Chapter 25 Mickey
Mickey
The Bainbridge Wolves know how to throw a party.
And, no, I’m not talking about the ones we threw at the old hockey house. We did have some good times, though. Maybe a little too good considering the fact that the house literally fell apart.
But this party is different. It’s a celebration of our win at the Frozen Four.
We’re back on campus and the university is pulling out all the stops so our families and fans can show their support and have a good time.
My folks are here, along with various aunts, uncles, and cousins.
I’m sure my mom is feuding with a few family members, but right now she’s talking to the dean’s wife about some reality show they both love, so I’m not going to bug her.
I know she and my dad are proud of me. They were there in Vegas when we won it all, and for the first time in a long damn time, I felt like I was enough, but not too much.
I knew I’d done a good thing. I knew they could brag to their friends about it.
And as shitty as that sounds, it made me feel good.
It shouldn’t. I shouldn’t need their validation, or anyone’s really.
But I do. Maybe part of that is due to the fact that my game-winning goal might soften the blow when I tell them about my graduation woes.
That’s gonna suck. My dad will rant about how he’s not paying another dime to the university, even though most of my tuition has been covered by my athletic scholarship so far.
My mom will blame it all on my ADHD and try to get me on about a thousand meds.
And yeah, they help. Until they don’t. Or until they turn me into a zombie.
Yeah, that is one conversation I’m going to avoid as long as possible.
“You okay?”
I look up to see Blue walking toward me with two drinks in his hand. I’d steal one, but I know it’s for his girl, Liza, and there’s no way I’m gonna risk getting on her bad side since she’s one of our equipment managers and is in charge of our uniforms.
I don’t need her ordering me a jock that’s a size too small. Nope. No, thank you.
“Yeah, I’m cool,” I assure him when I realize he’s still waiting for an answer.
“You look deep in thought, dude.”
“I’ve got a lot on my mind,” I say because it’s become my standard response these past few days.
“Well, if my calculations are right—and they always are— we’re about to do some family photos pretty soon, so you better get your game face on.”
I nod like I know what he’s talking about, but the truth is, I have no clue. But that’s nothing new.
I scan the crowd looking for Viv because she’s guaranteed to get me out of this funk I’m in, but I don’t see her anywhere.
But I do see a very nervous-looking Dutton Wagner standing by the bar. The guy’s sweating bullets and patting his pockets nervously. The fuck is wong with him?
Suddenly, it clicks. I know exactly what his deal is. Music stops playing, and the room goes quiet as Dutton Wagner steps out onto the floor. There’s a goddamn spotlight on him as the dean announces that, as next year’s Captain, Dutton would like to say a few words.
“Thank you, Dean Mercer,” Dutton says, doing his best to smile at the crowd.
It’s not his thing, though, and he ends up scowling.
“I’m proud to have been voted next year’s Captain.
It’s an honor, and something I’m very grateful for.
Hockey has always meant everything to me.
Hockey and family. For those of you who know me, you know that’s true.
There’s no other sport I like, no other game I play.
I don’t mind reading, as long as it’s about hockey.
And if I’m watching TV, it’s hockey. You might say I’m obsessed, or maybe just focused.
A year ago, I would have told you that hockey was my whole world.
“But things change. I still love the game. It’s still an honor and a privilege to play. But I learned this year that there’s more to life than hockey. I learned that life is better when you share it with someone you love.”
All eyes in the room are on Wagner as he walks through the crowd and finds Bridgette. He takes her hand, kisses it, and gets down on one fucking knee.
“Bridgette Mikalski, I love you with everything I am. And I know I’m a surly bastard, but will you marry me?”
My sister is sobbing and nodding as she falls into his arms. They kiss, and the place erupts in applause.
Everyone seems to be moving toward them, eager to congratulate the happy couple.
But I’m moving in the other direction. It’s not that I’m not happy; I am.
Bridgette deserves the best, and that's what Dutton gives her. But I don’t need to wait in line for a hug.
I can congratulate them later. Hell, we live in the same house, and I guarantee we’ll all spend every holiday together, too.
There will be plenty of opportunities for me to wish them the best.
I wander over to the bar and it looks like half the team had the same idea I did. Blue hands me a beer so we can toast to the happy couple. “You decided to escape the mob, huh?” I say, pointing to the crown that just keeps growing.
“Yep,” Blue says, looping his arm through Liza’s. “I’m his best damn friend. I’m not waiting around for a bro hug and a slap on the back. I’ll collect later.”
“Same here,” I agree. Viv’s at the far end of the bar with JT and Maggie, so I wave at Blue and Liza before heading in her direction. She reaches up to kiss me and the world just feels right.
“What are you guys up to?” I ask, since they’re staring at their phones.
“JT and Maggie found a place in Portland,” Viv says, handing her phone over.
I scroll through the pics, nodding and saying all the right things.
Because, again, I’m not an asshole. And I genuinely am happy for JT and his girl.
He’s been my best friend since we started training camp together three years ago.
He’s the best guy I know. And Maggie is perfect for him.
And Calla is the cutest baby in the entire world.
They deserve all the good things, including a kick-ass house with a big back yard and a swingset.
The fact that they found a house is great.
And it’s great that my sister’s engaged.
