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“I’ve missed this,” he slurs.
I nod, because we haven’t been video calling as much lately. “But we need to talk, Cill. Something has happened.”
“She’s never going to talk to me again,” he mumbles. “This feels so good.”
What?
Is he talking about Trina? Does this mean he broke off their friendship finally?
“Cillian, can you focus? This is important.”
“It is. It’s the most important time in my life and she’s not even here for it,” he says, and I know now he means me. I’m not there for him the way I’ve always been. He’s also never asked me to be, not once did he ask me to move with him to Boston.
I would have gone.
“Cillian, can you look at me?” He hasn’t looked at the phone once, still only giving me his profile while he’s focused on something else in the room. Someone? Oh god.
“No. If I look at her, she’ll look sad, and I’ll feel sorry.”
“You’re not sorry, you’ve wanted this as much as I have,” another voice purrs in the background and I tremble. With hurt, with anger. He didn’t even wait a fucking day.
“Are you kidding me? It’s been hours and you already have her in your bed?” His phone shifts, panning down his naked body to where Trina is perched between his legs, one hand on the phone, the other on his dick. “I’m fucking pregnant, you assholes.”
There’s a gasp from the other side of the call and then it ends. Someone hung up on me. Dread washes over me with my tears.
Every goal, every dream I’ve had slips away. Pregnant, no boyfriend, and a completely uncertain future.
I cry myself to sleep, gripping my phone, hoping that he’ll call back and ask for an explanation of what I just told him.
Morning comes; his call doesn’t.
So, I block him again and start building my new life, shaky brick by shaky brick.
ISLA
FIVE YEARS LATER
Dad called for a mandatory family dinner tonight, something he only does whenever there is important information he wants to share with all of us at once.
“What do you think this is about?” Willa asks as we walk up to the front door of our parents’ house. The weather is nice today, clear and sunny. Mom will probably have dinner set up on the back deck that overlooks Puget Sound. Works for me, since it gives Sadie the yard to run around in. She enjoys chasing Mom’s poodle, Curly.
“The draft,” I answer, knowing in my gut I’m right. Two years ago, the NHL approved Seattle for an expansion team. Dad was hired to coach. The team, Seattle Blades, is about to make its official picks from all the other teams in the league.
Every team in the league has two options on protecting a certain number of their players from being drafted by the Blades. Neither option allows for them to protect more than eleven players. The Blades have to pick one unprotected player from every other team.
“Oh fuck, Cillian?” she asks, wide-eyed. I shrug. It’s an assumption that the Seattle Blades will draft him, but my gut says it’s the truth.
“Grams! I’m here,” Sadie yells as soon as we get the door open.
“Where?” my mom asks, looking all around at her own eye level.
“Here!” Sadie jumps up and down, causing Curly to bark excitedly.
“Oh! There you are.” She feigns astonishment, picking my daughter up in her arms. “We’re on the deck.”
“Hello to you too, Mother,” Willa snarks.
“Hello, daughters,” Mom says with exaggeration. Following her through the house and out the French doors that lead to the deck and yard, we find Dad on the grill.
