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“Ican’t believe how excited I am.” I hold up my hands so Corey can see how they’re trembling. “You would think I was the one playing today.”
“It’s cute. You want your team to do well. And they will,” she adds with a solemn nod. “How can they not, with you helping them?”
“Be careful. Don’t have too much faith in my abilities.”
She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “Sometimes, you’re enough to make a saint swear.”
“I’m just saying. It’s one thing for everybody to do better in scrimmage games and feel more confident and all that.” We take our seats in the packed arena, and I rub my hands on the legs of my jeans to wipe away the nervous sweat that coats my palms. “Playing against another team? That’s another story.”
“Are you worried about the guys making up for Ash and Soren not being here?”
I blow out a long, shaky breath. “It’s one thing for a plan to work on paper. Do you know what I mean?”
“Sure.” Still, she gives me one of her bright, hopeful smiles. “Maybe don’t be too hard on yourself if things are a little bumpy today. It’s only the first game.”
She’s right. I need to chill. After I take a deep breath, I scan the bench and find Coach Kozak talking with a couple of the players. I thought he’d be as nervous as I am and expected his anxiety to get worse as the season opener approached. But no, he has clearly adapted the attitude of a Buddhist monk. What’s meant to be will be. I have no idea what led to this new mellow attitude, but whatever it is, I hope he doesn’t lose it anytime soon. I only hope it’s not all because of the work I did to put together new lines to cover for the team’s loss, since I’m still not sure it’ll work out.
My loss, too. It hasn’t been easy, these days without the two of them driving me crazy. It’s weird, not seeing them on the bench. My heart aches a little no matter how hard I try to push the feeling away. This is good for them. For their careers. I can’t be selfish and allow my needs to get in the way of that. We had an amazing weekend together, the four of us. I need to cling to those memories.
Especially since Ryder and I are sort of hands-off at the moment. We have to be. That’s the agreement we all came to when we started this crazy arrangement. I’m either with all of them at once, or none of them. Sure, we can’t avoid each other at work – we even had a session this week, the way I did with several of the other players. He was completely professional the whole time, without so much as a single double entendre or a reference to the time we spent together outside of work.
I’m sure it’s totally wrong, but I almost kind of wished he would try to push the envelope a little. What can I say? I’m lonesome and maybe a little bit horny. I would’ve shot him down, obviously. I don’t want to hurt anybody. But it might’ve been nice to have confirmation that he’s still thinking about me even if we’ve had to put things on pause for now.
My pulse starts racing when the players take the ice, and my eyes are glued to Ryder. What’s he thinking? What’s he feeling? He doesn’t want to admit that it’s a little weird, being one of the team’s best players, but not being asked to go up to the Orcas even for a little while. I’ve made a point not to say anything, since I don’t want to offend him. He has a lot of pride, after all. It might look like an assumption on my part. Knowing him, he’ll be more likely to shut down and retreat inside himself. I don’t want that.
Once the puck drops, there’s too much going on for me to obsess any longer. The arena is packed and I can’t lie, it’s exciting to hear the fans cheering and urging the players on. They’re the element that’s been missing. I can watch all the hours of scrimmage I want – and I have, and then some. But they are the missing piece to the puzzle, the energy that seems to fill the enormous space. I have to imagine the cheering and screaming helps the players, too. They’re working at a higher level than I’ve ever seen them, even during training camp when they were being put through their paces.
And my heart soars when it’s clear, Ryder is taking a leadership position in all of this. When he’s on the bench, he’s bolstering the other players, hyping them up. On the ice, he’s like a ghost or something, gliding almost effortlessly, practically flying. “He’s incredible!” Corey shouts in the middle of the chaos, and I don’t have to ask who she means. Ryder’s the clear standout star today. My heart is so full, it might burst.
Especially when he gets an assist on the first goal. “Yes!” I scream before jumping to my feet along with everybody else around us. “Yes, Ryder!” It’s silly, but I almost want to tell the people seated around us that I know him personally. I’m just so proud, that’s all.
And I’m even prouder when he gets a second assist in the second period. Coach Kozak is beside himself, clapping and shouting, pointing to Ryder as he skates past. “That has to feel good,” Corey observes, clapping. Yes, I’m sure it does. For one crazy second, I wish more than ever that I didn’t have to hide, that we didn’t have to act like there’s nothing between us. If I were his girlfriend, I could throw my arms around him after the game and it wouldn’t matter who was watching. I could kiss him and tell him how proud I am.
All I can do is play the part of the proud but distant therapist.
“He’s really stepped up,” I observe as evenly as I can while my heart soars. “I know the coach is thrilled.”
“Don’t even pretend you have nothing to do with it.”
“Okay, maybe I helped a little. He did sort of have a chip on his shoulder when we first met.”
“Sometimes the people with the chip on their shoulder are the ones who work the hardest, because they have something to prove.” She makes a good point. But I guess she would know, having skated competitively for years. She’s gone toe-to-toe with athletes her entire life.
What impresses me the most about him, personal feelings aside, is that he doesn’t try to be the star. He’s not the one scoring the goals. It’s enough for him to pass the puck and let somebody else get the glory. He’s come such a long way. I would love nothing more than to talk this over with him, maybe with a bottle of wine between us.
What would be a bad enough idea in the first place is even worse now. We cannot. We should not.
A three-to-one win against the Rattlers makes things better. By the time the final horn sounds, I’m elated and my voice is hoarse from screaming my head off. “I’ll tell you something.” Corey winks at me as we make our way down the row once it’s time to leave. “Whatever they’re paying you isn’t enough. You should ask for a raise.”
She jerks her chin toward the ice, where Coach Kozak looks happy enough to burst. “I bet if you ask him right now, he’d give you part of his salary.”
The funny part is, she’s probably right. He’s lucky I’m not a greedy woman.
At least, when it comes to money. When it comes to men… that’s another story.
6
HARLOW
