Page 61 of Josh’s Play

“You have his number, don’t you?”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I would just be a distraction for him.” Much as I thought Diane might have suspected some of what was going on between us, it wasn’t my place to out Campbell, so I trod lightly.

“We were just project partners.” She glared at me.

“Okay, we became friends.” She glared again but let it slide as I glared back. “I know how important the NHL is to him, and if there’s anything I could do to help …”

“The NHL isn’t the only important thing.”

“Trust me. To him it is.”

We were dancing around the truth, and Diane continued in that vein.

“Well, then, if the NHL is all that matters, and he’s crapping the bed, maybe think about what changed after that stellar game he had,” she said softly.

“So much has changed, Diane. The scout came, and …”

“And …”

“And his future is almost set. He’s this close.” My fingers measured in centimeters how close I thought Cam was to living his dream. “I don’t understand. I got out of his way precisely so this wouldn’t happen!”

“And it happened anyway,” Diane said patiently as she put a sympathetic hand on my knee.

“I’ll talk to Cam, Josh. But please think about, maybe, reaching out to him yourself.”

I did think about it. Sometimes it felt like all I thought about. But I stopped myself every time. I couldn’t compromise Campbell’s future. I wouldn’t.

That’s why I was both surprised and thrilled when Cam reached out to me instead, and more than a little confused when he invited me to an event that I knew had ended the day before.

Chapter Sixteen

Campbell

The holidays were over, and the semester had begun. I’d had a quiet holiday at home, except for all the times one or both of my parents cornered me to talk about my future.

“Son, if it’s too much stress …”

“Dad, you’re the one who said that when I’m playing hockey, it’s the opposite of stressful.”

“Is that still true, kiddo?”

“It was just a few bad games, Dad. I’ll work through it.”

“Then what’s really going on?” When had Mom come in from outside?

I had shared a little with my dad over the Thanksgiving holiday about having met someone but had tried to play it down as just a first crush, someone I barely had anything in common with, someone who definitely wouldn’t want to be with me.

Dad looked from me to Mom, and I knew without a doubt that he’d talked to her about it. They had a whole silent conversation over my head before Mom came and sat at the foot of the big kitchen table, putting me between the two of them.

Her cheeks were rosy from her time outside on the frigid winter day. I climbed out of my seat to try and escape the laser-beam cage their eyes were surrounding me in, but I knew there was no escape from the conversation. I poured a cup of coffee for Mom and refilled Dad’s before sitting back down, intentionally ensnaring myself.

I tugged a hand through my hair, and Mom caught it on the way back down, squeezing it tight.

“My sweet boy. Always when you’re stressed. If you don’t want to play hockey …”