Chapter 42
THE LONG SKATE HOME
Declan
I knew I wasn’t in the best shape of my life, but I didn’t expect to hurt quite this badly after three days of working out with the Thrusters.
It’ll make a great documentary though.
All of that whimpering and grunting I’m doing, the way I can barely talk for the camera for all of the panting as my lungs readjust to this level of activity—yeah.
The masses watching this will be laughing their asses off.
But at least I’ll get sponsorship offers, even if they’re from medical supply stores advertising topical pain relief creams and oxygen tanks.
“Gonna live?” the Thrusters’ captain asks me as I grunt to myself while sinking onto the bench in the dressing room before morning skate.
Lavoie’s a good guy.
Most of the time.
He’s an ass with the way he’s grinning at me right now though. Makes me not unhappy for the times I fought him when we were on opposing teams.
I lift a middle finger.
He chuckles. “Still look good out there, Foxy.”
I grimace.
Don’t quite believe him despite knowing he’s telling the truth.
Hockey—it’s like riding a bicycle.
My body still knows all the right moves, and I’m falling into the groove again quickly.
This week’s the week my skills are waking back up and my muscles are remembering the level of conditioning I’m capable of.
And tomorrow night, I’ll be on the ice with the team when they take on Massachusetts here at home.
Just for warm-ups, but it’s a step.
I almost didn’t tell Ginny last night. Didn’t want to say it out loud and jinx it. But the minute she picked up the phone and I heard her voice, I blurted it out.
She had fun with her I knew you could do its and you’ll be starting soons.
I soaked in the sound of her squeals and belief in me.
Lavoie drops to the bench beside me and pulls off his shoes.
“Heard you almost said no,” he says.
We’re alone. Shade’s not even here yet.
“Asking if I’m committed?” I ask Lavoie.
“Are you?”
No.
No, I’m not.
My heart’s in Sonoma.
I talked to Ginny until I fell asleep last night, and I’ll call her again as soon as morning skate’s over, when I’m sure I won’t wake her. Just like I have every day since I got here.
I glance sideways at him. “Your girlfriend home right now? Baseball’s over, isn’t it?”
He grins, shaking his head. “Fucking champs, bro. She’s in LA. Coaches’ retreat and some commercial stuff.”
“Miss her?” I ask.
He’s clearly proud.
As he should be. She’s the hitting coach for the Fireballs, one of very few women coaches in professional baseball. And the Fireballs just swept the ultimate baseball championship series.
“That’s not an answer to are you committed?” he tells me.
“You ever been forced out of something you loved, thought you’d moved on with your life, and then found something new that you love even more?”
“No.” He’s still grinning.
“How nice for you.”
“So you’re enjoying this documentary thing?” he asks.
“Yeah. Been fun.”
“Nothing at all to do with your best friend’s ex?”
I slide another look at him.
I haven’t said Ginny’s name here at the rink. Haven’t even said anything to suggest I’m seeing anyone until right now.
Shade and I have an understanding, and I don’t think he would’ve let it slip either.
Lavoie stares back at me.
“What are you talking about?” I ask him.
“Just heard a rumor.”
“From who?”
“Social media.”
“Show me.”
He doesn’t reach for his phone. “We’re playing Indianapolis next week.”
I’m aware.
Alex has been in my texts, asking to meet up.
He’s thrilled for me.
Fucking thrilled.
“And?” I say to Lavoie.
“Owe it to your teammates to give us a heads-up if you’ll have a target on your back during the game.”
I sink back and rub my eyes. “I was going to tell him Sunday.”
The start of his four-day game break.
Before his team rolls into Copper Valley.
Not that I can get time off to do it in person right now like I wanted to.
“Might want to tell him sooner,” Lavoie says.
“Who’s saying what?”
This time, he pulls his phone out and opens it to an app I don’t use often.
It’s mostly pictures instead of videos.
And right at the top of the screen is a picture of me with Adelaide.
With the old logo for Makepeace Cellars clearly visible on the barrel behind us.
I suck in a breath.
Lavoie pulls up the comment section.
It’s always the comment section.
It’s always the comment section.
