Chapter 16
Hazy
The Monday after Thanksgiving, Hazy’s parents and Jayden cleared out of Hazy’s house, leaving him and Livy to their own devices.
The Freeze had taken off on a road trip. Hazy was catching up on the reality TV show he’d fallen behind on because he’d been watching Phineas and Ferb on repeat with Livy.
She plopped down next to him and said, “I’m going to start dating again.”
He hadn’t been prepared to navigate that conversation. “Um, what?”
She leaned into him, showing him her phone. “It’s time to get back out there. I won’t find a partner by sitting on your couch watching kids’ shows.”
Hazy’s mind drifted back to the conversation with his mom over Thanksgiving. She seemed to think sitting around on Hazy’s couch was exactly where she’d find a partner. But he didn’t have to worry about that while his teammates were away.
“You ended a five-year relationship less than two months ago.”
“I think the length of my relationship is null and void considering he’s having a child with the woman he cheated on me with.”
She had a point. The idea of Livy meeting up with random strange men made his stomach churn.
He wanted to keep her to himself for a little while longer.
Odds were, any man she dated would have reservations about her relationship with him and his team, regardless of how innocent those relationships may be.
He failed to contrive a valid objection to her finding someone new. “But I still need you,” he said.
“And you’ll still have me. I’m sure Daisy wouldn’t mind babysitting occasionally.”
He ignored the babysitting insult because she had another great point.
Why did she have to be good at logic? Daisy had been bugging him to hang out.
He kept putting her off because she’d insist on talking about his injury, Livy’s involvement in his life, and what his plans were for the rest of the season.
He didn’t have answers to any of her questions.
Livy scrolled through the app store on her phone, a list of dating apps a mile long splayed out on her screen. She clicked through a few and read the app descriptions. When she downloaded Tinder, Hazy said, “I thought you were looking for something serious.”
“I’m casting a wide net.”
“Tinder is for hookups. You won’t find serious there.”
“I have multiple friends who met their husbands on Tinder. You use it for hookups. Doesn’t mean everyone else does.”
Hazy, who downloaded the app years ago strictly for that purpose, became aware that he hadn’t opened it in weeks. His hand was boring company.
“Maybe you should stick to Hinge.”
“That’s definitely where I’m focusing my attention. I set up my account last night,” she said, opening the app. She handed him her phone. “What do you think?”
He scrolled through her profile. “Oh my God,” he said. “Have you ever used a dating app?”
Livy shrugged. “I met Lance in school. I’ve never had to fill out one of these stupid questionnaires.”
“I can tell.” Hazy chuckled. “If you put every detail of your life like this, you’ll scare people off.”
Livy frowned and held out her hand for her phone. Hazy kept it. “I answered the questions.”
“You wrote like four paragraphs for every question. Nobody is reading all this. People swipe fast; they need quick information.”
“If they aren’t interested enough to read the profile, I don’t want them. People will self-select out.”
“Good theory, but that’s not how people use these apps.” Hazy scrolled through the rest of her profile. When he got to the photos, he snorted. “What the hell are these pictures?”
Livy snatched her phone out of his hand. “What do you mean? They’re cute!”
“Okay,” Hazy said as he scooted closer to her so he could show her what he meant. He pointed to the first picture. “Adorable picture. It’s also like twelve years old. You don’t look like that anymore.”
“I guess that’s true.”
He scrolled to the next picture. “This makes it seem like this is your baby.”
“Well, it’s not. Don’t guys want to know I would be comfortable with a baby? That is kind of the whole point of dating. To meet someone and build a family.”
“No. Nobody cares about that. You already answered the question about kids earlier in the profile. This screams single mom, which isn’t a bad thing, but is misleading.”
“Huh. What else?”
He scrolled again. “In this one, you have my last name on your back.”
“Thousands of people wear your last name on their backs every game day. He’ll think I’m a hockey fan. Which is true.”
“It may be a little weird when he finds out we’re friends. You’re pantsless in this picture.”
“I’m wearing shorts. And the jersey is as long as a dress. It’s cute!”
“It’s adorable. I love it. I wouldn’t love it if I was on a date with you and you said, ‘My best friend is Connor Hale,’ and that’s the picture you showed me.”
Livy opened her camera roll. “What pictures would you choose?”
Hazy scrolled through the photos. She had dozens of selfies and pictures with friends. Livy with puppies (he selected one of those), other people’s children, and making weird faces. He scrolled and scrolled and scrolled. When he stumbled upon a dick pic, he halted.
“Uh, not that one.” He laughed. “Whose dick is that?”
