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“Plus we’ve got an empty-nest thing going on at home.”
“Sorry to hear it.”
“Eh, it’s no big deal,” he said, waving his hand.
We grew silent, watching the hockey highlights from the night. I yawned. It’d been a long day and I was ready to call it a night, but Johnny spoke up just before I could retire.
“Can I ask you something, Rust?”
“Of course, fella.”
“You and Laura—”
My jaw clenched. My ex-wife’s name didn’t exactly bring back happy memories. “What about her?”
“How’d you know it was over?”
I leaned back. “Why would you want to know that?”
“Because fuck, man. We’re best friends and you never told me,” he said, sipping his whiskey.
“She had an affair. You know that.”
“Yeah, but you never told me how you found out. And it all happened so fast—you found out, you asked for a trade, boom, a few days later, you were sent to Winnipeg. It’s been five years, Rust. When are you going to tell me the real story of what went down?”
I didn’t say a word. I just folded my arms and sat, stewing in silence.
“Could you sense it? Did you have a feeling in the back of your mind there was somebody else?”
I hated thinking about that time in my life.
But…
I guess it’d been long enough I could talk about it without the stabbing pain in my heart.
“Honestly, I didn’t have the slightest clue,” I said, beginning the story with a sigh. “Until the proof was shoved in my face.”
Johnny raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“We were on a road trip the night it happened. In Florida, playing the Cats. The game was a track meet: no defense played on either side and tons of goals. We ended up going to overtime tied 6–6, or 7–7, something like that. All those goals, yet somehow I went the whole game without scoring a point—until overtime, when I got the game-winner.”
“Big fella!” Johnny cheered, pounding my shoulder as if I’d scored that goal just now, not five years ago. “I think I remember that goal! Big slapper from the point, top-titty, right?”
“That’s the one.” I chuckled. “So me and the boys, we’re all happy and celebrating as we get back to the locker room. I got out my cell phone, because after a goal like that, you’re going to have calls and texts from friends all over, reaching out—”
“Sure, sure,” Johnny said, not needing me to explain.
“I was on cloud nine, you know, texting back and joking with my buddies. Pretty sure you texted me, too,” I said, slapping his back.
“You bet your ass I did. You know I watch every game you play.”
“Thanks.” I cracked a grin. “Anyway, then I noticed a text from a number I didn’t recognize.”
“What’d it say?”
I tried to quote the text message from memory. It went something like this:“Hey man. From one bro to another, I’m sorry. But if I were in your shoes, I’d want to know, too.”
“The fuck? What’s that mean?”