But holy fuckballs, everything is changing, and I’m not sure I’m ready for it.
“You’ve got a beverage?” Ollie asks, carrying a tray he clearly stole from a server. Next to him, his wife, Fallon, just shrugs. They have only been married six months, but the woman already knows there’s no tempering Ollie’s brand of crazy. You can’t fight it, so you just go along for the ride.
“Yeah,” I say, holding up the beer Blue gave me. “Are we toasting these two crazy kids?” I ask, pointing at JT and Maggie.
“Nah, we already toasted them. You missed it. Now we’re celebrating Viv’s new job.”
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. They shouldn’t. I’ve known for weeks that she was applying for the yoga instructor position on the cruise ship. And I knew she was on the short list of candidates. Again, none of this is fucking new. So why does it feel like I’m getting blindsided?
I feel like I’m losing my shit a little here, but when I look down at Viv, I can’t help but smile. She’s so damn excited that she’s clapping. It’s fucking adorable.
“You got the job, huh?” I say, opening my arms to her. She practically leaps into them and squeezes me tight.
“Yep! The call just came through, and I had to answer. You are looking at the new Wellness and Movement Instructor at Destination Cruiselines. How freaking cool is that? Yoga on the high seas! Can you even imagine?”
Viv’s enthusiasm is contagious because I am imagining her teaching a class on the starboard deck or whatever, and it looks fun as hell.
“Have you hugged Bridgette and Dutton yet?” Viv asks.
“Nope,” I answer. “I will, but—.”
“Then come on, what are you waiting for?” she asks, practically dragging me across the room. We don’t get very far, because there’s till a fucking line, and also because my Aunt Darla, my mom’s oldest sister, stops us.
She hugs us both, pinches my cheek, and threatens to show Viv my baby pictures. It’s not actually a threat, though. I was an adorable baby. We tried to politely say our goodbyes and move on, but Aunt Darla is having none of it.
“You know what this means,” she says in a sing-song voice.
“I have a feeling I know who’s gonna be walking down the aisle next,” she says, giving me an exaggerated wink.
“Oh you two are just as cute as can be. If you don’t put a ring on her finger soon, Brannon, I’ll know you take after your take after your father.
Bunch of morons on that side of the family tree.
” Aunt Darla cackles at her own joke and I do the same, because when a crazy last laughs, you join in.
But Viv’s not laughing. She’s standing completely still, like she’s frozen to the floor. “We’re not together,” she says, correcting my aunt. “We never have been. We’re just friends. So there will be no wedding band on this finger, I promise,” she says.
Now it’s Aunt Darla’s turn to stay quiet. And I don’t think that’s ever happened in my whole life. “Well,” she says, finally breaking the awkward silence. “I’ll go congratulate the happy couple.”
As soon as my aunt is out of earshot, I turn to Viv. “What the hell?”
“Uh, yeah. What the hell was your aunt thinking?” she volleys back. “Why would she assume we’re getting engaged?”
“Because she ‘s a meddling old lady? Because she’s just yapping, making small talk?”
“Small talk is ‘how are your classes going?’. Small talk is about the weather. It’s not, ‘Hey, when are you gonna marry my nephew?”
“Well, thanks to your response, she now knows the answer to that question is never.”
“Hold up,” Viv says, taking a step out into the hallway. “Are you saying I’m the asshole here? What the hell, Mickey? You know our agreement as well as I do. We’re not serious about each other. We’re just friends.”
“Yeah, Okay,” I say, shaking my head. My brain is too full to deal with this shit right now, and I know I need to walk away before I say something I’ll regret.
Viv puts her hand on my arm to stop me. “What is happening? We are besties with bennies. That’s what we’ve been for weeks now. We are not in a relationship. Why are you suddenly acting like you have no idea what I’m talking about?”
On any other day, I could handle it. Hell, I’ve handled it for weeks now.
But all these changes are adding up and throwing me off.
“What do you think this is, Viv? We hang out, we spend every minute together, we say ‘I love you’, we fuck each other’s brains out on the regular.
I’m not the smartest guy in the room, but that’s a relationship.
And I know you can’t call it that. I know you’re allergic to commitment or whatever, but come the fuck on.
Would it have killed you to just play along?
To just let it go? Or is the idea of dating me so fucking terrible that you have to let everyone you meet know that you’d never do it? ”
Viv’s practically shaking. “It’s not that simple, and you know it. I never lied about that. I was always honest with you. I don’t do love.”
“Don’t you?” I ask, my dumbass heart forcing the question.
“No,” she says plainly. “I’m not cut out for it.”
Her words finally sink into my super thick skull.
This is really never happening between us.
There’s no magic waiting period. She’s never going to see me any differently than she sees her asshole ex of Jake Fucking Lanza.
We’re never going to have that moment where we realize we’ve been in love all along.
My brain knows the truth, but I still have to ask.
“So, what? This is it? We’re done? This is over? ”
Viv opens her beautiful mouth, but I open my trap faster, cutting her off. “I swear to god, if you say that we’re not over because we never even started, I will lose my ever-loving-shit.”
She stays quiet, but her wide hazel eyes tell a million different stories.
Any minute now, she’s going to start explaining how she never wanted to hurt me, that she was upfront from the beginning.
That may all be true, but I’m not sticking around to hear it.