“Right,” I say. “Solid. Reliable.”
Her brow furrows, and a few flecks of her mask fall from her face. “Cap, that’s a good thing. They know they’re getting quality every time you get into the crease.”
“Is it bad that I want to wow them? Just once, I wanted to blow someone’s mind with my skill.”
“What if your consistency is what blows people’s minds?
“So I’m predictable?” Pain overtakes my throat.
“No, not predictable. You’re … you’re like a metronome. You keep the beat and hold everyone to a high standard.”
“So I exist to keep other people going?”
“Not like that. How about a high-end battery?”
“People can put me in their devices when they need something. Got it.”
“Sean. That’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying you—everything about you—builds trust and confidence. Constancy, not just consistency. And certainly not predictability.” She pauses and looks away, and then a smile ticks the corner of her mouth up. “You’re that warm hug waiting after a long day at work. That favorite hoodie that always fits perfectly and makes you feel cute,” she says, not knowing that everything she’s saying is making me feel worse.
Is that really how she sees me? Like a warm hug? Like ahoodie?Hoodies and hugs don’t win contracts. And they sure don’t keep your heart from getting ripped out when the woman you love decides she’s too bored to put up with you for another minute.
“You’re not a failsafe; you’re a foundation.”
Her words were meant to comfort me. And on another night, maybe they would.
But right now, they feel like confirmation. Like even she sees me the way Otto does. A dependable placeholder until someone shinier’s ready. The boring slab of rock you can build a house on and then forget it even exists. The floor you walk on, you step on,you track dirt and mud across with no regard for how it feels to be tread upon day after day after day.
I force a smile. I’m glad my room is dark, or she’d see right through it. “Thanks. How was the rest of your day?”
She pauses, clearly sensing the shift but not sure how to push. “Good,” she says carefully. “Cleanup went okay. Serena was… Serena. But Eunice and Loretta had my back.”
“That’s good,” I say, eyes on the ceiling. “I’m glad.”
“You’re sure you’re okay?”
I nod. “Yeah. Just tired. I think I’m gonna hit the sack.”
She hesitates. “Okay. Well … I miss you. So much.”
I nod again, even though she can hardly see it. “Miss you, too.”
She leans closer to the screen, smiling and blowing me a kiss I wish I could feel. “Sleep well, Cap.”
“You too, Boss.”
I hang up before she can see my throat close up.
Before she can see me fall apart.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
SEAN
The harsh overhead lights bite almost as much as the cold when I get to the rink at 5:30 a.m.
I lace my skates slowly, my fingers still swollen and clumsy so early in the morning—the kind of stiffness that makes me wonder if I’ll ever be good at this again. Practice doesn’t start until seven, but I could use the extra time—not just to warm up, but to get my head on straight.
At least I slept like the dead last night. Of course, compared to the rest of the guysat camp, I’m practically on death’s doorstep, so that shouldn’t come as a surprise. But it was that kind of sound sleep where you don’t move a muscle all night, and when you wake up, you don’t know where or when it is, and you’re so disoriented, it’s hard to focus.
