Chapter 48
CALICO JACK
Ledger
There’s a clean shot to the net. I take aim, slam the puck, and send it flying past the goalie.
Sweet!
It still feels good to score, even in practice. Nothing’s hurt much for the first few days of training camp. Empirically, that’s good, even if something’s been nagging at me all week.
Namely, this empty feeling in my chest.
“Looking sharp,” Chase says once we’re off the ice and in the tunnel. “You looked like you could play forever.”
I wince. But it’s not from the knee. “You never know,” I say evasively as we head to the locker room.
“I bet you are. Nothing can keep you down,” he says, and that’s Chase for you. Optimistic. Full of sunshine. No wonder he’s the team captain. He’s like Dev, always seeing the positive.
“Let’s hope so,” I say, and eventually I’ll tell the team that I won’t play forever. I just need to tell Garrett first.
I hate letting him down.
But I’m not sure that’s what’s dogging me either.
After we shed our gear, we hit the weight room in the arena.
It’s so familiar, all of this. The routine, the weights, the machines, and the random conversations about who’s looking good in football this season, or what new video game the guys are playing, or some rando debate about big questions in the universe—like Marvel versus DC.
The weight room is like a dog park for men.
It’s fun enough.
I really should try to enjoy it since I’m sure I’ll miss it when I’m no longer here. At least I think I will.
But I’m missing something else more. Someone else.
* * *
After practice the next day, I spot my father waiting in the tunnel.
Shit.
He’s not entirely unexpected. As a national broadcaster, he’s got all access. But I don’t think he’s here to do a game play-by-play. Since, well, there’s no game.
He flashes me his big, TV smile. The friendly one that wins over the whole world. He’s wearing a suit, no tie. He looks like me, except older and happier. He’s the social one. The outgoing one. “How’s it going? Can you believe they let me in here?”
The senior McBride can get in anywhere. “I can,” I say, wishing I knew why I felt so apprehensive about seeing him.
“Practice looked good. You’re playing strong,” he says.
“Thanks,” I say, hoping the conversation ends there.
He claps me on the shoulder. “Listen, have you thought any more about going into the booth with me?”
And it doesn’t end. I haven’t even told him I’m going to retire and he’s planning my next career, wanting what’s best for me.
“When it’s right,” he adds. “I’m sure you won’t hang up your skates for a while. But when you do, we’d be a great team.”
I wish I could say I was surprised by the suggestion, but he’s been dropping anvil-sized hints for some time.
“I haven’t really thought about n—” I stop myself from saying next year. “About then.”
As if my retirement is some nebulous time in the distant future.
He seems to take this fable for truth. “You should. It’s good to prepare.” He sweeps out an arm, indicating way down the road. If he only knew. “We never got to play together, but if we could call games together…can you imagine?”
I’m not sure I can. But he takes me out to dinner and chats about it all through the meal. When I go home, all I want is to tell Aubrey how weird this makes me feel even though I don’t know why. She’d know what to do. She’d know what to say.
The next morning, I wake up sweating, heart pounding. I try to blink off the remains of the dream. If you can call it that.
This time I couldn’t make a sound. I was stuck in some too-silent land, unable to make a noise.
Back on McDoodle Island Aubrey said when it happened to her she’d try to visualize something pleasant.
I think of her. And I hope those thoughts will keep the nightmares at bay.
* * *
The next night after a day doing drills on the ice and lifting weights in the gym, I head over to Sticks and Stones, where Garrett’s waiting for me at the bar.
He’s got a beer in front of him and is chatting with Gage as I join them—dad stuff, from the sound of it.
Gage is telling my agent that his daughter is playing softball and he’s trying his best not to be one of those coaches.
“The kind who intervenes and stresses them out?” Garrett asks the man behind the bar.
I sit on a stool and nod a hello.
“Exactly. I’m the cool dad,” Gage says to Garrett, and I scoff.
Gage arches a brow my way. “You doubt me?”
“No. I just think every dad thinks he’s the cool dad, but really, aren’t dad and cool antithetical?”
Gage pokes his sternum. “No. I’m the cool dad. I’m the hot dad. I’m the best dad.”
I turn to Garrett, laughing. “We really need to work on his confidence.” Then back to Gage, I say, “All right, where’s bartender dad? Can you find him and tell him to get me a pale ale?”
“Maybe if you’re nice to me,” Gage says, then parks his elbows defiantly on the counter.
I roll my eyes. “Fine, fine. You’re a cool dad.”
“I know,” he says, then pours me a beer and heads to tend to some customers down at the other end of the bar.
Garrett meets my gaze, his agent face on. “Tell me stuff. How’s the knee doing?”
“It’s fine,” I say, but is it? Sure, technically the knee feels good. This week. But will it feel good in a year? That’s the big what-if. Ah, fuck it. Telling Aubrey and Dev was such a relief. Keeping it from my dad the other night was stressful. “I’m going to retire after this year.”
Blinking, he sits up straighter. “Oh. Yeah?”
“Yeah. Sorry, man,” I say, feeling like shit. I hate disappointing him.
