“Hey,” he greeted, taking a hot chocolate from her and taking a sip. “Mmm. That’s delicious.”
Maisie leaned in, pressed her lips against his, giving him a slow, sweet kiss. When she pulled back, she licked her lips. “Yup. Yummy.”
This time, his smile reached his eyes and they crinkled with laughter. “Yummy?”
She nodded. “Absolutely. Your call go okay?”
“It was my publicist. She set up a last-minute interview for tomorrow since I’m in town anyway. I have to be at a radio station at noon. The good news is a buddy of mine who used to play for the Seahawks is in town visiting his family for Christmas, so I’ll see him.”
“Okay.” He didn’t say anything else and she didn’t really know how to push because talking about his job, as much as he clearlyloved it, seemed to put him on edge at times. “We can bail on Side Tap tonight.”
Nick took another drink of his hot chocolate and set it on the bench between them. “No way. I want to meet your friends. If you want to go, we’ll go.”
Holding his gaze, she wished she could see into his brain and know exactly what he was thinking so she could stop guessing. “Are you worried about playing?”
Nick sighed. “Yeah. I am. My panic attacks started before I got hurt but I feel like they’ve amped up in the time since. On top of worrying about my knee and the game, I’m worried that the invisible switch will flip no matter how hard I try and prepare for it.”
Maisie took his hand, careful of the hot drinks between them. “That’s hard.”
He nodded, looking straight ahead. “I need to get back on the ice. Being away from the team and not playing builds everything up in my head and makes the fear worse.”
Her heart actually ached in her chest, like someone was pressing on a bruise.
“Are you seeing someone?”
He turned his head so they were eye to eye. Even with people around, the way he looked at her made her feel like there was no one else in the room. “I am. I’m using strategies and working on shit, but it doesn’t change the fact that I don’t know what’ll happen when I show up to dress for the game. Or even practice. I haven’t seen my team in a couple of weeks.”
“Have they reached out?”
Nick looked away. “Yeah. They’re good guys. We’re a family. But it’s hard because no one really knows what’s going on. I mean, how do I tell them I’m healed physically but my head is messed up? Now, I’m supposed to go talk about hockey and playing with a buddy who also has no idea what’s going on and some deejay when I haven’t even been there for my team.”
Maisie hated the anger in his tone because she strongly suspected it was directed at himself. “Has someone asked you to keep quiet about the mental health piece?”
He turned to her again. “What do you mean?”
“Just, why haven’t you talked to the guys or whoever you’re close to on the team about what’s happening?”
Nick let go of her hand and the look he gave her made her stomach tighten uncomfortably. “Mostly because I can handle it. Everyone has shit to deal with. Mine isn’t special. It’s hard enough letting them down by not having been at the last few games and practices. They don’t need all the details.”
Her gaze widened and she sat up straighter. She stared at him a few seconds, trying to figure out how to reply. Finally, she went with honesty. “Wow. I sort of thought you were more enlightened than that.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” His back straightened too.
“There’s a lot of information online about the impact of professional sports on mental health. There are organizations and supports and an entire movement around normalizing mental health struggles not just for athletes but for people in general. You said these guys are your family. Why wouldanyonethink poorly of you for having feelings and emotions you need to sort through?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know that they would. I mean, yeah, I know there’s a lot of literature out there. My therapist said the same thing but it doesn’t meanIwant everyone in my business. Even the guys. I’ve always been private, and no matter how I go out, I’m at the end of my career. I don’t need people talking about my anxiety attacks rather than my skill on the ice. That’s not the legacy I want to leave. I don’t want that to be how everyone sees me.”
Maisie pulled in a deep breath, let it out slowly through pursed lips. She picked up her hot chocolate and ran a finger along the rim of the lid. Maybe she didn’t get parts of it, but what shedidget wasbasic human compassion. Nick wasn’t being honest with his team, which meant they couldn’t prove to him that they had it. That they’d have his back. Did he trust anyone to do that other than Ellie?
“I didn’t mean to be a dick,” Nick said quietly, leaning closer.
Maisie lifted her gaze and set it on him. “To me or yourself?”
“What?”
“I saw you, Nick. In the house, leaning against the door like you’d run six miles in the blazing sun without water. It was as real as a broken arm or leg even if it seems invisible to someone on the outside. You shouldn’t diminish it, make yourself feel less because of it. You also shouldn’t hide it from people who care about you the way you say your team does. They could help. You’re assuming the worst of them, thinking they would judge you for something out of your control.”
Nick closed his eyes and leaned back. He didn’t say anything for several moments, just sat beside her, there but not there, and she felt worry clawing its way up her throat, squeezing her lungs.
