head nods, and mouthed words. “I got you.”
It all feels deep, emotional, and it would be moving if I didn’t feel so exposed.
Because now I see those moments for more than what they appear on the surface.
We were flirting. We were bonding. It was…
hot. The last clip, which I watch as I move my feet, skating down the front of the bench, through all the guys waiting for the timeout to be over, is of Grady doing his lap with the Stanley Cup high above his head and then handing it over to me as he whispers in my ear.
I can still feel the tingle that shot down my spine as his sweaty beard rubbed against my ear and neck.
The crowd roars as the screen flashes with the words Thank You 71 and 58. I come up next to Grady and use my stick to tap his ass. He looks at me, stunned, and I wink before I skate away.
I don’t know if it’s the energy of the crowd or the feeling that video left me with, but for the first time in months, I’ve lost that imaginary weight that feels like it’s strapped to my chest. It shows in my speed on the ice and the quickness in my shots, and I end up breaking my six-week dry spell and scoring.
Even more encouraging, I’m not on the ice for a goal against us, which is epic for my struggling stats.
I’ve been on the ice, as sportscasters are quick to point out, for every goal against us for the last two and a half weeks.
But not tonight. Of course, thanks to Grady, there is only one goal by the Quake.
We score four on them. My goal, one by Conner, and two by our captain, Abbott.
I’m in such a good mood when we get back to the locker room that even Coach’s announcement doesn’t bring me down.
“The snowstorm in Maine is so bad that we’ve been advised to ride it out here.
We likely wouldn’t be allowed to land anywhere in New England,” he says as he stands in the middle of the locker room.
“The buses are taking us to a hotel in Beverly Hills.”
“Oohh, swanky,” someone catcalls.
“Don’t order the room service, assholes, it’ll cost you a month’s salary,” Coach calls out as he leaves the room.
I look over at Grady, who is pulling off his pads. “Wanna grab Mexican at that place you liked by your old house?”
“No. I’m good.” He goes back to the tiresome job of removing all his equipment.
I remove my Kevlar neck guard and stare at him, but he doesn’t look at me or say another word. On the bus, he sits with Conner, and I sit right behind them. I listen to them talk about the game and then Christmas gift ideas for Conner’s foster daughter.
At the hotel, we get our keys and Grady saunters off to his room, which happens to be across the hall and three doors down from mine.
I go into mine and stew for a good half hour before I just can’t handle it anymore, and I head to his room.
The door opens as soon as I knock, but it’s Abbott standing there in sweats and a t-shirt, barefoot, not Grady.
He smiles. “Hey! I was coming to see you next.”
“You were?” I sputter and catch a glimpse of Grady stretched out on his bed. He’s wearing pajama bottoms and nothing else.
“Yeah, I have failed in my hospitality duties as a captain. I’ve been meaning to invite you two to dinner at my place. Grady is free Thursday,” Abbott says. “How about you?”
“Ummm… yeah. Sure. Thursday works.”
He looks pleased and turns back to Grady. “I’m heading to the snack room. See you guys later.”
I move so Abbott can exit, and then I step inside the room without an invitation and let the door close behind me. Grady doesn’t say anything. He just picks up his remote, turns on the TV, and starts flipping channels. “So that tribute was nice, huh?”
He nods. The TV lands on a station showing Friends, and he stops clicking. “Can you talk to me, please?”
Grady lifts his gaze to my face. “Really? Now? I have been trying to talk to you for two months, and you’ve been treating me like I don’t exist. I even attempted to try again on the way to the rink, and you blew me off while insulting me.
And now, because some video reminded you of the good old days, you want to act like besties again? ”
I have never seen Grady this annoyed. He’s always so chill and unbothered by everything.
He glares harder and folds his arms over his chest. “I’m sorry, my timing sucked with moving out.
But my intentions were honorable, and no, Landon, I don’t run.
I’d have gladly stuck around and helped you through the breakup if I thought I could do that as a friend.
But we both know there’s shit between us that isn’t just friendly and that would have not just blurred the line but annihilated it.
So I gave us both some space. So we could both see the line. ”
“So you didn’t want me to hit on you, so you left.”
“For fuckssake, Landon, stop thinking like a narcissist,” he snaps and elbows the pillow beside him before rubbing his forehead like I’m giving him a migraine.
“I gave us space so I didn’t end up as your revenge fuck, or rebound, or whatever.
Because firstly, those never actually help someone get past a relationship, and secondly, I didn’t want to be used by you like that.
It would have ruined our friendship worse than my moving out.
As soon as you and Angie were officially over, I knew if you’d had one weak moment, made one move on me, I would have totally let it happen because I spent every moment in that house with you wanting to fuck around again.
Leaving was about my lack of willpower.”
I stare at him, my lungs feel like they’re made of concrete, unable to expand. “Well, joke’s on you because I’m totally over my break-up, but the idea of fucking around with you again is still top of my to-do list.”
The room is nothing but Friends dialogue and audience laughter now.
Neither one of us is speaking. Neither one of us is moving.
We’re both holding our breath. It’s like someone hit pause on real life, not the television.
I blink and then suddenly, Grady is moving.
He’s off the bed, and in two urgent strides, he’s directly in front of me, grabbing my face in his rough hands, slamming his whole weight into me so my back hits the door with a thump, and crushing his lips to mine in a searing kiss.