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Dad got back to me about the Bruisers’ contract with one word:WOW. He went on to say it was a better offer on every level.
But he said if I really wanted to go to Montreal I could use the Bruisers’ offer to nudge the Voyageurs’ higher. That seemed like a level of negotiation I was not comfortable with. But how could I take a lesser deal just to give Dillon what he wanted?
I couldn’t.
I needed to tell him.
I hadn’t been sleeping well. Eating wasn’t much fun. I almost caved and paid for Netflix just so I could rewatch the documentary we’d watched together, but then realized how pathetic that sounded. Like watching a documentary might bring him back.
The worst part of all of it was, he seemed totally fine. Just skating away, laughing with Skalsberg like he didn’t have a care in the world.
Didn’t he miss me?
We’d only been together a handful of days total, was it stupid to think I’d made any kind of permanent impact on him?
I needed to let his indifference fuel my ability to get over him. Put him behind me and move on. Except taking this job meant staying put.
You have to tell him.
I was going to. Every day after practice, I planned it, but then I turned chicken and ran.
“Intimidated by the big stage?” Ron came up behind me from the stands as I stared out over the ice, lost in my thoughts.
I jumped, because I hadn’t heard him come up. And because it wasn’t common for us to talk. He’d made it clear over these last several weeks he was not a fan.
I didn’t really know how to respond.
“It’s just ice, like any other ice. Come get your feet cold,” he said, with a smile. Then he took off his blade guards and headed out onto the ice.
Had the coach told him to be civil to me in an effort to get me to sign the contract? That seemed the most likely answer. I didn’t believe Ron suddenly had a change of heart about me all on his own.
Whatever. I removed my own blade guards and stepped onto the ice.
It was a casual practice today. There was also a group of kids from a local school sitting in the stands, excited to see their heroes goofing around. Today the players were just getting used to the sounds and size of the arena.
Sweet O’Rourke looked just as wide-eyed as the kids.
The first preseason game was tomorrow night at seven.
I took to the ice and dug my blades in, feeling them catch and bite and propel me forward. This feeling never got old. Pure freedom. Like if I could just go fast enough, my blades would leave the ice and I would be flying.
Soaring.
The guys circled the ice. Everyone looked easy and loose ahead of the first game. They were waving up at the kids who were losing their minds. I thought about sharing the ice with these monsters of men, proud of how I’d been able to improve almost all of them. At this level of athleticism, the only improvements that could be made were going to be incremental. But everything counted.
“Hey, Coach,” Cody skated by me with a wave.
I gave him a chin nod, then I caught Dillon out of the corner of my eyes. The big oaf took to the ice like he’d been born to skate.
Maybe Dillon wouldn’t care anymore if I took the Bruisers’ job. Maybe these days apart had shown him he wasn’t as into me as he’d thought. And if he didn’t care about me, then I couldn’t be a distraction for him.
Great, that only made me feel shittier.
It felt like there was no good answer in this for me.
Our eyes locked across the ice, the way they did when we met in Calico Cove. Everyone on the ice disappeared and it was just him standing there. So big and solid and real.
His dimple flashed when he gave me a tiny half smile, but then he turned and skated away like I wasn’t there.
