Chapter 60
Chapter Sixty
RILEY
It’s game day.
And Nat hasn’t contacted me except for one, single line of text.
Nat: I’m sorry. I gave Max and the team my word. I have to play the game tonight.
I’m disappointed, but I’m also not surprised.
He’s Nathan Campbell.
Hockey is in his veins and nothing else compares.
Because I’ve known him for so long, I always knew his love affair with the game would eclipse any other relationship he entered, and I was fine with that.
I knew where I stood.
But now that I’ve actively challenged my status in his life, I’m humbled to see what I truly mean to him.
What did you expect by throwing that ultimatum, Riley?
Maybe all this is my fault.
Maybe I was foolish to go up against the one thing he loves most.
Nat’s text message signals one thing.
We’re going the route of his summer flings at the start of hockey season.
The song in my ears flows to another track from Nat’s playlist. As the singer croons softly about ‘wanting to be with his lover forever’, I find myself getting teary-eyed.
I miss Nat so much.
If I had any other choice, if there was any way I could watch him slowly destroy his health to play the game he loves, I’d do it.
But I can’t.
I wave to the bartender as the song switches to one of my favorites on the playlist. It’s a bubbly K-pop song.
When we were hanging out with Betty, I made a casual comment about enjoying the bridge of the song. Nat manually looped the bridge so I can listen to my favorite part over and over.
The bartender pushes another root beer my way.
Yes, root beer. Did you think I was getting drunk again after last time?
“What are you doing at the bar?” Mauve’s voice prompts me to pause the song.
“Hey, Mauve.” I smile. Ever since she helped me pull the switcheroo on Layla, I’ve felt a camaraderie with her.
“Shouldn’t you be at the arena for the Lucky Strikers’ send-off?”
“The arena? Oh… no. I don’t think I should be there.”
Mauve takes a good look at my face, wipes her hands on her apron and plops into the seat beside me. “Something on your mind?”
“Not really.” I swirl my straw around.
Mauve sets her dark hand over mine. “I heard about the podcast. If that’s what—”
“I’m not upset about that. I actually…” A reluctant smile tugs at my lips. “I think it’s funny the way the town got #bannedfromLuckyFalls trending.”
Mauve winks. “Well, you know we’ve got to stand up for one of our own.”
“Am I a Lucky Falls-ian now?”
“As long as you want to be. I’ve heard you’re doing a great job managing Stewart’s old garage.”
I flinch at the reminder that my shop is still called that.
“It’s actually ‘Lucky Falls Auto’.”
“Huh. That doesn’t roll off the tongue the same.”
I chuckle. “In any event, I appreciate that you didn’t doubt me.”
Mauve gives my hand a squeeze. “That’s what life’s about ain’t it? Giving people grace? Giving them the benefit of the doubt?”
“Right,” I say hesitantly. My thoughts go to Nat. “Mauve, what if extending grace hurts that person more than it helps?”
“I don’t know what you’re referring to right now, so without details…”
Mauve waits, but I duck my head and drink my root beer like a coward.
She smiles in understanding. “In my many years of marriage and life, I learned this important principle about relationships.”
I lean in, ready to soak up every word.
“If two people are determined to work things out, they will, but it can’t be one-sided. It can’t be one partner trying and trying. A relationship will die the moment one person takes their hands off the wheel. You need two pairs of hands all in to steer the ship.”
Mauve’s words unlock something in my brain. I close my eyes and I’m back in that hallway, watching Nat suffer from the pain in his leg. I see myself panicking and blurting out an ultimatum.
From this perspective, I realize that I might have been taking my hands off the wheel a bit.
Not because it’s my decision or even my fault.
I still don’t think Nat should take the pills and push himself to keep playing. He’s hurting himself every day that he steps onto the ice and I just can’t be a part of it.
But maybe we could have had a mature conversation about what he’s been through, instead of me lashing out and threatening to leave him in order to get him to do what I want.
“Two hands on the wheel, huh?” I muse.
“Two hands.”
“Mauve?”
“Yes?”
“I need to go.”
I’m halfway to the door when I realize with terror that I haven’t paid. I spin back around.
“My bill.”
“Go, go. I’ll start a tab for you,” Mauve says with a delightful laugh.
The sun is starting to set, and I know it’s a long shot that the team bus will still be there, but I drive to the stadium as fast as I can.
The parking lot is empty except for a few parked cars.
To my surprise, I notice Cordelia hustling out of the stadium with a purple jacket folded over her arm.
“Delia!” I sprint toward her. “Has the bus left?”
“Yeah, a while ago.”
“Oh no.” I rub my forehead and dial Nat’s number. “I need to talk to Nat before the game.”
“I don’t think that’s possible. Max has the guys ‘getting into the zone’ with these breathing exercises. They won’t be allowed to have their phones until they get there.”
As Delia predicted, the line goes to voicemail.
My chest feels like it’s going to explode from my new revelation, and I wonder if I could possibly flag down the bus on the highway.
“Riley, you look like you need to sit down. Come with me.” Delia steers me to a truck that probably belongs to Renthrow since I’ve never seen her ride anything but her Harley.
Gordie is strapped in a booster seat in the back. She’s reading an actual, physical book and she waves enthusiastically when she sees me.
“Hi, Miss Riley.” Gordie grins in such an adorable fashion that I can’t help but smile.
“Hi, Gordie. What are you reading?”
“A book about stars. Did you know we’re all made of exploded stars? Isn’t that cool?”
“That’s really cool.”
Cordelia pipes up. “We came back to the stadium because Gordie forgot her jacket while we were sending the team off. I’m actually glad I ran into you. Nat gave me something to pass on to you, but I wanted to take Gordie straight home. She’s not feeling well.”
“I have diarrhea,” Gordie lets me know matter-of-factly. And I’m reminded that she might be a smart cookie but she still is, for all intents and purposes, a seven-year-old girl.
“I hope you feel better soon, Gordie.”
“Thank you,” she says sweetly.
Delia reaches into her glove compartment and pops it open. “He said this was something very important to the both of you. He made me swear that I would deliver this straight to you and no one else.”
Cordelia hands me a brown package the size of a book.
“Delia,” Gordie chimes from the backseat, “my belly is doing that grumbly thing again.”
“Uh-oh. Let’s get you home, pumpkin.”
I wish Gordie a speedy recovery, slip out of the van and cross the lot to my truck. Rather than wait to get home to open the package, I tear into it right away and gasp in shock when I unveil the gift Nat left for me.
It’s my old poem book.
Why did he bring this back to me? Is he trying to tell me I shouldn’t be embarrassed?
I flip the pages and a loose sheet slips out. Nat must have tucked something into the pages of the journal.
His handwriting is on the slip of paper.
Curious, I read what he wrote and then I start laughing so hard that tears fill my eyes. Nat created his own version of bad poetry for me.
After reading all the poems, I return to my favorite one and slide my finger over the last stanza.
Neither of us are poets and that much is true
But the one thing that won’t change with time is…
Riley, I love you.