Garrett leans closer, concern in his eyes. “Why are you sorry?”
“Because I won’t earn money for you.”
Garrett shakes his head. “This is about your career. I’ve only ever wanted to guide you through it.”
“I appreciate that,” I say, then sigh heavily. I wish I were in a better mood. I wish I wanted to tell my father. I wish I were a better client. I wish telling Garrett eased the ache inside me.
I wish for…a lot of things.
But I’ve been in a bad mood since I left Vancouver. Imagine that.
“You’re in a funk,” Garrett says, reading me perfectly. My poker face sucks today.
Maybe I should say something about…anything. “Just a lot on my mind,” I begin, trying that on for size.
“Anything I can help with?”
My life doesn’t spark without your sister. But can I say that? Well, considering I just told him I’m going to retire…Considering I feel like a schmuck for keeping shit from him…Considering there’s a way to say it without violating Aubrey’s confidence…yes, I can.
I straighten my shoulders, meet his eyes. “I…care a lot about your sister,” I say honestly.
Garrett’s still for a second. Brow scrunching. Eyes intense. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I say. It’s not just a relief. It’s a necessity to have spoken the truth.
Garrett nods a few times, as if he’s taking in this new data point. “Are you going to do anything about it?”
I wish I could do everything. “Not right now,” I admit, and you couldn’t miss the moroseness in my tone.
Garrett turns his beer glass in small circles. “Makes sense,” he says, understanding the situation completely.
The timing is awful.
“It does,” I say, and there’s not much more to say than that. But at least I’m not sitting with a lie of omission between us. That has to count for something.
But I don’t know what.
* * *
When I get home that night, I check the moisture levels of the plants, watering some, chatting with others, then I grab a feather toy I picked up at a pet store and wander through the living room, dangling it in front of the cat. “Hey there, Calico Jack,” I say, calling him by his new name.
The black one-eyed critter bats the feather, and all I want is to tell Aubrey she was right.
But I don’t.
I do sleep better that night. No nightmares. I’m not saying one night has cured me. But maybe voicing my desire to retire to Garrett has lessened some of the anxiety. Maybe Aubrey’s right about that too. I was working through my decision to retire. Some of working through it is telling people.
I still wish I could wake up next to Aubrey though. Wish I could tell her I’m making progress.
* * *
The next day is light. Just a morning skate then the team has the rest of the day off.
When we’re done with the skate, I head down the hallway toward the players’ exit, along with Chase and Ryker.
“Free afternoon. We can take Trina to that bookstore she wants to go to in Sausalito,” Ryker says to Chase as we near the door to the parking lot.
Damn, that sounds nice.
“Pretty sure you want to go to it too,” Chase says to his friend.
“Yes, but so does she. So let’s do it.”
“If we can bring Nacho,” Chase says, and now I’m picturing taking Aubrey and a dog we don’t even have out shopping. Great. Just great. I’m imagining future dogs with her now.
Ryker rolls his eyes at Chase. “Obviously. Dude loves bookstores.”
Chase turns to me, and for a second, I think he’s going to invite me along. I fucking hope he doesn’t. Not that I hate bookstores—I do not—but the last thing I want is to be a third wheel for their trio. Fourth wheel actually.
I make a preemptive move with, “I’ve got to…get some plant food.”
Chase shoots me a look like I’ve said the equivalent of I need to rearrange my sock drawer. Which I suppose I have.
His brow knits. “Have fun…shopping for plant food?”
It comes out as a question because who the fuck says that? But as we reach the lot and Ryker breaks for his car, Chase motions that he’ll catch up with him, then pulls me aside.
“Hey,” he begins in the universal tone of I’m about to give you some unsolicited advice.
I brace myself for what’s coming. Not sure I want advice. I probably can’t follow it.
“You seemed happier in Vancouver,” he continues, slinging my words back at me. A couple years ago, when he went through a rough patch with Trina, I said as much to him.
This situation with Aubrey isn’t the same. Back then, I told Chase to get Trina back no matter what.
That’s not a thing I can do with Aubrey. She set a boundary. I respect it. Still, I appreciate Chase’s gesture, so I give him a nod and say, “I was.”
“Maybe do something about that,” he adds.
I sigh heavily. “Not sure I can.”
He lifts a brow. “You sure about that?”
On that mic drop, he walks to his car. As I head to mine, I replay those words. Turn them over. Then inside out. Am I sure?
Come to think of it…I’m not.
Not at all.
I hop in my car and call Dev. “What are you doing?”
“Working out,” he says in between heavy breaths. Sounds like he’s on the elliptical at his gym.
“I’m coming by,” I say.
“Okay.”
Fifteen minutes later, I’m walking into the gym with a renewed sense of purpose. I march over to the cardio machine that he’s attacking with the ferocity of a man who’s as lonely as I am. I stop at it as he rips out his earbuds but keeps on running. “What’s up?”
“I can’t stop thinking we messed up.”
His eyes spark. “How? Tell me how? Because then we can fix it. I’ve been dying to fix it, but I have no idea how.”
“I think I do,” I say, and for the first time in a week, I feel a spark.