Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
When I exit the Ice Palace after taking a full tour, I’m still scratching my head at Heidi’s hostility toward me. I came here to scope it out, learn my way around, and get a feel for the place before I officially show up as the Knights newest defenseman.
During intense parts of the season, I would’ve done almost anything to get some downtime. But I wasn’t looking for three months off. However, it gave me time to think and reflect, polish up some skills, and learn to dodge probing questions about why I was hung out to dry.
The GM made an example of me among the players on the Pittsburg Generals, but he kept the details from the public. People speculated, but I didn’t do anything wrong, which only made it worse.
My reasoning for not coming clean with the whole story was long-term self-preservation. I want to play hockey until I’m no longer an asset to the team. As a free agent, I hope to get that chance with the Knights.
Unlike Derek, I have my doubts about Coach Badaszek playing me .
They weren’t my first pick. Not because they’re a lousy team. They’re exceptional and Badaszek has a reputation for being both tough and keeping his players out of trouble.
Why he picked me is baffling.
Why Heidi seems to hate me, equally so.
My problem with the Knights has everything to do with being back in Cobbiton. Maybe that’s Heidi’s too, but it’s not like I’m the mayor or the town’s personal representative. I left as soon as I could and never intended to come back. Perhaps that’s her story as well.
But it’s not as bad as I expected. Seeing Derek and his family is great. Even if his sister, who went from brat to beautiful—not that I’d ever tell her that because she’d punch me—seems extremely unhappy about my return.
I snap my fingers. Maybe it’s because she’s afraid I’m going to steal all her brother’s attention. He did mention that he’s her manny on Tuesday and Thursday nights. If that’s the case, I feel bad for Deborah, Derek’s wife, because she must also face Heidi’s wrath.
Yeesh. That’s some intense sibling rivalry, not that I know much about that since my brother was so much younger than me.
I’m about to get in my truck when I hear the telltale groaning sound of an engine that refuses to turn over. I lived in Pittsburg for the last few years with its urban life plusses and pitfalls. The air is fresher here, the stars brighter, and I don’t hear the traffic racket in Cobbiton that’s part suburb and part small town. Unlike in the Steel City, if someone is having car trouble, they can rely on a good Samaritan to help out. Pocketing my truck’s keys, that would be me.
I follow the sound to a white Toyota 4Runner—there’s an old Clarkson High School Red Hawks sticker on the rear window. When I round to the side, the driver wears a pink hat. She leans her head against the steering wheel as if defeated.
I rap lightly on the window, hoping not to startle Heidi and earn more of her ire.
Of course, she jumps in her seat, splays her finger across her chest, and rolls down the window. “What are you doing here?”
“Heard your car wouldn’t start.”
“These things are supposed to run forever,” she says, referring to the Toyota model.
“Be that as it may, I have to ask the obvious. Is it out of gas?”
She glances at the dashboard. “No, captain. I’m not too dumb to be alive.”
I chuckle at the Captain Obvious allusion—that was one of the jokes Derek and I had. “Could be the battery, fuel pump, or a glitch in the computer.”
Ignoring me, she tries again, but the car won’t start.
“Do you have jumper cables?”
Her eyes slide from side to side. “I don’t know.”
“Seems like something your dad would’ve stashed in the back. Mind if I look?”
She pops the rear hatch.
After removing a folded-up contraption, that in my best estimation is a stroller, I find a little kit that contains car care items.
Heidi sends a text and looks up when I return to the window.
I hold up the jumpers. “Bingo.” I signal that I’m going to pull my truck closer.
The thanks I get is little more than a scowly nod like my assistance is a major inconvenience.
Why the Frost Queen treatment ?
Granted, we weren’t ever tight—I spent time at the Rice residence because I was best friends with Derek. It was a bonus that he had video game equipment, food, and his dad built a rink in their backyard every winter. Given my obsession with hockey and general boyish interests—not to mention Derek’s sister was a brat—I never gave much thought to Heidi.
But if I’m not mistaken, she hates me.
After the last few months, I’ve gotten used to the haters, speculating about my marriage, suspension, and breakup. Pulling up the nose of my truck to Heidi’s 4Runner, I wonder if she knows about what happened between Alivia and me.
My ex was not part of the hockey world until we got together, so I can’t fathom that they’d have crossed paths. Then again, Mrs. Gormely, the town gossip, is known for being “all ears” and transmits what she considers news in the community.
Ten minutes later, Heidi’s car still won’t start.
“I can give you a ride home and you can call to have it towed in the morning,” I offer.
“Thanks, Dad,” she murmurs as if it’s my fault her vehicle has broken down.
