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Colby dusts off the front of his shirt. “I was joking, anyway.”
We all roll our eyes, knowing he’s only half-kidding.
“I have high-functioning autism—er, Aspergers—whatever they’re calling it these days.”
West takes a step toward me. “Why didn’t you tell us before now? We wouldn’t judge you, man.”
“I know.” I hang my head, ashamed for having not trusted my closest friends with this. “It’s just that the NHL was this big opportunity to create a new identity for myself, and when people hear the word autism, they treat me differently.”
I hear a muddled burp from Nella and turn my head toward her. Mitch appears pleased by the burp, switches her to his other arm and unceremoniously plops the bottle back in her mouth. She sucks contentedly, not caring who’s holding her as long as there’s milk.
Mitch looks up at me like there’s nothing strange about this whole situation. “How did they treat you differently?”
Shuffling on my feet, I think back to college, when my teammates found out I received special tutoring because I have autism. They weren’t mean, necessarily, just fascinated.
“Back in college my teammates discovered I have autism, and they immediately found a box of pencils and threw them on the floor. Probably a hundred pencils scattered in every direction.” I drag a hand down my face. Still embarrassed by the debacle. “They all stared at me, expecting something. And when I asked them why the hell they threw pencils everywhere, they said in the movie Rain Man, someone drops a box of matches and the character who has autism counts them in like a half a second or something.”
West’s jaw drops in horror. “They didn’t”
I nod wearily. “They did.”
Mitch huffs a laugh through his nose. “I get why you’d want to keep it to yourself, but I’m also glad you finally trusted us enough to share it with us. Sharing hurtful things about our pasts helps us heal.”
We all turn to stare at Mitch, our usually broody and quiet teammate.
“What? I learned that in therapy,” he says, turning his attention back to Nella, who has pulled off the bottle and is now smiling at Mitch like he’s the best thing she’s ever seen. He grunts. “Hey, kid.”
“Mitch is right.” Colby nods his head. “This helps us understand you too, and now when you need space, we’ll get it. And we won’t pester you.”
I quirk an eyebrow, and he shrugs. “Okay, we’ll probably still pester you.”
Sitting back down, I lean my elbows on my knees. “I feel like a fraud. I act like this competent NHL captain when really, I’m watching you guys to pick up on social cues so I’m not awkward.”
West laughs. “Dude. You don’t need to be Mr. Congeniality to be an amazing captain. Most captains would’ve never put a brand-new player on the first line. They wouldn’t have given him the chance. But you look at skills and how people work together on the ice. You lead us well, Remy.”
Bruce nods. “Agreed. Can you imagine if Colby was team captain? He’d just try to get more camera time.”
Colby narrows his eyes at him. “I don’t have to try to get more camera time. The camera guys love me.”
Bruce rolls his eyes and walks over to where Mitch is sitting and holding Nella. “Can I have her back now?”
Mitch growls. “No.”
“You’re the only real adult out of all of us, man. I’m afraid you have no choice but to lead us. And we wouldn’t have it any other way. Social cues be damned.” Colby playfully punches my shoulder.
“Thanks, guys. Sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve such incredible teammates. Then other times I want to convince Coach and Tom to trade all of you.” I smirk so they know I’m joking.
Bruce grins, planting his hands on his hips in a superman pose. “Guys, I think we need to hug it out.”
Mitch and I say no at the same time.
CHAPTER
FORTY-FIVE
FORD: THE SUMMER AFTER FRESHMAN YEAR OF COLLEGE
Last night was the NHL draft in Nashville, Tennessee. Although having the spotlight on me was overwhelming, my dream of being drafted drowned out the chaos. I was chosen by the D.C. Eagles and will report for training camp in a month. It was a late night, celebrating with my parents and the general manager of the team. But the only person on my mind is Amber Park. We drove back from Nashville this morning, and the first thing I did was pick a bundle of the Pink Piano roses from Mom’s garden for her. Her favorites.
