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“Then how the fuck does it work?” I growl, but there’s no heat to it.
“You put in the mileage. You do the work.”
“I’m trying, but she won’t answer.”
“Then go to her.”
“What? Just leave the team so I can hunt her down in Vermont or Connecticut or wherever the hell she is?”
“She’s somewhere,” he says, squeezing my shoulder. “You find out, and you figure out what she wants from you, and you do it.”
“I don’t know what she wants. I just need to see her. I need to talk to her. I need to explain—”
“She doesn’t want you to explain,” he says, picking up his bag and hoisting it over his shoulder. “They never want an explanation.”
“But she deserves it.”
“No, she deserves an apology.”
“I’ve tried.”
“Do not try. Do.”
“Thanks, Yoda,” I say, grabbing my bag and tightening the ties on my hood.
“When the Knitty Kitty burned, Lule called me and I ran to her. I was there when it was still burning, and I held on to her until the fire was gone. I stood next to her while she talked to the police, and I sat with her while she called insurance agents. Then I bought fans and air purifiers and moved her yarn like it was my own balls. I got take-out and watched those housewives from Atlanta with her for four fucking hours.”
“Atlanta?”
“Yeah, those bitches arereal.”
I snort and shake my head. “She’s not letting me in.”
“She will. She’s hurting.”
“How do you know?”
“Because she’s not letting you in.”
I sigh and shake my head. “What if she never lets me in?”
“Then she never lets you in.”
“This is not reassuring.”
“So do something. Make it right. Give her time. But not too much. Go to her when she says you can. Give her what she needs. Nothing less.”
“I don’t know what she needs.”
“Then figure it out.”
I wipe my hand down my face. I don’t know what she needs from me. That’s always been the problem. I don’t have much to offer a girl like her. She has so much going for her, and I’m only who I am: a college dropout and hockey goon. So what is it that I can do for her that sheneeds?
“You need her. She needs you. You just need to show her.” He pats me on the back and takes a step back. “You’ll figure it out.”
“Wait, you’re getting married?” I ask, remembering what he only just said.
“Wanna be my best man?” His eyes dart down to me, his face plain and he looks almost nervous.