She opens the passenger door to my truck and I move a heap of stuff out of the way. At present, my life resembles the contents of the seat—random papers, clothes, and food wrappers.
I’m not sure whether normal guys care about the state of their vehicle when a girl gets in—Derek probably doesn’t, but then again he was in the army for six years and keeps things tidy.
I was in survival school until I turned eighteen and that involved me trying to control what I could—namely my surroundings. While growing up, my bedroom, even though I didn’t have much, was as neat as a pin, and I always took really good care of my hockey gear. Mostly because it was hard to get it replaced and even then, it was often secondhand.
I’m keenly aware that the debris on the seat, the floorboard, and in the back looks like I’ve let my life unravel. In a way, it has.
“Been living out of your truck?” Heidi asks.
“Something like that,” I mutter.
More like driving. Just driving around so I don’t drive myself crazy thinking about all the ways things went wrong. Before I returned to Cobbiton, I’d drive to the gym near my apartment in Pittsburg then just drive out of the city and into the highlands, filled with numerous state parks and lakes. The terrain was a lot different than Nebraska’s plains, but the peace and quiet was what I needed.
“But now I’m back here. Home sweet home,” I say dryly.
“I bet your family is glad to have you return. Hometown hero and all that.”
Hardly. I squawk a laugh.
She looks at me sideways.
“The only person happy to see me is Derek,” I say, trying to mask the hitch in my voice. My brother and mother are long gone.
She snorts. “My dad was talking about you at dinner.”
“Glad I still have a fan in the Rice household.”
“Am I going to start seeing you all the time?” she asks.
“If you’re lucky,” I say, as the old, cheerful, jokester in me makes a rare appearance.
“How would that be good luck for me?”
“You don’t find me and my pearly white smile charming? I still have all of my original teeth.” Mostly. Hazard of the hockey job.
“I don’t see how that benefits me. I don’t want anything to do with hockey players. I consider it a blessing Derek didn’t make the NHL.”
I press my hand to my heart. “Ouch. That’s harsh, Heidi.” I keep my tone playful, unsure what might set her off.
Not responding, she stares ahead through the window.
Rain cuts the silence between us with a sudden, sharp downpour. The windshield wipers slice across the glass. It’s impossible not to feel the enormity of Heidi’s presence as the rain points toward our proximity in such a small space. Despite her hostility, I’m attuned to her scent, her movements, and her sighs.
When I stop at a traffic light, I wonder if I acknowledge the Trey-shaped elephant in the room, that’ll calm the tension, “I’m sorry that, um?—”
“Don’t pity me, Grady,” Heidi says sharply.
I nod, point taken.
The windshield wipers swish and my heart falls in time with it. Not pounding, but not at rest either. The beat is off-time. I’m off-kilter and can’t figure out why.
Beside me, Heidi remains still, hands in her lap, gaze focused out the windshield. A fresh rain and sweet jelly bean scent wafts my way. The soft sound of her breath makes this moment feel bigger than it is.
I’m giving her a ride home. Nothing more. I’m not thinking about how pretty her brown eyes are or that I want her to like me rather than loathe me.
It’s not a big deal.
Yet, inside the cab of the truck, it’s hard to ignore how very alone together we are. Together, because we’re both in the same small place. Yet, it also feels like we’re both alone with our thoughts, purposefully guarding them from the other . . . and her brother isn’t a buffer between us.
The radio is off, which might be contributing to the loaded silence. I’m about to turn the volume dial when I feel the urge to explain myself with regard to my attempt at an apology and offering words of understanding. “It’s not about pity. More like, sometimes life doesn’t turn out the way you expect, and that’s not the problem. It’s dwelling on the expectations that you had for your life that causes trouble.”
The words hang between us until she finally says, “How would you even know? Grady Federer, NHL pro, with a perfect life.”
A low laugh escapes. “You didn’t read the prologue or get to the falling action part, yet.”
She clicks her tongue. “Are you telling me not to judge a book by its cover? I have no interest in reading your life story.”
Giving my head a shake, I say, “Yeah. Me neither.”
She glances over at me as if detecting something unexpected, frozen beneath the smooth surface of the ice that is my life.
Unfortunately, we hit all of the lights. At the next one, Heidi yawns.
I say, “God bless you.”
“That’s what you say to someone when they sneeze.”
I’m about to explain my reasoning for offering a blessing when someone is tired or bored, resulting in a yawn, but it’s contagious, and I yawn too.
She peers at me and I snap my mouth shut, feeling strangely like we shared an unusually intimate moment. How can a yawn be intimate?
