1. Zack #2
Bax practically leaps out of his seat, vibrating with excitement. “Thanks Ever—”
“Don’t finish that word. You call me Marsh, got it?
” Funny for Marsh to be picky about his name when he’s been teasing Bax about his all morning.
Everett Marsh refuses to acknowledge his first name.
Maybe he thinks it ups his cool factor to only have one name, sort of like some musicians? Who knows?
Bax’s eyes go wide. “Yup. Marsh. Understood. So about tonight, are we taking your car or mine? And are we staying in the city? What should I wear?” Yup, he’s definitely going to regret this decision.
Marsh claps both hands over his face as he stands to leave, letting out a deep groan. “Let’s just get this punishment over with, and we’ll talk about my future punishment later.”
“I think you mean community service,” I say, tossing cash down on the table, leaving an extra tip. They deal with the team a lot and put up with all our crap.
“Why am I stuck doing community service twice in one day?” Marsh mumbles under his breath as Bax continues to rattle off questions at him.
* * *
Stones crunch beneath my feet as I walk across the parking area of the state park visitor center.
I spot the main building in the distance and make my way down the narrow path.
Sunlight filters through the tall pines, sending shadows dancing across the trail.
The fallen pine needles soften the ground below, giving me a little bounce in my step as the scent wraps around me like a warm hug.
Places like this make me grateful to be back in Maine.
I grew up here, but left when I was eighteen to attend college in Massachusetts.
Then I left straight from college to Vancouver after being signed.
The team is waiting just outside the entrance to the building, and they start filing inside when they spot me coming. Most of the guys are dreading this. I can’t say I’m excited to spend a humid day working outside either, but there are worse things we could be doing.
What appears to be a small log cabin from the outside opens up to an expansive room.
Our coach is standing at the information desk, talking to a man dressed in a park ranger uniform.
Jake Beryl used to play for the Maine Meteors, but he was forced into early retirement after an injury.
He started as an assistant coach two years ago but was promoted to head coach last season.
Official practices haven’t started yet this season, so I haven’t had the chance to get to know him.
But, from the brief interactions I’ve had with him on the ice over the years, he seems like a good guy.
He’s friends with someone on staff here and helped Josie set this up.
“Hey, Zack, check out these rocks.” Bax calls me over to an area that looks like a museum display. The wall shelves are lined with all sorts of rocks and minerals. He’s fiddling with things he’s most certainly not supposed to be touching.
“Put down the quartz, rookie.” He freezes, looking like a kid caught with his hand in the candy jar.
“Not you too! It’s West, or Bax. Y’know, like the compass direction?
Like the western mountains we’re in?” He points out the window.
“Should I spell it for you?” He carefully places the quartz back on the shelf as I fight to contain my laughter.
“And how the hell do you know what this is?” He points to the display.
“Long story.” One I don’t ever intend to share because it’s too painful to relive.
“Oh, look! That woman’s got some cool rocks.” He glances at someone behind me.
Peering over my shoulder, I see someone with an armful of colorful geodes. I turn to get a better look, and my eyes fall to the woman who’s moving closer by the second.
It can’t be.
Gorgeous brown hair falls in waves over her shoulders.
Her green ranger uniform accentuates her soft curves.
A faint line of freckles dots her nose, and on the inside of her wrist is the cute little black cat tattoo.
It’s a design I could trace with my eyes closed, like I’ve done a thousand times before.
The memory of her smooth skin beneath my fingertips has my pulse racing.
It was a connection point I always sought out and a habit I couldn’t kick.
Looking up from her pile of rocks, her blue eyes go wide with shock as they lock onto mine. They’re even more beautiful than I remembered—but instead of the usual sparkle, they’re filled with an unmistakable sadness. Maybe sadness from over thirteen years of broken promises?
I should be angry with her, but the hammering in my chest says otherwise. The air is sucked out of my lungs as my mind catches up with my heart. My hand instinctively reaches toward her, needing to feel her again, wanting to confirm she’s real.
She stumbles and lets out a gasp as the geodes topple out of her arms. Her eyes never leave mine, even as the floor is blanketed in a colorful array of crystal fragments.
“Evvy,” her name leaves my lips on a whisper. A name that somehow feels both foreign and familiar on my tongue.
My Evvy.