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Since I helped her organize her garage day before yesterday, I feel an even stronger pull toward her. I know it has everything to do with the fact that she broke through a barrier that I’ve not allowed a single person past since the plane crash. I shared with her about my nightmares, and it doesn’t count that I divulged that to Coach West. That was done under duress and fear I’d lose my job.
But Danica somehow presented a safe environment for me in that small stone garage with a broken concrete floor. Within the confines of that space, she learned that I’m still struggling to accept the crash and that my background plays into it. I told her enough about my family dynamics that she’s aware that I’m not someone who puts my feelings out there. She knew exactly when to back off so that I never felt cornered or overwhelmed.
Consequently, I’m like the curious, starved dog. I want to sniff and nudge at her hand to see what other treats she might have, but I’m a bit too skittish to go all in.
“That was nice of Danica to come.” I turn to see Bain with another beer in hand for me. I accept it with a nod of thanks. “I assume you invited her.”
“Yeah. Figured she’d enjoy being around the team again.”
Bain knows I’ve had a few interactions with her since I was ordered to attend the support group. He knows I played on the same line as Mitch, and I even told him I feel a little guilty for not having done more for her until now.
“I talked to her a bit ago. She sure is singing your praises.”
My gaze cuts over to Danica sitting at a table with Tillie while Coen plays pool. Whatever they’re talking about has Danica laughing hard.
I don’t let a single facial muscle move in response to Bain’s words, denying that it feels a little too good to have her appreciation. It means that what I’m doing for her means something to her personally, and for whatever reason, helping Danica seems to be a balm to my tortured thoughts about the crash. I manage to keep my tone neutral. “She’s done an amazing job of rebuilding her life after Mitch died. I admire her a lot.”
“I also notice you haven’t hung out with her at all tonight,” Bain muses.
I turn my gaze lazily to him as if the question doesn’t bother me. “Why would I? It’s not like this is a date or anything.”
Bain’s mouth curves upward, his expression knowing. “Never said it was. But it does seem like you’re avoiding her.”
“I’m not avoiding,” I grouse. “She’s been busy talking to other people and I didn’t want to interrupt.”
“If you say so,” Bain says blandly before nodding at an empty pool table. “Want to play again?”
No, I don’t. I want to talk to Danica and I realize I’ve been keeping my distance because I didn’t want anyone to think poorly of me. I didn’t want anyone to think I invited her for any reason other than friendship.
I’ve got enough beer in me now to remind myself that I am indeed nothing but her friend and it’s totally permissible for me to hang out with her. “I’m going to pass,” I tell Bain, walking away without a backward glance.
When I reach the table where Danica’s sitting, I have to convince myself it’s only my imagination that her eyes light up. I plop down in the adjacent chair and Tillie immediately rises. “I’m going to the bathroom and getting another drink. Want one?” she asks Danica.
“Sure, thanks.”
Tillie then looks at me. “It’s my turn to buy one for the birthday boy.”
Even though I have a full one in hand, I wink at her in acceptance. I’ve got a nice buzz going and don’t want to lose it. Especially now that I’m committed to hanging out with Danica a bit.
“Having fun?” I ask.
“Yeah… thank you for inviting me. It kind of feels like old times.”
That pleases me to hear because more than anything, I knew she’d appreciate the familial camaraderie that’s inherent within the team dynamic. “I’m glad you came. What did you do with the little man tonight?”
“He’s staying the night at a friend’s house. They’re in youth hockey together and they have practice tomorrow. I’ll pick him up from there.”
“And how’s that going? He finished his first week of practice, right?”
Danica’s face clouds with uncertainty and she lifts a shoulder. “I don’t know. He hasn’t done organized sports before so I’m not sure what’s reasonable.”
“Did something happen?”
“No,” she insists and offers a small smile. “Not at all. It’s just… the coach is a little intense. Travis is used to his dad playing with him one-on-one and it being fun. Even when you did drills with him, it was pretty lighthearted. But now he feels the pressure to perform and it’s mostly from the coach. I watched one of the practices, and he’s pretty tough on the boys. Some of the parents like that, though, so I don’t know if I’m being too overprotective.”
“It runs the gamut when it comes to coaching styles. But the one thing I know, it’s not a one size fits all. Some people are motivated by a highly pressurized environment while it can cripple others. A good coach knows how to tailor his style to fit all.”
Danica nods. “I offered to talk to the coach and Travis was mortified. I’ve been forbidden.”
