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“Oh no,”Billy said, even as I plopped down on the couch next to him. “You are not watching this game.”
I kicked my feet up on the brand new ottoman in front of the brand new – and very comfortable - couch, and grabbed a handful of the popcorn from the brand new popcorn bowl in my brother’s lap.
“I can watch a stupid hockey game, Billy.”
“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Bill?” He pulled the popcorn bowl out of reach.
“A million and it won’t be enough,” I said.
“Mom, she’s doing it again!” Billy shouted over his shoulder towards the kitchen, where my mother was filling my freezer with food. She’d been a casserole queen while Dad, Billy and I bought and put together an entire furniture store in my brand new Montreal apartment. “She’s being morbid as fuck and now she wants to watch him play hockey.”
Mom popped into the living room, a dish rag in her hands and a frown on her face. “Billy, language please. Olivia, do you really think this is a good idea?”
My mother only ever called me Olivia when she thought I was being stubborn or stupid. I’d been getting a whole lot of Olivia the last few weeks. They didn’t love me going to Montreal. They were scared that the team would treat me like the Bruisers had. They were worried I didn’t speak French and there was that hassle with the visa.
It was endless and I loved my family very much, but it was time for them to go. Really.
Dad, without me knowing, had negotiated a few of the Bruisers’ offerings into my contract with Montreal and they signed it without a fuss. So, I had a new car. A sleek hybrid SUV that looked nothing like Tonya. In honor of my new Canadian home, I was naming her after legendary speed skater and cyclist, Clara Hughes.
“It’s just a game, Mom. It’s not going to kill me. I mean, I was an assistant coach for the team. I had a hand in improving the play for some of those players.”
“What’s not going to kill you?” my dad asked, stepping into the living room from the guest bedroom where Mom and Dad had been sleeping. Billy slept on the couch. Did I mention I was ready for them to leave?
“Liv wants to brood over her ex-boyfriend,” Billy said to my dad.
“I’m not brooding. I’m just watching. He’s not my ex-boyfriend. He’s not my ex-anything.”
Then why does it hurt so much?
“Hmm,” Dad said, joining us on the giant couch. There was still room for mom if she ever stopped cooking. “Then you’ll be okay with us changing the channel.”
“Change it and die, Old Man.” I gave him my scary scowl and my father laughed.
Dad reached for the popcorn and I was sandwiched between them. It felt good. It felt safe. But it didn’t feel as right as it did when Dillon was holding me. Or when he tucked my thigh over his so we would fit better together.
I hated that. I hated that he’d ruined me like that.
“Fine, we’ll just sit here and watch a hockey game. What’s the harm in that?”
“Exactly,” I muttered.
The commercial break was over and the teams were stepping onto the ice. My heart froze at the sight of those guys; O’Rourke and Novek. Skalsberg, looking terrifying. Smith in his custom stars and stripes goalie mask.
“Hmm. Oh, look. There he is. Your Mr. Heart.”
“Dad!” Both Billy and I groaned at the same time. I knew he was putting me on with the whole heart thing, but still it was annoying.
“I feel sorry for him,” my dad said as the camera switched to the commentators.
“Because he blew it with me? I don’t think he cares, Dad. He’s doing what he loves, remember?”
“No, I feel sorry for him because he doesn’t understand how life works yet. He reminds me of you actually. Back when you were competing. Only winning mattered. You didn’t have the whole picture back then.”
I didn’t know what to say to that because he was right. My focus was so narrow that skating was my whole life. And honestly, there was a certain easiness to it back then. Only one thing mattered and so I didn’t have to let in anything else.
But that all changed when I fell.
I thought my world was ending, but it was only changing.
