4. You Snuck Her Out The Window? #3
His words are like ripping off a band-aid. Quick, sudden, pulling on the threads of hair and causing just enough pain to make you wince a little.
I look at him, and I know I don’t need words to admit what he sees.
“Get up.” He orders one last time.
I surprise myself when I stand and do as he says.
Reid has been skating around the ice for over an hour.
It took me about twenty minutes to find the courage and enter the arena, completely sprinting by the light pole I’m not even close to being ready to face.
Another twenty to force myself down to the ice, instead of watching from afar.
And only thirty minutes to stop having a flashback every time Reid’s shot hits the net, and to not mistake it for the sound of my leg snapping in half.
So overall, this is a real success, which is totally pathetic because I’m barely holding it together.
I watch from the bench as Reid runs drills, working on his shot and stick work. It’s been a whole season since I’ve seen him play. During my year away, I’ve looked at stats occasionally, but never found the strength to turn on the game, let alone come to one.
Reid, despite being drafted first overall at only eighteen, seems adamant on graduating before signing his contract with Detroit.
We’ve had endless arguments about it. But whenever Brennan and I—or even Coach Bowen—bring it up, he gets in a shitty mood.
It’s safe to say he’s more than ready after watching him play today, so I can’t help but wonder what’s holding him back.
Unless it’s something other than hockey…
Maybe it’s whoever has him smiling like a fucking idiot nowadays that’s got him so firm on waiting.
Reid skates up as I’m lost in my thoughts.
“I see you finally made it inside.”
I flip him off, but I can’t help but be appreciative of his tough love for dragging me here.
Deep down, I knew I needed to get back on the ice before next week. Before I’m out here on my own for clinicals. And let’s face it, I was never going to do it without his insistent nagging. So I suppose it’s for the best.
“Thanks,” I admit as he takes a long drag of water. “You were right—sometimes you just have to take the hit and get it over with.”
He nods. “Sure, you don’t want to take a few shots? I promise I won’t laugh at your rusty form,” he jokes, but I shake my head.
One step at a time. One day, I might skate again. But not today.
I know I shouldn’t bring it up, but I can’t help it, “Why won’t you sign that contract and get the fuck outta here before it’s too late?” I grill, giving him a pointed look.
He shakes his head a few times, “I’ll sign after graduation—before my contract’s deadline.”
I bite back the words thick on my tongue: Unless your career ends before then.
One torn ACL, one broken leg, one bad play, and it’s all fucking over.
Then you’re the washed-up loser everyone pities.
Spending the rest of your life punching a time clock, rubbing ICYHOT into an athlete’s sore muscles, but never able to dull the pain that’ll never be you out there again.
Or…so I want to fucking scream at him.
I shake my head; those are my problems, not his.
“Does it have anything to do with whoever has you smiling all the time now?” I push.
“I mean, I know I’ve been gone for a year…
but it seems like the Reid I remember spent a lot more time drunkenly picking up chicks and starting ignorant fights than grinning at a phone screen. ” I angle my head at him.
My heart aches a bit. Reid does seem different than when I left. Or maybe it’s just in my head.
Change...is inevitable, after all. Just because I want nothing more than to go back in time doesn’t mean everyone else isn’t content with moving forward.
He pulls his sweatshirt over his mouth, wiping the sweat from his face as he tries to catch his breath. Reid shrugs, taking a deep breath. “It’s…it’s not what you think.” But he won’t meet my eyes.
Lying son of a bitch. And to his best friend of all people. But fine, I’ll let him keep his secrets.
I can’t help but grin, a chuckle blooming in my chest as I throw my head back in laughter.
“What?” He mumbles, throwing a towel in my direction.
“Nothing.” I snort. “Enjoy living in delusionville.”
“That’s not even a fucking word.” He waves me off.
“Okay, so let’s pretend it’s not—” I point to his pocket, where his hand is already reaching to check his phone. “Whoever is on the other end of that phone…keeping you from signing—”
He shakes a finger at me. “I’d never let a woman stand between me and going pro—you know that.”
I give him a stern glance, like I’m warning him not to lie to me, but he reaches behind him, scratching his back. “It’s—” he blows out a deep breath. “—it’s just a promise I made.”
My smile quickly fades. I sit up straighter, my leg twitching as I quickly try to determine if I should ask him more.
Reid never talks about his personal life, and thankfully, before I have to make a choice to press him for an explanation or leave him be, he adds, “You know I didn’t have much growing up—I want something reliable, to fall back on if things don’t work out with hockey. ”
Right.
He doesn’t want to end up as a washed-up hockey star with a dead-end future.
He doesn’t want to end up like…me.
“Shit,” he curses. “You know I wasn’t referring to you.” His eyes slam closed. He’s always been bad with words; anyone around him long enough knows that. “I just…I just made a promise. Okay?”
I blow a heavy breath out. I try to think about what to say next, but I come up short. The only thing I think of is how, whenever I was down and in my head, he’d always crack a joke to lighten the mood.
I swallow dryly, shoving him backward on the ice as I stand.
“Probably for the best,” I chide. “You know, so you can enjoy the playing time while you can…before your ass gets sore riding the bench watching the big boys.”
We both know my words are a joke. Morgan Reid will be a breakout star in the NHL. Whenever that day comes, that is...
I turn to leave, having spent enough time here for one night. “I’m going to grab something to eat—do you wanna come?”
His response is almost immediate. “No. No, I think I’m going to meet up with someone after I’m done here.”
That gets my attention. I spin around. “So when will I get to meet her?” I question, brows piqued with interest.
But he flips me off, skating around the ice and going back to his drills. Before I leave, he yells, “Trust me…something tells me you’d love her. She likes busting my balls.”
My chest shakes with laughter as I call back, “Shit, I think I’m already in love with her.”
“FUCK OFF!” He yells as the doors close behind me.
Whoever she is, she must be a hell of a woman to turn Reid’s eye away from hockey with something as trivial as a single text message.
As I walk proudly out of the arena, I can’t help but think of Aubrey.
She was always that person for me.