“He’s twenty-five years old,” I say. “Almost twenty-six.”
Scully nods. “Old enough to know what he wants. Which is you.”
I sigh.
He says, “Just…thank the guy for coming out tonight, would you? He didn’t have to. It would be the friendly thing to do.”
“Since when have I been friendly?”
“Not lately, that’s for damn sure.”
“I have my reasons,” I grumble.
“Do you, though?” he asks. “Seeing as I’m your best bud, and I don’t know what those reasons are, it’s kinda hard to take it on faith.”
This lands, and I feel a stab of guilt. Scully is always there for me. “Some things just aren’t easy to share.”
He shakes his head. “Okay. Just don’t take your pain out on Becker James. He doesn’t deserve your rage.”
I finger the edges of my phone. “What’s his damn number?”
Scully chuckles and reaches for his phone.
Forest
Hey, it's Seth Forrester. Got your number from Scully. Sorry if I was short with you after practice. Thanks for coming out tonight in the cold.
Beck
NP. It’s not even that cold. Winter is objectively the best season because you can always put on more layers but there's a legal and moral limit to how many clothes you can take off in summer.
Are you always like this?
Pretty much. I get weird when I'm nervous. When I'm super nervous I start ranking breakfast cereals by structural integrity.
I make you nervous?
You know you do. But it's fine. I'm used to being the weird goalie.
You're not weird. You're entertaining.
Still planning to make the game next week?
Probably. Unless I get called up. Or traded. Or hit by a meteorite.
Hope it’s not that last one. We need you.
The team, I mean.
The team needs my goaltending. What do YOU need?
I'd like to see you stop some more pucks. You're pretty amazing in net.
Cop-out, dude. I can be amazing in other places too. Or I could be. If this one hot bearded guy would let me prove it. Kinda need to see what’s under those flannel shirts.
Kid... Sorry. Beck…
Right. Too young. Even though I'm old enough to have a 401k and strong opinions about the proper way to load a dishwasher.
