Page 139 of The Tryout

I know I should be excited – thrilled, even – but I can’t bring myself to feel it. I let out a sigh instead.

“Wow, kid. Probably the worst reaction I’ve ever had from someone finding out they’re gonna be making five figures a game for the foreseeable future.”

I shake my head, reminding myself of how fortunate I am to have this.

“No, you’re right. It’s great news. Thanks, Jack.”

“Now, wait a minute before you thank me. You know how you guys have a back-to-back coming up against Toronto?”

Ugh. Don’t remind me.

It was bad enough to have to play games one night after another, but every team had to do it a couple of times a month. But the Huskies had had an early-season home game against Toronto snowed out in a freak Halloween blizzard, so they were playing the team twice on the road next week instead.

“Yeah. It’ll be rough.”

Honestly, it wouldn’t be that bad. Toronto had been struggling to put together much of anything on the ice this year, and their starting goalie had just gone on injured reserve with a groin pull.

“Well, it’ll have to be rough without you. They’re gonna scratch you for a couple of games so you can take a trip back to Iowa.”

I push off the wall, standing up straight.

“They’re what?”

I can hear him laugh under his breath.

“You’re welcome. I reminded them that you’d come up with a single suitcase and were still living in Tremblay’s guest room. They’re gonna give you some time to get settled in. With pay, of course.”

Of course. Jack was meticulous about making sure we both got paid.

“So I can…go home? For a couple nights?”

“Two nights, and you’d better be ready for Chicago after that, okay? Especially since everyone else is gonna be fucking exhausted.”

“Yes, absolutely. Of course.”

“And kid?”

His voice sounds unusually hesitant.

“Yeah?”

“It’s probably time you stop thinking of Des Moines as home.”

It’s strange to be back.

Or, not really back – I’m not allowed to play for fear of getting injured. Instead, I’m dressed in a game day suit, ready to be paraded in front of the press as a sign of the Pack’s excellent development program, then seated in a front-row seat on the club level.

I’d hoped to sit in the friends and family section instead, wearing a Lawson jersey and screaming my head off. Instead, I spend the evening shaking hands with various sponsors and longstanding season ticket holders, bullshitting about Minnesota’s chances this year.

My flight didn’t land until four, so by the time I got to the apartment, Avery had already headed to the arena. As I wheeled my suitcase into the apartment, I’d realized how much I’d come to associate the place with Avery – the couch, the blanket, his big bed with the soft sheets. It was hard to believe I’d lived here a year without him; these days, I was finding it hard to be anywhere without him.

Tomorrow, he and I will spend his day off packing up more of my things, taking away even more of myself from this place. Some of it we’ll shove into suitcases to come with me; the rest, he’s planning to bring up in his car in a couple of weeks during the All Star game.

Jack has advised that it’s safe for me to rent a place in Minneapolis, at least through the end of the season. But somehow, I can’t quite bring myself to stop thinking of our apartment here as home.

The game goes well enough – between my tie and the wealthy men eager to chat with me, I spend the last two periods feeling like I’m choking, not quite able to breathe fully. As the final buzzer sounds the end of the game, I’m eager to have an excuse to head out.

In the locker room, things are as usual, although I’m by far the most clothed person here. Novak, standing in a pair of white briefs, comes over to give me a hug, and when Avery catches sight of me, a smile breaks across his face. He rushes over to me, still half-dressed in his base layer from the game.