Chapter Eighteen
Nick pulled on the San Francisco Barons jersey, his heart bouncing around his chest like a warm puck across the ice. He wiped his sweaty palms on the bottom of the jersey and picked up his gloves.
He probably should be thankful for the nerves, the way his stomach was twisted into a knot so tangled, he wasn’t sure where it began or ended. It was the first thing he’d felt since he got the call that he’d been traded two days ago.
Two days since his dad’s funeral, and his final time with Alex and somehow, it felt like a lifetime. He hadn’t even had a chance to return home to New England to get his stuff before he was required to check in with the Barons. Not uncommon in these situations.
His meeting with management and the coaching staff had gone fine, and the guys had been friendly and eager and all of that. He’d tried to at least act excited, but he wasn’t sure he’d pulled it off.
They’d wanted him to attend the full team practice today, so they could assess his fitness and see how his knee was doing in action.
He’d completed the off-ice conditioning with the team with no issues, going through the motions like a robot, trying not to think of Alex and compare their drills to the ones she’d created for him.
Then the coaching staff had requested he attend the optional skate this afternoon, so here he was.
But, the smell of the dressing room was all wrong. The walk to the ice was all wrong. The size and shape of the arena was all wrong.
Then again, maybe he was all wrong.
Just going through the motions was not the best head space to be in, but he couldn’t muster the energy.
It was over. There was no way—without a miracle—he was going to win the championship.
Not while playing on such a young, inexperienced team.
While nothing was impossible, and there was always a small chance the team could rebound next season, it was unlikely.
He’d never get to prove to everyone he wasn’t a massive fuck up. It was already too late to show his dad he’d deserved all that time and energy his dad had put in when he was a kid. And now, he couldn’t even win a championship in his dad’s memory. It had all been such a fucking waste.
“You ready?” Kyle Cameron, the kid sitting next to him, gave him a thump on the shoulder.
“Yup.” Nick pushed to his feet. The weight of his equipment felt right, even if nothing else did.
He and the others here for the skate headed out of the room. The only comforting thing about all of this was stepping on the ice. On the ice, everything else melted into the background, and he felt like himself again.
Just like he’d felt when he was with Alex.
No, no, he was not thinking about that, not right now.
She’d made her choice.
It wasn’t him.
That she’d flown to Nebraska for his dad’s funeral, and let him make love to her—because that’s what it had been, making love.
Not scratching an itch or a pity fuck, even though it had been on his bedroom floor, even though they’d been fully clothed, even though a small, secret part of him had hoped it might mean more—it didn’t matter.
He wasn’t good enough for her. He’d never be good enough for her.
That hadn’t changed, had actually become clearer with his trade. He understood why she didn’t want anything to do with him. He was a loser. Plain and simple.
The coach blew the whistle. The guys lined up to go over the drills. He forced himself to focus.
Time flew by, his thoughts on what was happening on the ice and only that. Before he knew it, he was out of the shower and grabbing his stuff to head home.
Well, not home, to the hotel. The team liaison had booked a hotel for the first little while, at least until he could secure more permanent accommodations.
The first game of a four-game home stand was tomorrow night, so he had nothing to do until the team met again tomorrow morning.
Looked to be a fun night of take out and Netflix.
He pushed open the door to outside. It was raining.
It reminded him of Seattle… and Em and Alex.
Was it raining there, too? Or had it gotten cold enough to snow?
Maybe it was sunny, like the day he’d kissed Alex on the pier.
The need to pull out his phone and check the weather app burned through him.
He reached into his pocket for his phone.
No. He pushed the thought away and pulled his hand out of his pocket.
It didn’t matter. He needed to stop thinking about them, because it hurt so fucking much.
That was the problem with feelings and shit.
At least when he’d been numb, the gaping black hole where his heart should be hadn’t ached like a motherfucker.
Ducking his head, he made a run for his rental car. Someone was leaning against the passenger door. His heart gave a hopeful little thump-thump, even though his brain knew it was a guy and not Alex.
He got closer. The guy shifted his umbrella.
Ty.
“What are you doing here?” Nick didn’t mean for the words to come out hostile, but they did.
