Page 107 of The Goalie in Room 1

He didn’t ask again. Just waited. The fucking man had this uncanny knack of knowing how to get someone to spill their guts. At least with me anyway.

“Thad wasn’t there today,” I finally said.

“Was he supposed to be?” he asked.

I shrugged.

“Did you expect him to be?”

Eyes downcast, I ran my finger around the rim of the mug as I said, “No.”

The lie sat between us. The silence stretched.

Again with the waiting.

“Maybe.” I wrapped both hands around the mug. “A few months ago, I couldn’t take a piss without him hovering outside the door. Now it’s like he’s no where to be seen. And today my knee pulls this shit, and I didn’t even know if he was at the clinic or the hospital.”

“Did you tell him?”

“Matteo said it’s probably nothing.”

“That wasn’t what I asked.”

“Everyone’s real fucking interested in what I’m not answering today.”

Phoenix leaned back. “Then answer.”

Heat crawled up my neck. “What am I supposed to say? Come home earlier because I miss you? Skip surgery because I’m scared? He has an actual job. I knew that. I’m sitting here recovering because the man offered to help me.”

“Knowing why someone is gone doesn’t stop you from missing them.”

“It should.”

“Why?”

Because wanting someone to be there only gave the world one more thing to torture you with.

I stared into my coffee.

Phoenix’s voice softened. “Does Thad know you feel pushed aside?”

“He’d have to be around long enough for me to tell him.”

Phoenix nodded toward the phone beside my mug. “You know that thing works both ways.”

“I’m not telling him this in a text.”

“Then tell him you need to talk.”

“And what? Make him spend the rest of the day wondering if my knee exploded while he’s operating on someone?”

“You’ve got an answer for everything.”

“Usually.”

“Except whether you’ve given Thad any chance to fix this.”

My phone vibrated against the table before I could answer.