And right there, top comment— Isn’t that the winery where the wedding wrecker lives? That bitch who destroyed his best friend’s wedding?
Fuuuuuck.
I take Lavoie’s phone and open the replies to the comment.
And that’s when my blood runs cold.
People on the internet are doing what people on the internet do, and they’re talking shit.
About Ginny.
A little about me—whatever—but mostly about Ginny.
About rumors that we were at Zander’s show together.
Left a hotel together.
Made pottery together.
They’re starting to piece together that it’s Ginny in the background, laughing on my pottery video.
I shove Lavoie’s phone back at him and dial Mabel on mine.
“Saw the news?” Mabel says by way of greeting.
“Shit.”
“Ginny’s still sleeping.”
“Good. Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?”
“We’ve got her, Declan. This is what we do.”
“How bad is it?”
“It’s fine right now because she doesn’t know yet. Ignorance is bliss. I turned her alarm off and stole her phone, so hopefully she gets a few more hours of ignorant bliss.”
“Flow—”
“I let her out to go potty and I fed her and now she’s back in bed with Ginny.”
Good.
Good.
It’s why I left my dog. So she could be there for Ginny.
Lavoie flashes me another screen.
This one’s a fucking sports gossip site.
Alex McMaren’s Best Friend Wooing the Woman Who Wrecked His Wedding
“Wooing?” I say. “Who the fuck says wooing?”
“I think they were going for alliteration,” Lavoie replies.
“That’s not Shade,” Mabel says.
“Team captain just gave me the heads-up,” I tell her. “If Ginny wakes up, tell her I’m on my way.”
“We’ve been through far worse together,” she replies. “And we’ve got you too. Do what you need to do there. Ginny’s going to be okay.”
“That’s not the fucking point, Mabel.”
I’m grabbing my shoes and shoving my gear into my bag.
Lavoie’s not stopping me.
“You can’t drop everything and run across the country every time someone on the internet says something rude about Ginny,” Mabel says.
She’s right.
I can’t.
“Watch me,” I reply.
This hockey comeback?
It’s not happening.
I don’t even want it to.
Not if it keeps me from Ginny.
Hockey’s what I’ve always done.
But the man who loves Ginny above all else is who I’ve always been.
I don’t want to love her from across the country.
I want to love her where she is.
I hang up with Mabel and drop to put my shoes back on.
“Who’s Mabel?” Lavoie asks.
“Friend.”
“Just a friend?”
“Ginny’s best friend.”
“You’re leaving?”
I straighten and look at him. “You ever fall in love with someone the world’s judged completely wrong?”
Asshole smirks at me. “Oh, I dunno. Doesn’t sound at all like falling in love with the woman destined to be the first lady general manager of a men’s pro baseball team.”
“Yeah. I’m leaving.”
“Foxy.”
I fling my bag over my shoulder as Shade appears in the doorway. “Don’t give a shit what you’re about to say, Lavoie. Hockey can suck it. She might not need me, but I’m gonna be there for her anyway.”
“Goddammit.” Shade lifts his camera. “Say that again.”
“Foxy.”
I turn around and glare at the captain. “We’re done here.”
“Thrusters have your back, man. Family emergencies happen. We’ve got you covered here.”
I stare at him.
I know as well as he does that me walking out of this building means I won’t be welcome back.
He’s not smirking or laughing or even grinning anymore.
He’s on his feet, staring at me, stone-cold serious.
“Second year Addie was coaching the Fireballs, Cooper Rock bailed on the first game of the fucking championship series because his girlfriend was all over the news. The Fireballs’ first time making it all the way there in forever.
His biggest dream since he was a kid. You think we’re gonna play across town from the Fireballs and take the heat in the media because our newest D-man needs to be there for his girlfriend?
Team’s got your back, bro. Go do what you need to do, then get your ass back here and make your fucking comeback.
If she’s worthy of you, it’s what she’ll want too. ”
“Waiting for you to say that hockey can suck it line again, Foxy,” Shade murmurs behind his camera.
Lavoie rolls his eyes. “Go on,” he tells me. “Go get your girl.”
Fuckin’ right.
I’m going to get my girl.