When we pull up to her house on Silver Queen Street, I say, “I went back to the Fish Bowl the other day, and the server said you were never out of potato skin pucks.”
“Oops.”
“ Oops you made a mistake or oops you purposefully told me my favorite thing on the menu wasn’t available. ”
She wears a wicked smile.
“That was a bratty thing to do,” I mutter.
“Jerks deserve bratty things,” she counters.
My eyes bulge. “You think I’m a jerk. How did you arrive at that conclusion? Jerks don’t try to get Brats’ cars started and then drive them home.”
“I’ll be sure to remember that next time you’re in the restaurant.”
I frown. “Are you threatening to spit in my food?”
Hand on the doorhandle, she shrugs.
Then I do something that might result in Derek giving me a black eye. I accelerate, driving around the block.
“What are you doing? Where are you going?”
I may regret this later. “I want to know why you despise me. Did I do something in high school and don’t remember or?—?”
She hisses a breath. “You know how there are some people you meet and you’re like, ‘Yeah, they’re going to crack someday. Totally go loco.’ You were not one of those guys, yet now you’re holding me hostage?”
“Glad to know you’d measured my sanity.” On the contrary, I did go loco recently. “I’m not holding you hostage.”
“Then bring me back to my house.”
“I will, but I’d like an explanation.”
“What was that you said about expectations?”
“That’s different.”
“Grady. Bring. Me. Home.”
“I will.” I’m going under twenty miles an hour, but I want to know why she doesn’t like me, so I’m going to prolong this ride until she tells me.
“Now.”
Or not. I won’t actually hold Heidi against her will. My intent isn’t to upset her. I turn back toward her street .
“Ordinarily, I don’t care much about other people’s opinions, but you’re my best friend’s sister. Chances are, when Derek and Debbie have kids, we’ll both be involved. It’s not like you can just hate me forever for no good reason.”
She throws her hands across her chest like a defiant teen. “Watch me.”
“Heidi Clementine Rice,” I say in a scandalized tone, surprising myself at remembering her full name.
She gasps. “You’re not the boss of me, Grady Allen Federer.”
My frown deepens. “You’re not being fair.”
“Who said life is fair?”
“No one,” we both say at the same time in almost a whisper.
She goes suddenly still. “How’d you know my middle name?”
I shrug. “Dunno. Derek’s is Wednesday. Did your parents go through a hippy phase or something?”
Pausing at a stop sign in front of Mr. and Mrs. Yeardley’s old place, one block over from Silver Queen, Heidi and I look at each other for a long moment. It’s not like we’re squaring up to prolong this fight nor is it like we’re browsing books on the shelf. There are a few chapters in Heidi’s story that she’s not sharing. Me too for that matter.
But I genuinely don’t want her to hate me.
“Remember when you had a lemonade stand and refused to serve us?” I ask.
She thinks for a long moment. “That’s because you didn’t want to pay. I was a young entrepreneur. Trying to make money to buy a new Bratz doll.”
“Figures. We just wanted free samples.”
Heidi chuckles. “And I’d rather dump the lemonade and iced tea over your heads than give it to you for free.”
“You dowsed Derek and Trey. You spared me. ”
She squints as if trying to remember. “That’s a shame.”
“Oh, come on. We had some fun back in the day.”
“Like the time you told me ghost stories or ate all the hotdogs when we were at Uncle Stan’s lake camp.”
“Blame your brother. He was the evil genius.”
“You were his accomplice.”
“Hardly. I was just trying to fit in,” I mumble the last part, not sure why I revealed that.
“Well, you do now, number eighty-one.” She bristles.
How did she know my player number? I still don’t understand what I did to make her despise me. Is she likening me to Trey?
“Hockey players aren’t all the same.” Lucan Ketsivalis comes to mind too.
Gaze meeting mine in the dim light, Heidi says, “Prove it.”
My pulse does a flip-flop.
“I’ve been proving myself my whole life. Are you sure you want me to accept that challenge?” The words are out of my mouth, but I already did.
“Not particularly.” She sounds tired.
Me too, though we haven’t been fighting the same battle.
This time, I yawn and she follows suit.
Strangely, I don’t want her to go just yet. I have the urge to show her that I’m not a jerk or a loser or whatever monster she’s made me out to be.
Though, I am a liar and a secret keeper.
My voice is barely above a whisper when I say, “I’ve always wondered why you didn’t tell your parents the time we snuck your father’s Dodge out of the barn and went on a joyride.”
“How’d you know that I knew?”
“Because I saw your bedroom door open when we were tiptoeing down the hall filled with the kind of thrill that only comes from thinking we were getting away with something. ”
“If you saw me, why didn’t you warn my brother?”