Livy grimaced. “Don’t scroll farther unless you want to see more.
Lance sent them all the time. He asked me to return the favor, but I don’t know.
What if he showed someone? It always felt weird—oh!
” She closed the photos app and opened a different app.
“I had these taken for my birthday. They might work.”
The album she showed him had pictures of her in red lingerie, spread out in tasteful, sexy poses.
Hazy’s mouth went dry. His mom’s words, ‘But you’ve never thought about maybe being a little.
.. more?’ rang through his head. He was having an existential crisis about his best friend, and he hated it.
His dick didn’t. It twitched in his pants.
“These are great,” he managed to get out. “But not for your profile.”
He opened his photo app, navigated to the album titled ‘Livy,’ selected five candids he’d taken over the last few weeks, and sent them to her. “Use those,” he said as her phone dinged, then excused himself to spiral in the privacy of his own room.
Belly flopping onto his bed gave him the emotional satisfaction of a toddler kicking and screaming, but it hurt his leg. He twisted to lie on his side and rubbed the ache away. His concern with Livy’s love life needed to stop. And his dick needed to remember that she was like his sister.
Later, Livy stood over him as he did his physical therapy exercises. Most of them required him to lie flat on the floor, and she would need to help him stand. She counted his reps out loud while he raised his injured leg in the air, testing his range of motion.
He finished one exercise and moved to the next. Out of the blue, she said, “Jayden asked me what my life plans are over Thanksgiving.”
Hazy grunted while he switched exercises. She continued counting his reps. Between sets he asked, “What did you say?”
“I didn’t say anything.” She sighed, blowing a strand of hair out of her face. “I feel so stuck.”
His leg threatened to fall off, but he pulled his knee to his chest again anyway. “You’re going to date again. That’s something.”
Livy wrote something in the notebook she’d been using to track his physical therapy exercises. Robbie advised him to do some exercises under Livy’s supervision every day and come into the practice rink three times a week. Livy was a drill sergeant, ruthless in her adherence to the rules.
“I guess,” she said. “It could take me years to find someone, though.”
Hazy, breathing hard, said, “I always heard love finds you the second you stop looking.”
“That’s what sad, lonely people say to make themselves feel better,” Livy said.
She lowered herself to sit cross-legged on the floor, counting aloud as he struggled through his routine.
“I guess. But you have other goals you could work on.”
“That’s rich coming from you,” she said.
He furrowed his brow as he finished his set, confused. “What do you mean?”
Livy huffed. “Name one long-term goal.”
Hazy didn’t hesitate. “Win a Cup.”
Rolling her eyes, Livy said, “That’s been your only goal since you were ten. What about other stuff?”
He collapsed onto his yoga mat, thrilled to be done for the day. “What other stuff?”
“Anything other than hockey.”
Hazy stared at the ceiling and rubbed his forehead, debating what else he could work toward. “I want my damn leg to heal.”
“That’s still hockey-related.”
“Not only hockey. Having a broken leg is super inconvenient.”
Livy wrote a note in her sparkly purple journal, then slammed it shut.
“We should create a vision board. If you write it down, it has to get done, right?”
“You said that when you were 12, and 16, and 20, and I still have no Stanley Cup to speak of.”
As kids they’d spent countless hours cutting pictures out of magazines to create collages of their dream lives. He’d never found the activity fruitful, but flipping through pictures of beautiful people had never been a chore.
She pursed her lips. “You’re closer now than you’ve ever been.”
He gestured to his broken leg with a bewildered expression to make her laugh.
It worked.
“Okay,” she said through giggles. “Maybe not closer than ever. But you play for an NHL team! That’s closer than most people ever get.”
He threw his hands up. She shifted, straightening her legs out.
“Fine then. Pretend you’ve already got the Cup. Hell. Imagine you have five Cups. What then? What else do you want out of life?”
He shrugged. “I’ll eventually do the marriage and babies thing. But I can’t focus on that until I’ve done the Cup. One goal at a time and all that, right?”
Her eyebrows furrowed. “Your teammates balance hockey and personal lives. Why can’t you?”
Hazy wanted a family. A partner he loved. Kids to dote on. A dog. Fuck, he wanted a dog so bad.
“It’s not fair to ask someone to cater their life to my needs. Why would someone choose a spouse or father who’s gone half the year? I don’t understand how the WAGs do it.”
“Ooooh,” Livy said, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “This is because you’re needy. You can’t go four seconds without attention, so you assume your partner won’t be able to either.”
“I am not that needy!” He totally was.
“Sure you aren’t.”
She stood, then grabbed his hand and hoisted him to his feet.