“It’s great to see you, too.” Ty pushed himself away the car.
Nick stopped in front of his friend, shoving his hands into his coat pockets. It wasn’t raining hard enough to get soaked, just enough to be annoying. “Sorry,” he said. “It is great to see you. I just wasn’t expecting it.”
“That’s why it’s called a surprise.” Ty flicked his umbrella closed. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to the funeral.”
Nick nodded, his throat growing a lump the size of the bridge in the harbor.
Stupid fucking emotions. The disappointment and shame that washed through him at the idea he couldn’t even win in his dad’s memory made his limbs feel like he’d just done a thousand burpees, while wearing hundred-pound weights.
If he’d only been a better player, a better leader, then maybe the Pirates wouldn’t have tossed him aside.
Ty clapped him on the shoulder. “Let’s get out of this rain and go and get some food.”
“Sounds good.” Nick’s voice sounded weird, all hoarse and gravelly. Ty didn’t react, which made everything a million times easier. He pulled out his keys and walked around to the driver’s side. Popping the locks, he climbed in and they headed off in search of food.
It took a bit for them to decide on something, but soon they were seated in a seafood place down by the water. The waitress took their order and hurried off.
Ty sat back in the booth, extending his arm along the top of the seat. “How are you?” Although the question was innocent enough, there was enough subtext to fill San Francisco Bay.
Nick fiddled with his napkin. “I’m fine.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
“I’m not lying.” He was disappointed in his defensive tone.
Ty sighed. “Talk to me, Nick.”
Nick had never been the touchy-feely, let’s-talk-about-our-feelings type.
His parents had never encouraged it, so it wasn’t something he was comfortable with.
But, if anyone would understand, it’d be Ty.
He’d been traded a couple of times in his career.
And, he was probably Nick’s closest friend.
He rubbed the back of his neck and then went back to fooling with the napkin. “I think I’m still in a bit of shock.”
Ty nodded, but didn’t say anything. Just let the silence hover between them, like the fog over the water.
Nick ripped a piece off the paper napkin. And then another one and another one, making a tidy little pile next to his water glass. “I feel sort of blindsided, you know? Like, it wasn’t even on the radar, as far as I could tell. I mean, I know I didn’t live up to expectations, or anything, but—”
“Hold up.” Ty held up his hand. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
Nick cocked his head. “My being traded. I thought that was obvious.”
“No, not that.” Ty pulled his arm off the back of the booth and leaned forward. “This not living up to expectations bullshit.”
Ty’s vehemence was so unexpected, Nick flinched, almost like Ty had leaned across the table and punched him. So fucking embarrassing. His cheeks burned. He hoped like hell it was dim enough in the restaurant for Ty not to see him fucking blushing.
“It’s not like it’s a secret.” He forced his shoulders to relax, because they felt like they were hanging around his ears. “I was supposed to win the Pirates a championship. My entire life, my entire career, was built around being a champion. And I fucked it all up royally.”
Shit, he’d never actually told anyone that stuff before. But now that it was out, he wasn’t sure he wanted to take it back. It felt kind of good to let someone else in on the burden he’d been carrying most of his life.
Ty was staring at him like he’d just kicked a puppy and pushed an old lady into traffic. “You do realize that hockey’s a team sport, right?”
“Yeah, but—”
Ty held up his hand again. “There are no buts. It was not solely your responsibility to win the championship. It was up to management, the coaching staff, and all the players on the team, working together. And then there’s also the shit ton of luck that’s required.
You’re a fucking amazing player that just ran into some bad luck.
That’s not your fault, and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with not winning it all.
Do you know how many players don’t win?”
Nick opened his mouth to say something, but his brain blanked, and the ability to form words evaporated. He snapped his jaw shut. Ty’s words were doing laps in his head, looping over and over again. Sinking in. Sticking.
He knew this. It was common sense. But deep inside, he’d never actually believed it. He’d always felt like he should have been the one to elevate his teammates, push them over that hill, carry them to victory.
Now that he thought about it, really thought about it, the idea was sort of… well, fucking dumb. He’d given absolutely everything to the game and to the Pirates. Literal blood, sweat and tears over the years.