Chapter 28 Viv
Viv
Viv: What time do you think you’ll be back?
Maggie: Did you miss us that much?
Viv: I’m sitting on your front porch, so what do you think?
Maggie: We’ll be there in twenty minutes. Love you.
Viv: Love you. And tell JT to hit all the green lights.
Maggie: I let him know.
“All right, my love. What was so important that you had to sit outside and wait for us? You do have a key, you know,” she says, dumping out her suitcase on the laundry room floor.
I’m helping her separate laundry because I’ve got nothing better to do, and also because I need her perspective.
If the price of that is separating lights and towels and darks and unmentionables, then so be it.
“Yeah, but that felt creepy. I would have used it if I had to pee, of course.”
“Of course,” Maggie says. “Now, what did you want to talk about?”
“I’m in love with Mickey,” I blurt, unable to keep the words in any longer.
Maggie’s quiet for a moment, her eyes searching mine, and I know just what she’s asking, so I tell her my truth.
“I’m in love with him, Mags. Yes, I love him like a friend.
And yes, he’s my boy bestie. But that’s not all.
I love him. And I’m in love with him. And he’s my person, and I don’t know what to do now because he probably hates me and —”
“He doesn’t hate you,” a disembodied voice speaks through the walls. It ‘s not weird, though. It’s just JT. He’s upstairs giving Calla her bath and the vent in this room leads directly to the vent in that room. Maggie’s house is adorable, but it’s a terrible place for secrets.
“Okay, hate is a strong word,” I concede. “But—”
“No buts,” bodyless JT says. “He loves you. He might be pissy. His feelings might be hurt, but I know that guy better than anyone. He loves you, and that kind of love doesn’t just go away because you have a fight.”
“It was a little more than a fight,” Mags interjects.
“Ouch,” I say, pretending to pull a knife out of my heart.
My best friend just shrugs. “The truth hurts, babe. And the truth is that you were in a relationship, no matter what you called it or didn’t call it.”
She’s right. I know she’s right. I know that my past—and my inability to deal with it—got me here. I just don’t know how to get back to where I was, if that’s even an option. I love how optimistic JT’s being, but I’m not quite so convinced. “So what do I do now?” I ask.
JT walks into the room carrying a squirmy, sleepy Calla. “Now,” he says, “we make a plan. First I’ll text Wagner. I can’t remember if Mickey was going with those guys up to Ollie’s cabin or out to the lake with Leo and the guys. Let me ask around and see.”
An hour later, Maggie’s living room is crawling with hockey players, but not a one of them is Mick Mikalski.
“Swear to god, I thought you guys had him,” Ollie says, pacing the room and gesturing to the freshmen who are lined up on the couch like they’re on trial. “You were even talking to him about fishing rods last week.”
“Yeah, we talked to him,” Dime says. “That doesn’t mean we’re in charge of him. We figured he was with you guys cause you’re the old folks.”
“We’re the what?” Dutton asks, his voice low.
The poor kid looks like he’s going to piss himself. “Not like old, old, but—”
“That’s enough,” Blue says, stopping the argument before a fight breaks out.
“You guys can bitch at each other later. Right now, we’ve got a problem to solve.
Where the hell is Mickey? And how the hell do you lose a grown ass redhead who stands six feet, two inches tall and weighs over two hundred pounds? ”
The guys start arguing again, because of course, everyone has an opinion. But this time, it’s JT who cuts through the noise when he holds up his phone in triumph. “Found him! He’ll be over in ten minutes.”
Ten minutes? Holy fuckballs. I’ve got ten minutes to figure out how to get my shit together? Ten minutes to come up with all the right words? Ten minutes to figure out how to apologize? Ten minutes to make a plan to convince him to give me a chance?
Holy fuckballs.
The minutes fly by, and when he opens the door, I’m not at all prepared.
God, he looks good. That’s not surprising, but still. It throws me off my game a little. Not that I was ever on my game.
Before I can rush into his arms and beg forgiveness, the guys all start talking. It’s a damn good thing Calla’s a sound sleeper, because no one’s using their inside voice.
“Where the hell have you been? We’ve all been worried sick,” Ollie says, pacing the room and gesturing wildly.
“You didn’t even know he was missing until an hour ago,” Wagner argues.
“I wasn’t missing,” Mickey says, flopping down on the sofa. “I was in Chicago.
For a second, there’s total silence.
“Chicago?” Dime asks. “Like, the city?”
“No, dumbass,” Flo says, smacking his buddy upside the head. “He’s been watching the musical for five days straight. Yes, the freaking city.”
The guys bicker for a few more minutes, but I’m not really tuned in. I’m looking at Mickey.