“I did, but he didn’t care.” I half-heartedly did. I wasn’t overly enthusiastic about Derek’s driving skills at the age of fourteen. Nor did I want to be the second person in my family to be pulled over and arrested. However, we made the drive to and from the All Ears Diner & Fuel Station out by the highway without incident. It was open twenty-four hours, and we had the bright idea to go get pie. Never thought we’d go through with it.
Heidi says, “I wish you’d all gotten grounded.”
I snort. “Unfortunately, that wasn’t a punishment in my household.” My mother didn’t care much about what I did and that was part of the problem.
“Was the pie worth the risk?”
“Every bite, especially when Derek covered Trey’s face with whipped cream after he suggested we dine and dash.”
“Serves him right.”
“Is this about him?” I ask, taking a risk.
Heidi shifts uncomfortably. “What? No. I hate him.”
“So by association, you also hate me,” I say, piecing things together.
Her silence is as good as an answer. It cuts at an old wound—growing up, my identity was tied to my mother’s. She was the town sop, so this hurts and feels unfair just as it did when I’d come to school smelling like spilled liquor, cigarettes, and dirty laundry. It wasn’t my fault, yet I bore the brunt.
“I’ll bring you home,” I say after a beat.
Unlike the silence that wedged itself between us earlier, now, quiet settles like we’re both deep in thought.
Before I come to a stop in the Rice’s driveway, I anticipate Heidi jumping out of the still-moving vehicle. I can practically hear her slam the door. Instead, she remains in the passenger seat. Maybe because the rain turned heavy again .
Clearing my throat, I say, “If I’m wrong and this doesn’t have anything to do with Trey, just so you know, back in the day, I never hooked up with any of your friends.” I was always respectful—mostly because I didn’t pay much attention to Derek’s bratty little sister.
“I never had a crush on you,” she counters.
“Good.”
“Why is that a good thing? Don’t you want the love and adoration of all the puck bunnies?” Her tone is cold.
And the brat is back.
I answer, “That’s not love, and no, that’s not what I want.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“You can think what you want. Again, if this isn’t about Trey, just so you know, I didn’t gossip or tell anyone that you always left your dirty clothes outside the laundry basket.”
She huffs. “Derek did too.”
On a chuckle, I say, “You two were a pair of slobs. I don’t know how your mother put up with you.”
“She’s a saint.” Heidi gazes toward the house with gratitude.
“She is.” The gravity in my voice makes her look sharply up at me. I add, “The number of times Mrs. Rice fed me, let me spend the night, and didn’t ask questions saved my life.”
Heidi glances quickly at me as if trying to conceal her surprise. Mrs. Rice also helped me keep track of my insulin levels when I’d get distracted, trying to be a normal kid. Heidi now pulls her gaze from her hands to the big bay window with blue light flashing between the slit in the drapes. Likely, Mr. Rice is watching hockey highlights.
Heidi takes a full inhalation and exhalation, thawing the ice between us a bit. It’s a relief like shaking off a chill.
“Would you like some chili and cornbread?” she asks.
“Sounds good, but no thanks. If there is any of your mom’s delicious carrot cake on the other hand, I could be tempted.” The cream cheese frosting has the perfect amount of tang.
“Dad polished it off yesterday.” She grips the door handle but still doesn’t get out.
I swish my mouth from side to side, hesitant to ask but do so anyway. “Was offering me food an apology?”
She lets out a long breath. “Sort of. Next time you come into the Fish Bowl, we’ll have loaded potato skins.”
“Looking forward to it.”
I’m not in any rush and will gladly sit here all night, chatting with Heidi, piecing together the past, and hoping that gives me a better sense of where she’s at in the present. But mostly, I feel peace which is the last thing I’ve ever experienced in this town.
She glances over and asks, “What? Why are you smiling?”
I shake my head slowly against the back of the seat. “I didn’t realize I was.”
She says, “You still have that wonky front tooth.”
I run my tongue over it. “It’s dead. I figure it’ll get knocked out, eventually.”
“Tough guy, eh?”
I scrub my hand down my face. Not quite. “You remembered my tooth?”
“I was there when Derek hit you with his hockey stick.”
“He complained about the retaliatory bruise on his hip for a month.”
“You two were the worst.”
“What about the third member of our trio?” I risk asking because if this isn’t about Trey and some absurd connection to me, I’ll take a hockey puck to my other front tooth.
“I’ll need to consult a dictionary for a word that’s worse than worst . ”
“Would I find Trey’s picture in there?” I ask, sensing I’m in warm territory if we were playing a game of hot and cold.
