Chapter 6
Chapter Six
TAI
“When did he have the stroke?”
The words echo through the training rink, where I have ten seven-year-olds stiffly trying to skate and control a puck at the same time. I look away from them, toward the entrance to the ice, and almost slip over myself at the sight of Hawke filling the space.
A few of the parents watching from the low stands glance our way.
“Will you be okay for a second?” I ask Elise. She’s worked here every summer since she was old enough in high school, and now that it’s her final year of college, this will probably be her last stint here, so I know she’s more than capable.
“Yeah, I’ve got them.”
I leave the group and skate over to where Hawke’s waiting, pretending not to notice the way he watches me approach.
It’s clear he’s had a rough night by his bloodshot eyes and the way his wavy hair is sticking up on one side.
Before I can get a word out, he makes it clear he isn’t going to accept anything but the truth.
“It was ten years ago, wasn’t it?”
There’s a long moment where I question whether it’s actually worth having this conversation. The distance between us is irreparable at this point, so it’s not like it would magically take us back there.
But …
If I have even the smallest chance to try and have some kind of friendship with him moving forward, I want it more than I probably should.
“The day after graduation,” I finally tell him. It was the day before we were due to fly out, and I spent the entire time worried about Dad and what was next to bother checking my phone.
At that point, hockey and everything else didn’t feel very important.
My team were great with the way they handled it, with delaying my start to see how things would progress with Dad, but no matter how much we both hoped for it to be good news, it wasn’t.
There were so many appointments and even more bills. I took any job that paid money and reached a point where the NHL felt like a dream. Something that wasn’t real and never would be.
I was bitter and depressed and hated that I couldn’t even talk about what happened to Dad without it sounding like I was blaming him, so I didn’t do it at all.
None of it was his fault. I knew it wasn’t.
But I was too in my feelings to deal with anything else.
So I’d done the only thing I could back then.
I cut off everything to do with hockey.
Including Hawke.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, heavy eyebrows pulling tight and voice getting louder.
I push past him. “Come with me. We’re not having this conversation here.”
I might not have been able to manage my reactions back then, but I can now. I’ve done a lot of work on myself, and I’m not about to have an argument in front of clients and my students.
Hawke follows me into the hall that leads to the changerooms. We’ve been here too many times to count, and I wish it felt like old times, but it doesn’t. Nothing with him will ever feel like it used to.
“So why?” he demands. “Why did I have to run into him this morning and get caught completely by surprise?”
“Because I hated you.”
Hawke’s face falls, and it’s clear that he didn’t expect that answer. “What the fuck did I do?”
“Nothing. You did absolutely nothing. I was mad, and I was projecting. I didn’t handle any of it well.”
Some of his angry shock loosens. “You could have told me.”
“I know.”
His confusion doesn’t shift.
“But I didn’t want to. I know it sounds ridiculous when I explain it, but I wasn’t in a good headspace.
I didn’t want to hear about you exceeding in your rookie year.
I didn’t want to hear about training and travel and playing every fucking day.
Because all it would have done is remind me of everything I was missing out on. ”
“Then why didn’t you let the team know what was going on? They would have held your spot until he was better.”
I give him a flat look. “You just saw him. Does he look better to you?” It’s not a fair comment when Dad doesn’t wallow over how things have changed, and he does do a lot for himself.
He doesn’t need constant care like he did in the beginning, and it’s rare these days that he has a bad mental health day.
“By the time he got anywhere close to being recovered enough for me to leave, I’d already been out of the game too long.
I would have been sent to a farm team, gone through reconditioning, and maybe even then it wouldn’t have happened.
I was never as good as you. And …” The truth of it all is that I was scared.
Scared that I’d leave and fail anyway. Scared that I’d leave and Dad wouldn’t handle it. “I needed to be here.”
“We got through everything together,” he says, almost like an accusation.
“We did.” And I want to be clear that this was my thing, and I own that I made the choice for the both of us. “Except this. It was shitty of me, but I did what I had to in order to protect myself. Maybe one day, you’ll see that, maybe you won’t.”
“Holy fuck,” he mutters, scrubbing at his face. “Just so you know, asshole, you needed me then. And you know I would have been there for you. Just like I needed you. Rookie year wasn’t easy. I struggled. A lot. Especially when my best friend up and ghosted me.”
“Yeah, but that’s what I’m saying. I couldn’t be there for you through that. I was maxed out with my own shit, and hearing you complain that all your dreams weren’t what you wanted them to be would have sent me homicidal.”
Hawke’s handsome face twists with offense. “You really think that’s what I would have done? No. I would have taken leave and come back to help you through it! I would have been there, every day, and fuck you for assuming it would have been any different.”