But he’s not looking at me. It’s like I don’t even exist. I want to melt into the carpet or discover a secret trap door that will get me out of here, but there’s no escape that would go unnoticed, and I don’t want to cause a scene. I’ve done that already.
“Dude,” JT says, “what were you doing in Chicago?”
Mickey’s smile lights up the whole room. “They had a showcase for the European League, and, uh, it’s a total mindfuck, but I’ve got some really good news. I got selected by Poland.”
No one says a word or makes a sound.
And then, after about thirty seconds, everybody talks at once. I only hear snippets, but I pick up enough.
I hear Dime’s voice first. “Poland? Like the country, or like—”
“No, like the fucking spring water. Yes, like the country,” Flo says, giving Dime’s head another swat.
“Is Roscoe a lawyer yet?” Ollie asks.
“I’m already on it. Don’t worry, Mick,” Dutton says, “we’ll get you out of this scam.”
By now, Mickey’s up off the couch and heading for the kitchen. At Dutton Wagner’s words, he turns his head. “It’s not a scam. It’s legit. It’s an international league, and—”
“Did they give you a name?” Wagner asks. “That might help us track these assholes down.”
“There are no assholes, except maybe for you,” Mickey says, pinching the bridge of his nose as he leaves the room and steps into the kitchen.
While he’s gone, the guys continue to argue while Blue’s searching something up on his laptop. “Holy fuckballs,” he says on a laugh. “It’s legit, and we’re the assholes. Look, there’s even footage of the showcase. And there’s our boy, lucky number thirteen.”
Then, like it’s been choreographed, they all get out their phones and search away. While they’re comparing notes and screenshots, I decide to take action and head into the kitchen. I’m not the least bit prepared, but here goes nothing.
I step across the threshold to find Mickey digging through the fridge. He fishes out a carton of eggs, a block of cheese, and some veggies. While he sorts through his bounty, I see my opening, and I take it.
“So,” I start, leaning against the counter. “Poland, huh?”
He looks at me, but doesn’t say anything for a minute. It’s strange to be in a room with him, but not be touching. It’s strange that we’re barely talking when we used to have so much to talk about.
Finally, he speaks. “Yeah. Poland.”
“Wow,” I say, shocked by everything that’s happened in the last fifteen minutes, maybe even in the past week.
“Yep,” he says, curtly, grabbing a cutting board for the veggies. I wonder if he’s going to stay quiet, but when he opens his mouth, I have my answer.
“I mean, what else was I gonna do, Viv? I don’t even want the degree I’m supposed to be earning, and I’m a year behind on credits as it is. So, school is pretty much out, “ he explains.
I want to ask him what the hell he’s talking about, but I don’t get a chance.
“My other option is hockey,” he tells me, chopping the onion with more force than necessary, “and I’m good, but I’m not Dutton Wagner good.
Doesn’t mean I don’t want to play my ass off as long as I can.
Turns out, the EU league is really competitive.
And they want me. And I’m not gonna lie.
It feels really good to be wanted. So…yeah. ”
That hits hard. “Wanting you wasn’t the problem, Mickey. I was the problem. My past was the problem. I was so scared of losing you, and I thought if I didn’t put a label on it, then we could just stay in that perfect little bubble.”
“Bubbles burst,” he says bluntly. “But I was never going to leave you. You’re my best friend.
You’re the most important person in my life.
You’re always going to be important to me.
But losing you made me realize I had to do something for myself.
Think about it, Viv, I’ve always been the sidekick, you know.
I’m the comic relief. I’m the buddy. Everything my guys went through?
I was there for them. And I wouldn’t change it for a minute.
But I never had any real direction for myself.
The only thing I ever wanted for myself was you.
And when it became clear that wasn’t real, I kinda hit rock bottom. ”
“Mickey—” I start.
“No, it was good for me. It made me realize I needed a goal. I needed to do something that would make me feel like I had a purpose, you know? When I found out about the tryouts, I felt excited for the first time in way too long. And for the past week, I’ve felt like myself.
I’ve felt confident. I know moving to Poland sounds crazy to most people, but I’m not most people.
I’m actually looking forward to the future—to my future.
Everybody has a plan, a path, you know? I had nothing. But now I do.”
I’m about five seconds from bursting into tears, so I paste on my competition smile. “Then I’m really, really happy for you.”
I don’t bother sying goodbye to anyone. The guys are busy doing a deep dive on the Euro League, so I just wave to Maggie and head back to my dorm, where I promptly crawl into my tiny bed, burst into tears, and wait for sleep to claim me.
Holy fuckballs, this sucks.