“You would,” she says shortly.
“I wish that surprised me.” Trey was spoiled and his sense of right and wrong was sometimes askew. Like he only ever thought about the moment and never about long-term consequences.
I suppose, keeping my eyes on the horizon was a result of me hoping that my future would be better. Meanwhile, Derek has always been firmly rooted in the present.
“If you ever want to swap bad ex stories, I’m your guy.” Alivia took some low blows.
“You’re my guy?” Heidi repeats, blinking slowly.
“Yeah,” I answer without question.
The rain continues to patter, but time slows as the moment stretches with Heidi’s gaze on me and mine on hers. It’s like we’re trying to let the past catch up to this moment.
Her lips part and she exhales a tiny breath.
Drawn to her mouth, my focus softens.
Someone must be playing a bass-heavy song in the neighborhood. Then I realize it’s the booming of my heart. Or hers. Both of ours?
As if drawn from a trance, giving her head a little shake, Heidi mutters, “Or not. Exes aren’t worth the waste of time.”
“Then maybe we can get pie sometime and continue to reminisce. It’s good to laugh at ourselves.” Heidi had a larger presence in my young life than I’d remembered and so far, most of those memories have made me smile.
“Maybe.” She opens the door a crack and then says, “Good luck on the team.”
“I won’t need it.”
She tilts her head as if to ask what I mean, but then closes the door .
I’ll wait to make sure she gets into the house, but instead of watching the front door open and close, she marches back to the truck.
I lower the window and my eyebrows lift in question.
“Thank you,” she says.
“For the ride?”
“Yeah and . . . just yeah.” She bites her lip as if chewing on whether to say more.
“You’re welcome.”
She leaves again, but this time doesn’t make it all the way down the driveway before doubling back.
Window still open, Heidi asks, “You really didn’t recognize me?”
“I apologize, but no, I did not. You’ve grown up.” Grown up with curves and graceful movements. With big brown eyes and full lips. Grown up in ways that I shouldn’t be thinking about because she’s still my best friend’s sister.
“And you didn’t know about Trey and me being married for a minute?”
“As your brother would say, sometimes I’m in my own little world.”
She nods as if satisfied with this answer and starts to leave again when she stops short a pace away.
This time, I speak first. “I don’t owe you an explanation, but for the record, Trey and I don’t talk. He was never a straight arrow, but he showed me his character one too many times ...” I let my thoughts dangle, not wanting to speak ill of him even though the next time we face off in a game, he’s going to pay for the damage to Derek’s wrist and Heidi’s heart.
“Thanks. The worst of it is how stupid I feel. I was always the ditzy one, the cheerleader, and all that. This just proved people’s assumptions about me were right. ”
I shake my head. “I think we care too much about what people think. Maybe just consider what your people think.”
The comment about offering to be her guy springs to mind.
“Thanks,” she says as if genuinely meaning it.
I watch her hurry to the door to avoid the rain. If I had an umbrella, I would’ve let her borrow it. My truck’s headlights shine on the Easter wreath on the door, illuminating Heidi’s path. But she doesn’t go inside.
Instead, she turns around and starts back toward me, moving slowly, apparently not caring that she’s already wet. As she nears, she moves faster and the intensity in her eyes, fixed on me, sparks something inside.
Hand on the door, I don’t hesitate and get out.
I don’t think. Don’t hesitate.
Heidi and I rush toward each other and go still when we’re less than a hand-width apart. We rapidly went from frozen ice to thaw to pure snow melt. I can’t explain the extremes and am afraid of the conclusion if I try.
Her eyes search mine. Mine dip to her lips. Hers part.
We both inhale and then I’m cupping her jaw. I nose nuzzle hers with a nudge, offering us both a chance to rethink this, to draw away. But we don’t. Not even in the rain.
We’re both drenched now, but that doesn’t deter us.
I bring my lips softly to hers. Her hands grip my forearms, firming them in place.
The kiss doesn’t move from our lips pressed together but lingers there for a long, long breath. Long enough for it to fill me, to feel like this is dangerous, exhilarating, and like I want to sing in the rain as it patters around us.
Heidi smells like jelly beans. Her lips are so soft and this kiss is the sweetest thing I’ve ever experienced. It’s like a sigh after a long day. A deep inhale after a workout. Shelter in a monsoon .
And so very unexpected.
We part and track each other for a moment as mutual grins grow, yet our eyes remain heavy and fixed on the other as if this sudden attraction is surprising yet inevitable.
“We shouldn’t do that again,” she says with a smile as water drips from her hair.
We shouldn’t, but I hope we will.