Page 25 of The Has-Been

I watch from the bench as Reid runs drills, working on his shot and stick work. It’s been a whole season since I’ve seen him play. During my year away, I’ve looked at stats occasionally, but never found the strength to turn on the game, let alone come to one.

Reid, despite being drafted first overall at only eighteen, seems adamant on graduating before signing his contract with Detroit. We’ve had endless arguments about it. But whenever Brennan and I—or even Coach Bowen—bring it up, he gets in a shitty mood. It’s safe to say he’s more than ready after watching him play today, so I can’t help but wonder what’s holding him back. Unless it’s something other than hockey…Maybe it’s whoever has him smiling like a fucking idiot nowadays that’s got him so firm on waiting.

Reid skates up as I’m lost in my thoughts.

“I see you finally made it inside.”

I flip him off, but I can’t help but be appreciative of his tough love for dragging me here.

Deep down, I knew I needed to get back on the ice before next week. Before I’m out here on my own for clinicals. And let’s face it, I was never going to do it without his insistent nagging. So I suppose it’s for the best.

“Thanks,” I admit as he takes a long drag of water. “You were right—sometimes you just have to take the hit and get it over with.”

He nods. “Sure, you don’t want to take a few shots? I promise I won’t laugh at your rusty form,” he jokes, but I shake my head.

One step at a time. One day, I might skate again. But not today.

I know I shouldn’t bring it up, but I can’t help it, “Why won’t you sign that contract and get the fuck outta here before it’s too late?” I grill, giving him a pointed look.

He shakes his head a few times, “I’ll sign after graduation—before my contract’s deadline.”

I bite back the words thick on my tongue: Unless your career ends before then. One torn ACL, one broken leg, one bad play, and it’s all fucking over. Then you’re the washed-up loser everyone pities. Spending the rest of your life punching a time clock, rubbing ICYHOT into an athlete’s sore muscles, but never able to dull the pain that’ll never be you out there again.

Or…so I want to fucking scream at him.

I shake my head; those are my problems, not his.

“Does it have anything to do with whoever has you smiling all the time now?” I push. “I mean, I know I’ve been gone for a year…but it seems like the Reid I remember spent a lot more time drunkenly picking up chicks and starting ignorant fights than grinning at a phone screen.” I angle my head at him.

My heart aches a bit. Reid does seem different than when I left. Or maybe it’s just in my head.

Change...is inevitable, after all. Just because I want nothing more than to go back in time doesn’t mean everyone else isn’t content with moving forward.

He pulls his sweatshirt over his mouth, wiping the sweat from his face as he tries to catch his breath. Reid shrugs, taking a deep breath. “It’s…it’s not what you think.” But he won’t meet my eyes.

Lying son of a bitch. And to his best friend of all people. But fine, I’ll let him keep his secrets.

I can’t help but grin, a chuckle blooming in my chest as I throw my head back in laughter.

“What?” He mumbles, throwing a towel in my direction.

“Nothing.” I snort. “Enjoy living in delusionville.”

“That’s not even a fucking word.” He waves me off.

“Okay, so let’s pretend it’s not—” I point to his pocket, where his hand is already reaching to check his phone. “Whoever is on the other end of that phone…keeping you from signing⁠—”

He shakes a finger at me. “I’d never let a woman stand between me and going pro—you know that.”

I give him a stern glance, like I’m warning him not to lie to me, but he reaches behind him, scratching his back. “It’s—” he blows out a deep breath. “—it’s just a promise I made.”

My smile quickly fades. I sit up straighter, my leg twitching as I quickly try to determine if I should ask him more. Reid never talks about his personal life, and thankfully, before I have to make a choice to press him for an explanation or leave him be, he adds, “You know I didn’t have much growing up—I want something reliable, to fall back on if things don’t work out with hockey.”

Right.

He doesn’t want to end up as a washed-up hockey star with a dead-end future.

He doesn’t want to end up like…me.