Page 23 of Playing for Keeps

The waiter appeared then, the same one who’d watched me suffer through Melissa’s cats and Jill’s Instagram empire. His expression flicked to me and back again in a heartbeat. I swear I saw the tiniest hint of surprise.

He poured Zoe another glass of wine and leaned in just enough for me to catch it: “Better so far?”

I nodded very slightly.

“Dinner’s on the way,” he said, in a neutral tone, and vanished again.

Dinner arrived and for the first time in weeks I wasn’t bracing myself. Zoe told me about the bizarre requests she got at the library: a man who wanted to borrow a chainsaw and a student who didn’t understand why the books weren’t alphabetized by colour. I laughed so hard that my side hurt. And in exchange, I told her about a rookie who’d laced up the wrong skates during practice and didn’t notice until he fell flat on his face.

This was what it was supposed to feel like: effortless, fun.

By the time it was time for dessert, I was ready to call Grace and thank her for once.

And then Zoe tilted her head, studying me with a kind of serious concern that set off alarm bells. “You know,” she said, putting her fork down, “your inner child seems… blocked.”

I blinked. “My what now?”

“Your inner child. Everyone has one. It’s the most real part of us, the part that needs nurturing. And yours seems to be carrying unresolved trauma.”

I froze, fork halfway to my mouth. “Uh.”

She leaned forward, looking very serious. “I can feel it in your aura. It’s very tight and very constricted. You really need to unblock it. Have you ever tried a meditation retreat?”

I put my fork down slowly. “Not lately.”

“You should. They’re amazing. You go into the forest, no phones, no distractions, just you and your breath. I did one last spring, and it completely opened my root chakra. It was life-changing.”

“Right.”

The waiter walked by and noticed my face. His eyebrows went up a little, and the corner of his mouth twitched before he smoothed it out and looked professional.

Zoe didn’t catch it. She was scrolling on her phone, pulling something up. “Look, here’s a picture of me during my retreat. You can really see how aligned my aura is. And you, Finn, I can help you align yours.”

“Can you now.”

“Yes. Your energy field is… oh, what’s the word… murky. It’s probably because hockey is so aggressive. Blocking shots, slamming into people. You’ve put up walls. And until you tear them down, your inner child will never heal.”

The waiter arrived with dessert, tiramisu again.

Zoe smiled at him brightly. “Thank you! Oh, you should totally do a retreat too. Your aura looks very… grey.”

The waiter blinked. “That’s probably just the uniform.”

Zoe laughed, missing the edge in his tone. “You’re funny! But no, really, you should try yoga. It would change your life.”

“Noted,” he said flatly, and walked away.

I stabbed my dessert like it had personally wronged me.

We finally left the restaurant and stepped into the chill of an October night.

“Well,” Zoe said cheerfully, wrapping her scarf around her neck, “this was nice. I’ll send you some links to retreats. You’ll thank me later.”

“Yeah,” I said, putting my hands in my pockets. “Great dinner. Thanks.”

We walked in opposite directions, and I got into my truck with a sigh so heavy it almost fogged up the windshield.

Brutal. Again.