Page 70 of Off the Trail

“Well, then.” I slide into a parking spot. It’s six on a Friday and it’s packed, but we’re lucky we only have to wait a few minutes for a table. We agree to split a loaded pizza, and Nolan orders a pitcher of local pale ale.

“What?” he says when I make a questioning sound. “I’m not on duty.”

“Good thing I’m driving,” I say. My phone buzzes and I glance at it quickly, then more carefully. It’s a text from Shawn. I’ve never gotten a text from him before. It feels like a strange sort of relationship milestone. All it says is, “Landed in Hartford.” And I can take a full breath for the first time since I hung up the phone in my office.

“Shawn made it to Hartford.”

Nolan grunts in reply.

“Do you have an issue with him?”

“No. I just think⁠—”

“What?”

The beer arrives, and he pours himself a glass to the brim, then drinks down half of it. “I think,” he says again, “you should be careful getting involved with a guest. But it’s your life.”

I’m shocked he has an opinion about this at all. “Yeah, it is.” I take a sip of my own smaller pour. “It’s not like I make a habit out of it,” I say, feeling an odd need to defend myself. I’ve been at the retreat for years longer than Nolan. Maybe he thinks I pick someone up every other season.

“While you’re taking care of the guests, who’s taking care of you?” Nolan asks. His glass is empty, and the beer must have gone to his head because he’s never said anything like that to me before.

I don’t know what to say. I’d argue that Brooke does, but she’s got her own life now. Marika does, but she’s not actually my mom. My few friends—I’m the papa bear of the group.

Shawn takes care of me, but if he doesn’t come back⁠—

“I’m okay,” I insist.

“Sure you are.”

The pizza comes, and I take a bite, then talk with my mouth full. “You know, you’re not as much of an asshole as I thought you were.”

“Yes, I am,” he says without missing a beat.

“Well, you’re the nicest asshole I know.”

To that, he lifts his slice and says, “Cheers.”

Chapter 30

Shawn

It’s weird being back in a city. It smells so different from the fresh-pine-needle-mulch-lake-algae air I’ve gotten used to over the last few weeks. It’s also too bright, artificial light glaring off the sides of buildings, car headlights piercing my eyes. And noisy—even inside the luxury town car that picked me up at the airport it’s loud, sirens and honking and the hum of the traffic as we get closer to the stadium grating against my ears.

I get dropped at the visitor entrance, waved through after being given a temporary pass. I used to have my own official ID that gave me free rein of this place. I know the way to the locker room by heart, but even though my legs know the way, they don’t seem to want to go very fast. This place is completely familiar, and totally different.

Maybe it’s me who’s changed.

I see friendly faces, ones that throw me sincere smiles, slaps on the back, “good to see you” on everyone’s lips. It’s nice to greet these people, but bittersweet. I haven’t been a Laurel for months. I’ve forgotten how to be one.

What am I doing here? What am I even going to say?

Then Jett is there in his home uniform, wrapping me in a two-armed hug that’s so enthusiastic he nearly lifts me off my feet. “Shawn, you look great, man. Maine treated you right.”

I smile at my friend. It’s good to see him. “It sure did. I’ll have to tell you about it later.” I wonder what he’ll think of me and Blaze. I suspect he’ll be happy for me.

“And you are a lifesaver for coming. I feel better about this game just having you here rooting for us. It hasn’t been right without you.”

“Missed you, too. I’m not sure what I can do to help, though.”