Out of all the possibilities I’d considered, that one wasn’t on the list. “I would have hated if you gave up your dreams for me.”
“It wasn’t your choice. Like Carly keeping Kasen a secret wasn’t her choice to make. And hell—maybe if I’d come back then, I would have found out about him. Maybe I never would have played hockey. Or maybe we both would have …”
He’s going through all the same emotions I did at first. But there’s one thing I’ve learned. “Maybes don’t change what happened.”
Hawke leans against the wall, still as impressive and confident as ever, even with the skates giving me an inch or so of height on him.
He crosses his arms, and it’s familiar, the way he’s trying to protect himself from this conversation.
He’s always been one of those larger-than-life guys who parties and has fun and puts on an act for other people.
I was the only one he ever let that slip with.
I wonder who he confides in now. “So I’m supposed to accept it all?
That I have a kid I knew nothing about who hates me and an ex-best friend who didn’t know me like I thought he did. ”
“You don’t have to accept anything. You’re in a shitty position.” I’m not blowing smoke up his ass either. I can’t imagine what he’s going through, and as much as I want to be there for him, I’m not deluded enough to think he’ll let it happen.
Hawke swallows, tilting his head forward like he’s looking at the ground, but I don’t miss the way he peeks up at me. “So … you know Kasen.”
“He’s on the high school team. It’s … obvious where he gets his talent from.”
“What’s he like?”
I almost laugh because now that I think about it, I don’t know how I wasn’t sure the whole time.
The similarities between them are uncanny, but time has a way of making things murky, and the possibility was too far-fetched.
I didn’t even know Carly was his mother, but now that I do, the surname Delany rings a bell.
“He’s a lot like you. Stubborn, hardworking, has this instinct for hockey like he was born to play it.
Keeps most of what he’s thinking locked up tight, but the whole team loves him.
” I give Hawke a rueful smile. “He’s smart too.
Obviously got that from Carly.” Hawke almost smiles back.
“Top grades in most of his classes. He stays back after training every afternoon and skates while everyone else leaves.”
“I want to know him,” Hawke says like he can’t hold it in anymore. “And no one’s giving me a chance.”
The whine in his voice is so unlike the Hawke I remember. “Since when do you wait for permission?”
“What do you mean?”
“I know it’s been a long time, but the Hawke I knew did what he wanted when he wanted it. That shithead might be buried now, but it’s still you.”
“You think I should force my way into his life and ignore everyone else? You sound like your dad.”
I shrug. “He’s a smart man.”
“He is …” Hawke’s arms are still crossed, but his tone has lost the edge it had before. I don’t know what this is, and I know we’re a long way from a friendly conversation, but I have to hope this is, well, something. A truce, maybe.
A tentative understanding that I fucked up, but I never meant to hurt him. Even though I did.
“I’m sorry,” comes out before I’ve completely thought it through.
“It just occurred to me that I didn’t say that part yet.
I am really sorry for blowing you off, Hawke.
Looking back now, it’s obvious where I went wrong, but I know if I was back there, I’d make all the same mistakes.
I don’t want you to think it was anything you did.
It was all me. And I really, really am sorry. ”
His arms drop to his sides, which could easily be a sign of forgiveness or a sign that he doesn’t care about this conversation anymore. “Okay. Thanks.”
“And if you need any help with Kasen, just ask.”
He nods, slowly, but doesn’t answer.
I know I need to get back to the class, but I also don’t want to end things this way. Short of begging for his forgiveness though, I’m all out of ideas. I’ve explained, I’ve apologized, and now I have to face the result of the decisions that I made.
And it’s never been more obvious than now, standing a few feet from him, how much I fucked up.
Because I miss my friend so much it hurts.
“Thank you for finally explaining,” he says, and it feels like the flimsiest life raft he’s offering our friendship.
But he’s still offering it.
“Kasen will be here later,” I tell him, not sure if this breaches some kind of privacy thing, but Hawke is his dad.
“Today?”
“Yeah, he’s booked in. With everything going on, there’s a chance he might not show, but—”
“He’ll show.”
“You sound confident?”
Hawke thinks it through. “You said he’s like me.
When I was hurting, all I wanted to do was play.
” He finally meets my eyes, and even bloodshot, those hazel eyes are exactly how I remember them.
Sitting side by side on the hood of my shitty old car, down by the lake, nothing but the stars keeping us company as we talked about the future.
“I stopped playing after you left,” I confess.
“I was the opposite.” His expression tightens, and he finally pushes away from the wall. “I never played harder in my life.”