Epilogue
Megan
Stick and Jane got to their seats just as the puck dropped at center ice.
They were using Gabe’s comp seats tonight, and they happened to be right next to Veeti’s, which Emily and I were occupying.
Logan’s tickets were being used by his parents, who had come to Bribury for the weekend, since he wouldn’t be going home to Minnesota next week for Thanksgiving.
The team was playing in a tournament over the holiday in Chicago.
I was going home to Lincoln on Sunday to spend Thanksgiving with my family, and then we were all flying to Chicago Friday morning to go to the tournament. I was going to take Mallory shopping there, and Micah and my dad would catch a Bears game.
Tomorrow, Tricia Fields was going to cook an early Thanksgiving dinner at Logan’s house for the guys. She’d asked if I wanted to include any special food from my family’s regular traditions for the meal, and I said I’d do my mother’s sweet potato casserole.
I’d spent an hour with Tricia and James in Costco, shopping for the ingredients before we dropped them at Logan’s house, picked up Emily, and came to the game.
We were at a stand still in the suite. Emily said if I was going to move out, she’d go with me. We thought we might get a better chance at switching if we did it as a pair.
Chloe had apologized again and said she didn’t want us to move out. She’d taken a lot of shit around campus for her post and finally taken it down. But the gesture felt hollow and too late.
Nothing was going to happen before the end of the semester, anyway. We’d just have to stay out of each other’s way until then.
I’d returned to Grief Group, and Connor would too—and be back at classes in person—after we came back from the Thanksgiving break. He’d cleared every hurdle he needed for the panel to approve his coming back. Earlier than he’d first thought, which was great.
Logan and I saw him all the time. He’d come over and hang at Logan’s, or we’d all meet somewhere to eat on Wednesday when Logan and I were done with group. Stick and Jane even joined us one night, and we introduced Connor to Schmitty’s burgers.
He’d already gone home to North Carolina for the break, leaving after classes today.
He was nervous about being back home for the first time since Chloe’s post had gone viral.
The group was ready for any required support with our text thread, or even an emergency Zoom if it was needed in the next week.
I was sure Marlo was still working with Connor one-on-one too.
“Which one is Logan?” Jane asked as the action started.
“He’s not on the ice yet. But there, number thirty-three.” I pointed to Logan on the bench below us.
Not too long after, the defensemen switched and Logan and Veeti took their positions in front of Gabe, who had been made the starting goaltender after the regular starter let in six goals in two periods the week before, during a loss at Brown.
Dex’s line also happened to be out on the ice, and Philly turned around from her seat in front of us and smiled at me. “Look at our idiots,” she said, pointing to the guys from the house all next to each other as the whistle blew, stopping play.
“He looks a lot bigger on the ice,” Jane said.
“It’s the skates. And the pads,” Stick said. He gave Jane the side-eye, and she laughed and bumped her shoulder into his.
“Sure it is,” she said, humor in her voice. Stick rolled his eyes at her and returned his attention to the game.
“Excuse me,” said a voice from behind me, accompanying a tap on my shoulder. “Are you familiar with some of the players?”
Uh, yeah. In fact, I’d just had amazing sex with one of them last night. And this morning. And any other moment Logan and I could find to be alone together. Which wasn’t as easy as you might think, given the team’s away schedule and both of our classes and… well, life.
But we found the time. And it was good.
Very good.
“Yes, some of them,” I said to the woman who’d asked me the question. She was not in college, but I hadn’t seen her in the comp seats before, so probably not a parent either. Maybe a townie.
“Which one is the player who lost his brother to cancer?” she asked.
I was glad Tricia and James sat far enough away so they hadn’t heard her. The question stung me, so I could only imagine how it might catch Tricia off guard.
Though she’d told me today that she’d joined a support group of parents that had lost children and felt it had been good for her. We’d hugged right in the middle of the Costco aisle, causing James to blush and become flustered when he’d doubled back to find us.
“Number thirty-three,” I said. “Logan Fields. His brother, James, was also on the team. He died last summer.”
There were lots of regrets around grief. Some left, some stayed. And then there were new ones. A big one for me was that I never got to meet Logan’s brother. But I encouraged Logan to talk about him to me, and he did, and in some ways I felt as if I had.
“Oh, how sad. I read about it in the news, but didn’t remember the name. We don’t get to many games, but my husband’s coworker wasn’t using his tickets, so he gave them to us.” I nodded and was about to turn back around when she asked, “And do you know him? Logan Fields?”
I nodded. “Yes. Logan Fields is my boyfriend.”
She gave me a soft smile and patted my shoulder. I turned back to the ice.
And watched my boyfriend play hockey.