“I-I … like him, so yes.”
“Then there you go, Shay. It’s easy. It’s only complicated because you’re making it feel that way,” she says, and my jaw falls.
“You’re insane. It’s complicated because it’s fucking complicated.” My voice grows louder, but I catch myself, realizing I’m being defensive. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” She dismisses it without another thought. “Look, if you feel strongly about him and I’m sure he feels the same way about you, explore that. Anything else, all the other circumstances that make it feel impossible will find a way. They always do. But you can’t just give up on the way you feel about him because you’re scared. I want you to be happy, Shay. Youdeserveto be happy.”
Tears roll down my cheeks, and I quickly wipe them away, but Kyle must sense me crying because he sits up and licks my cheeks. Damn sweet boy is going to make me cry all over again.
Could it really be that easy?
My phone vibrates, and I see the alarm pop up, reminding me to get my ass on the road. She and I will have to finish this conversation later.
“I’ve got to go, Mom, or I’m going to be late.” Kyle’s head pops up, and guilt claws at my chest. “Your people will be taking care of you while I'm gone, buddy. It’s okay.”
“All right, sweetie. Keep me updated on your travels please?”
“I will. I love you.”
“I love you too.” Her voice is a hug that I could desperately use as I end the call and hastily finish getting ready.
I throw my hair up into a ponytail, change into my Nighthawks sweat set, and go through a mental checklist to make sure I have everything ready to go. Kyle begrudgingly walks me to the door, staring down my suitcase along the way.
Crouching down once more, I cup his face and pet that super-soft spot on his muzzle that all dog owners know about before placing a gentle kiss on his nose. “I love you, buddy. I’ll be back soon.”
If he could talk, I know he’d say it back. It’s us against the world—has been since the day we met—and it always will be because we made a secret pact that he’ll live forever so it’ll be fine. The sliver, tiniest thought of how short his lifespan is, has my chest already aching, but I push it away, having absolutely no time for that cry session right now.
Standing to my feet, I head out and lock the door behind me, wishing I could just bring him along. But he’s never been on a plane, and that sounds so damn stressful for my boy, who is all I can think of as I head down in the elevator and flag a taxi down out front. Thankfully, this building is a hotspot for taxis, so I never struggle to get a ride.
The driver helps me with my bag before driving like a madman through traffic—an urgency I can appreciate. We makeit there in about forty minutes, which isn’t horrible for New York City traffic this time of day.
I’ve got to be one of the first people to arrive at the jet, aside from the other coaches and a few straggling players, none of whom are Matt. I find my seat next to where Andy will be sitting and get distracted on my phone while waiting for everyone else to show up.
Don’t open it, Shay. Don’t go in there.
Ope, too late.
My thumb disobeyed my thoughts and immediately opened Instagram, and now it’s not my choice whether to close it or not. I’m stuck here. That’s how it feels anyway.
Scrolling through my page, I skip over almost all the content whether it’s about hockey, influencers, brands, artists, whatever, until I come across a video of a little duckling running through grass. Someone’s filming it at an angle that looks like an action movie close up, the strands of grass seemingly as tall as trees. It’s freaking adorable. I like the video and continue through to the end before I give in to the red dot on my message tab.
I have some messages from my old teammates, reels sent from my mom, and it’d be impossible to miss Matt’s name in the third row. Speaking of my teammates though, I haven’t seen a single text come through in the group chat for days now. What the hell?
Swiping out of the app, I check my texts to see if maybe I put it on Do Not Disturb and didn’t notice it or something. But that’s not it because notifications are turned on. I could’ve been kicked out from the group, I guess, but I feel like one of them would’ve let me know.
I quickly type out a message in the group and send it.
Anybody out there?
I try to ignore the pit growing in my stomach for possibly being unwanted. But the feeling is quickly squashed by Britt’s reply.
Britt: Hi hottie! We’re here! We just didn’t want to bombard you with messages since you’re such a busy, HOT coach ;)
Hallie: You’re doing so amazing! We’re so proud of you!
Shannon: Love you Roons!
I love you guys!
