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I’m not surprised when I don’t see her. Why would she come? I was an asshole to her yesterday when I ignored her hint at makeup sex. I was so stuck in my own thoughts.
It takes all my focus to listen to Coach Maddox and keep my head in the game when we return to the ice. I get a lucky opening and score in the third period, and I make sure I smile at the fans who chirped at me when I was in the penalty box.
We win the game and the mood is light in the locker room after, guys laughing and joking. I’m happy about the win, but still feeling unsettled. We’re flying to Vancouver tonight, where I’ll live this day all over again, hopefully with another win. I don’t want to wait another day without letting Mila know how I feel, though. There’s no privacy for anything but a text, but a text is better than letting her think I’m angry or don’t care.
As soon as I’m able to, I get my phone out to send a text. I see several unread texts she sent me during the game.
Mila: I have good news. Divorce papers are being drawn up for us to discuss when you get back. You mean a lot to me and I’ll never be able to thank you for everything you’ve done.
Mila: Austin McGill is all dick and no balls. Nice hit on him.
Mila: Great game!
I stare at my phone screen, feeling numb. She’s so done with my shit that she’s willing to risk deportation rather than stay married to me. I’m walking proof that sometimes people who look like they have it all actually don’t have anything that really matters.
Divorce. That was always the end goal, so why does it feel so fucking wrong?
I shower quickly, finishing before everyone else and putting on some boxers. Then I take my phone into the bathroom, make sure it’s empty, and stand in front of a wall that will allow me to see anyone who walks in.
Mila sounds surprised when she answers my call. “Hey, everything okay?”
No. Everything is fucked. But I don’t have time for a long conversation.
“That text you sent me about the papers…is it because of yesterday?”
A pause, and then, “No, not at all. It’s because that favor I’ve been trying to get came through.”
My heart hammers as I consider my next words. It’s so fucking hard to open myself up and risk getting shot down, and it’s harder when we have to talk in code just in case anyone is listening.
“I don’t want it,” I say, putting the truth out there. “The thing with the papers. Would you consider not doing it?”
She inhales sharply, silent for a few seconds. “I…yes, I’d consider it, but we need to talk about it when you get back. I never want you to feel…trapped, I guess.”
“I don’t.”
Ben walks into the bathroom, still not dressed after showering.
“Hey, you’ve got to get out,” I tell him.
He furrows his brow, confused. “I have to take a shit, man.”
“I need five minutes. It’s important. Stand at the door of the bathroom and don’t let anyone in.”
Though he gives me an aggravated look, he says, “Fine. Five minutes.”
“What was that?” Mila asks.
“I took over the bathroom so I can talk to you without everyone listening.”
“You sound stressed.”
I scoff. “Yeah, you think? After the way we left things yesterday and your text, I’m going out of my mind here.”
“Do I make you happy?” she asks, a sad note in her voice. “Because I feel like I just stress you out and make you mad.”
My shoulders slump and I exhale hard. “That’s on me, not you. I want to do better. Be better. But only if you want it, too.”
“Of course I do.” Her voice breaks. “I’ve shared more of myself with you than I ever have with anyone, because of my feelings for you.”
Hope flickers to life inside me. “What feelings?”
She hums with amusement. “Depends on the day. Lust, frustration, elation, disgust, sadness…love.”
She says the last word softly, like she’s afraid of exposing herself. The hope inside me is a full-fledged fire now, blazing with possibility.
“Love?” I ask.
“Harrison, what the fuck?” someone yells into the bathroom. “I have to piss!”
I scowl as I say, “Hang on,” into the phone and then cover the mouthpiece with my hand.
“Piss in the shower, fuckface! I’m on an important call!”
“I’m gonna piss in your locker.”
I ignore the voice that sounds like Sal’s and return to my call with Mila. “Sorry about that. You were saying?”
“You know what I said.” There’s a smile in her voice. “I don’t think there’s a single emotion I haven’t felt with you.”
“Same here. But why disgust?”
“You splash pee on the bathroom floor. It’s gross.”
“I can work on that. I’ll get a funnel or something.”
