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Cooling the edges of the discomfort that had crept in over the last months, soothing the doubt in myself and insecurity about my body. Making the worries about getting older, parts sagging, skin and flesh not as taut or bouncy as it had once been, disappear off into space.
I’m different.
What if all of this—Stefan leaving, my marriage imploding—what if it all stemmed from me changing, from our love unable to keep up?
What if…
I was the problem.
And not us.
That thought had eaten at me for months.
And now to know it wasn’t my body, wasn’t me?—
Well, I can handle not being the sole problem in our relationship.
The only trouble left is that I don’t know Stefan’s half yet.
Sex and mimosas. Book club and more time with Dan. Drinking too much, passing out, waking in the middle of the night to make love—more orgasms instead of talking.
Then Rox and Dan. Pregame prep.
And…now.
Two more days have passed, and Stefan and I are…playing make believe. Meanwhile, we haven’t talked, not about whatever he’s holding back from me, whatever is the truth underlying everything that pulled us apart.
We’re just…slipping back into old patterns, old comforts, old routines.
The whistle trills and I yank myself back into focus.
Roxie is in the stands, Dan and Stefan sitting on either side of her. I need to play well—not just for the team, but for her and Dan. Show off for my ultimate fans in the stands.
Show off for?—
Stefan.
Old patterns. Old comforts. Old routines.
My stomach tightens.
The guys line up for the face-off, and I push that away. I do what I’m best at—locking it down, focusing on hockey, getting ready to keep the puck out of the net.
The ref lets the biscuit drop and the centers go to battle, Ben winning it back into the corner.
The Sierra are on it in an instant, and then the war is on.
Fighting for every touch of the puck, every pass, every shot?—
I grunt, push hard to the side, digging my edge in, ignoring the pain through my torso as I stretch my pad out, reach my glove up.
I hear the smack of the puck in my glove before I feel the sting across my palm, am clenching my fingers, closing around it, holding tight as I wait for the whistle.
Trill!
Thank God.
I straighten, give my side a break, toss the puck to the ref and buy some time for the pain to subside by taking a long swig of water. But as I set the bottle in the holder, my eyes drift up a few rows and I grin when I see Roxie up and dancing, Dan beside her, doing his goofy big brother jig that has Rox in stitches.
