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I turned and walked away from him by way of answer, not to be cruel, but because I felt sick. If I’d tried to say more, I’d have barfed on his shoes. That wasn’t the statement I wanted to make.
Spencer followed me halfway to my bedroom, but by the time I’d packed my overnight bag, he was nowhere in sight. I listened a moment, trying to hear him, but the house was dead quiet. Maybe he’d left. I got in my car and drove over to Lola’s, and she let me in without too many questions. She made up the sofa bed and fixed me some tea, and told me we’d talk more when I felt ready.
The next morning, I woke up and reached for my phone, and I didn’t scroll my notifications for new texts from Spencer. Instead, I called Leila from the apartment I’d toured. I told her I’d take it. I’d move in right away. She told me I was lucky, because another couple had seen it, and she was pretty sure they’d wanted it too. But I had called first, so yeah. I was lucky.
I hung up and pulled my pillow over my face, and I screamed into it.
Yeah.
Lucky me.
CHAPTER 21
SPENCER
Our last game was a nail-biter, down to the wire.
We came out strong, for an explosive first period, two goals for Rodriguez and one for me. Second period, I scored again, but our opponents had rallied. They were out for blood. Their defense kept me busy while they scored two goals, and then one more in the final seconds.
We went into third period with a slim one-point lead, which we lost to a long shot from just past the neutral zone. It was a shot that never should’ve gone in, never should’ve been made, even, but somehow, it flew. It sailed past our goalie like a bolt of greased lightning, hit the back of the net, and bounced out again. Enrique bellowed his fury.
“No way. No way!”
We focused and fought hard, but our foes fought back harder. We held them off into overtime, kept the score four to four, but six minutes into overtime, they got the puck. I gave frantic chase, and so did Rodriguez, but they stormed our defense, swarming our goal. For one hopeful second, I got my stick on the puck, broke it back our way, but all in vain. Their center man swooped in and made a slapshot, and it whizzed past our goalie — He shoots. He scores.
That was the end of our bid for the cup. We’d come close, so close, and gone out with a bang, but a loss was a loss. It still felt like shit.
I sat on the bench when the action was done, a season of aches settling into my body. My back hurt. My legs hurt, especially that right one. My scar felt all tender where the blade had gone in. I kneaded it, winced, then kept on kneading.
“You played well,” said Coach Nelson. “This wasn’t our year. But next year, I’m thinking?—”
I tuned him out. He wasn’t who I needed. Last year, when we crapped out shy of the playoffs, Izzy and Leon had invaded the locker room. They’d staged a whole kidnapping, dragged me out on the town, and by the end of the night, I’d almost stopped hurting.
I looked up, half-hopeful, but the door stayed closed. No sounds of scuffling rose from the hall. Of course they weren’t coming. Why would they be? Everything Izzy yelled in my face had been true, the way I broke up with her, my dumbass excuses. My stubborn refusal to tell her the truth. I had put the blame on her. I had been a douchebag. And I hadn’t reached out to her to set it to rights.
“You just gonna sit there?” said Enrique.
I grunted and set to unlacing my skates. Would it have been so hard to tell her the truth? Look, it’s not your fault. I’m in stupid love. I know you don’t want that, and that’s okay. I just need a minute, you know, to cool off.
It would’ve stung saying that, a blow to my ego, but my ego could take it. Our friendship might not. Izzy had promised we’d still be friends, but everyone said that — yeah, sure, I’ll call you, but they never did.
Leon hadn’t talked to me much either since Izzy moved out. He claimed he was busy, but he was Izzy’s friend first. It wouldn’t surprise me if he ditched me too.
Dan plopped down on my other side, across from Enrique. He elbowed me hard.
“You’re coming out with us, right?”
“Nah, I think?—”
“He’s coming out with us.” He pumped his fist at Enrique. “Come on, get your gear off. We’re gonna get laid!”
I snorted into my helmet. “You’re not exactly my type.”
“I’m heartbroken,” said Dan. “But you know what I meant. C’mon, we came within one game of the Stanley Cup. Everyone’s gonna want us, and we don’t have training tomorrow. You’re coming out with us, so hurry your ass up.”
I thought about refusing, but I was all out of fight. I stripped my gear off and hit the showers, and checked my phone out of habit. Nothing from Izzy. Leon had texted earlier to wish me good luck, but nothing since then. Had he watched the game?
I jammed my phone in my pocket and met up with the team. We headed out to some club I hadn’t been to before, not really what I’d call my kind of place. It was sparkly, upscale, with a “VIP loft.” We ended up there, peering down from above. Watching the dance floor and guzzling champagne.
