“We’re always honest with each other, Aulie. Don’t change that now.”
And by that I mean she’s always honest with me. I’m harboring a million secrets and lie to her and myself daily, but who’s keeping score here?
“Last night, I got the impression that you were using me as a distraction, so you didn’t have to be vulnerable with your feelings. If that’s the kind of friend you need, I don’t know that I love being that person for you.” A tear falls down her cheek. “I’m sorry. I’m tired and overly sensitive, but sometimes it feels like I’m your friend and not the other way around. Like, of course, you’ll keep me around—I bail you out of situations and care for you, but what happens when I can’t or don’t want to do that anymore?”
I don’t know how to answer her. Guilt tears my nerves to shreds. Apparently, I’ve hidden how I feel about Aulie so well that she somehow thinks she’s expendable when I need her in my life as much as I need oxygen to breathe or water to survive.
I lean forward and wipe a tear from her cheek. “I’m so sorry I’ve made you feel this way.”
Hiding my feelings is doing more damage than I realized. Aulie can’t think like this for another minute, even if it means I have to show her more of me than I’d like to.
I can—I will—do betterfor her.
With the fresh air clearing my lungs and Aulie’s words tight to my chest, my perspective shifts for the first time. I’ve been too in my head to think about anyone else, and it’s hurt one of the most important people in my life.
“I promise. I’m going to make this up to you.” The hollow spring in my chest bursts forth, and suddenly I’m overwhelmed with feelings I’d usually rather not deal with.
There’s a spot, not too far from here, that means more to me than any other place in the state, and suddenly, I have the courage to go there. As long as Aulie’s with me.
“Come on.” I stand, offering her my hand. “There’s one last place I want to stop before we go home.”
Warily, Aulie regards my outstretched hand and narrows her eyes at me. “Where do you want to go?”
“Nowhere that’d make sense until we’re there—but trust me.”
Her palm slips into mine. Sparks fly up my arm on contact, and I let them, not bothering to hide how much such an insignificant touch decimates me. If she glanced up she’d see one of those ridiculous looks of longing plastered on my face that the rom-coms Grady watches love to slow pan in on. “That’s not as easy a command to comply with as you’d think,” she says, flashing a teasing smile my way.
“Oh good, she’s coming back to me.” I chuckle, packing our pizza and turning the car down Route 27.
Thirty minutes and one Italian sub shop later, I park my car in front of an ice rink in Exeter, a small seacoast town in New Hampshire.
Rummaging through the plastic bag, I place two ginger ales in the console, a large bag of salt and vinegar chips between us, and hand Aulie one-half of the sub. Onions, pickles, and vinegar fill the car with nostalgia, and I swallow the ball in my throat, begging me to run away from the sensation.
With curiosity, Aulie watches as I undo the tape and paper on my sub half. I ignore the attention, trying to let myself ride the waves of emotions as they crash into me. The sharp bite of the onion does little to quiet the tide, and after a second bite and a hit of the spicy oil, the danger I’ll start crying in this parking lot becomes a genuine possibility.
Shit. This is hard. Okay. We can do this.
Aulie still keeps her gaze on me, blinking a few times and then looking at the rink like she can’t understand why we’re here. That’s fair.
“My dad used to bring me here,” I say after my third bite.
Aulie’s sandwich stops, resting against her lips.
“We had a lot of tournaments at this rink, and my dad would usually bring me. If there was a big break between games, or sometimes before them, we’d grab these sandwiches, sit here in the parking lot, and talk. Sometimes about a girl. Sometimes he’d get philosophical and share quotes he had just read, but we never talked about hockey. It was the one time where it was just me, my dad and this sandwich—no one else fighting for John Parker the hockey legend’s attention.”
A warm hand encompasses mine, and I glance down to see that I’d started trembling at some point.
An unyielding pressure challenges the confines of my chest, pushing and threatening to explode.
“Anyway, that’s the story.” I shrug, hoping to bury the swell of emotions. That’s enough growth for today.
“Jack?” Aulie says, her thumb rubs tiny circles on the top of my hand. “Thank you for bringing me here. This means a lot, you sharing this with me.”
“Thank you for being the friend I could do this with.” I smile back. “I’m sorry I’ve been taking you for granted. I’ve been so up my ass. Seriously, I’m happy we’re friends.”
Aulie regards me, a well of tears rimming her eyes, but her smile rests more naturally than it did a few hours ago, telling me I’m successfully rebuilding whatever broke between us last night. “I guess we’ve both been up each other’s asses.”
I raise my brow, and her eyes widen. “I didn’t mean—it came out wrong!” She playfully swats at me. “You’re literally the worst, Parker. I don’t know why I’m friends with you.”
