16. CHAPTER SIXTEEN #3
That makes him smile. Eventually, somehow, the picture happens. Forty-eight kids. Coaches. Volunteers. Sponsor banner. Everybody in one frame. Half the children are making faces. One jersey is practically down to a kid’s knees. It is the best photograph I have ever been part of.
By twelve-thirty, the lobby is empty. Parents collect bags. Kids drag sticks. Somebody comes back because they forgot a water bottle. Another family wants one more picture. Then the doors close behind the last group. The silence that replaces them is shocking.
I stand in the middle of the lobby and take a deep breath.
Cole walks past carrying a bin. “We alive?”
I look at him. “I think so.”
“Cool.” He keeps going.
I laugh.
There are still about two hundred pounds of gear that need to be put somewhere before one. The registration tables have to come down. Trash needs to be collected. The sponsor materials need to be stored. But the event is over. Actually over.
Ives finds me near the office. She closes her folder. “How do you think it went?”
I stare at her. “Are you asking me because you know the answer?”
“I’m asking because I want your answer.”
I look through the glass toward the empty rink. “Good.”
She waits.
I sigh. “Really good.”
“What didn’t work?”
“The jersey sizing.” I nod. “Volunteer overlap could’ve been better. I needed one more person floating at the beginning. The photo block was too short.”
“What worked?”
I think. “Most of it.”
She smiles. “That’s generally what you’re looking for.”
I breathe out.
She tells me we’ll debrief in class, then leaves before I can decide whether I want her to say more.
I find Rowan sitting on the boards near the gate. He’s alone now. Mackey is in the stands looking at his phone. Rowan’s empty coffee cup is beside him.
I stop in front of him. “You’re still here.”
“Yeah.”
I look up at Mackey. “You have a game.”
He shrugs. “Tonight.”
I stare at him and then climb onto the boards beside him. The second I sit down, my body registers that I have been standing for approximately seven thousand hours.
“Oh my God.”
Rowan looks at me.
I explain, “I have been awake since four. Eleven jerseys were too big. Deb was late. Two children showed up in figure skates.” I turn toward him. “The mother of a child named Bryce asked me at eight-fifteen if her son could have a different-colored jersey. I told her no. She asked again at nine.”
Rowan chuckles.
“I’m serious. I wanted to ask her where she thought I was hiding the secret second set of forty-eight jerseys.”
“Should’ve.”
“I almost did.”
He looks out at the empty ice. “But you did it.”
The sentence quiets me. I follow his eyes. The rink looks completely ordinary again. Boards. Ice. Empty benches. You would never know what it looked like two hours ago.
“I did.”
“You were good.”
I look at him. There is nothing exaggerated in his expression. He says it the same way he says everything else he means. Simple. Certain.
My chest goes warm. “Thanks.”
He nods.
That’s enough for him. It’s not enough for me. I lean into his shoulder. He doesn’t move away. I sit there for a minute with every muscle in my body aching and think about the fact that I did not need him today.
I had Lisa. I had Cole. I had Gary and Ives and the volunteers and Donovan even though he pretended he wasn’t helping. When something went wrong, I fixed it. When I didn’t know what to do, I figured out the next thing.
The clinic would have happened whether Rowan walked through those doors or not. That matters to me. Maybe more than it should. Because I don’t want the important parts of my life to become important only because somebody loves me through them. I want them to be mine first.
This was mine.
And still, every time I looked up and caught Rowan somewhere in the building—on a bench with a skate hook in his hand, crouched beside a kid, carrying something without being asked—I felt better knowing he was there. Not because I needed him. Because I wanted him.
I tilt my head against him. “You should go.”
“So should you.”
“I have cleanup.”
“I can help.”
“No.” I shake my head.
He looks down at me. “No?”
“You already helped.”
“I can help more.”
“You have a game tonight.”
“I know.”
I sit up. “Go eat. Nap. Visualize hockey. Whatever you people do.”
“You people?”
“Hockey players.” I push his arm. “Go.”
He hops down from the boards. Then he turns back toward me. “Coming tonight?”
I look at him like he’s stupid. “Obviously. You thought I might skip it?”
He grins. “No.”
He steps closer.
Mackey is still in the stands. Facilities is somewhere behind us. We are not alone enough for what I want. Rowan seems to know that because he doesn’t kiss me. He just catches my hand for a second. Thumb across my knuckles. Then lets go.
“I’ll see you tonight,” he mutters.
“Yeah.”
He starts walking. “Rowan.”
He looks back.
I smile. “Score a goal.”
He laughs. “I’ll work on it.”
“I’m serious,” I say. “You haven’t scored one all year.”
“Thank you, G.”
“I’m just saying. Feels like a good day for it.”
He shakes his head and keeps walking.
I watch him disappear through the door. Then I look around the rink.
The event is over.
My event.
I did it.