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“How long have you been coaching the team?”
“I guess about three years.”
“You skate really well.” My eyes were on the road as I pulled from the parking spot, but I heard the smirk in Fox’s voice.
“That’s sort of a prerequisite when you play professional hockey.”
“You’re allowed to skate with your bad knee? You said you blew it out and it ended your career.”
“It holds well enough to skate around for coaching. But I can’t play at the intensity level the league requires.”
I nodded. “It must’ve been hard to have your career end so early.”
Fox was quiet for a minute. “It was a rough time, yeah.”
“Seems to have turned out well, though. Opal said you run a few jobs at a time these days.”
“I got lucky. Some guys don’t know anything but hockey.”
I took a deep breath and nodded. “I get it. I’ve given a lot of thought to changing careers myself. But I have no idea what I would do. All I’ve ever wanted to do was work in research.”
“Why would you change your career? Didn’t you go to school for most of your life to get where you landed?”
“I did. But...”
Fox looked over at me. “Sometimes you don’t get over what happens, Josie. You have to figure out how to walk around it instead. Otherwise you’re stuck in the same place forever.”
I sighed. “Yeah.”
“Is that what you’re really doing down here? Hiding from what happened?”
I shook my head and shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe…”
Fox looked out the window. “You can only run for so long. Eventually whatever’s eatin’ you catches up.”
I forced a smile. “Yeah. Plus, I can’t run to save my life. We used to have relay races in elementary school during gym class. I was always the last one picked.”
Fox chuckled. He was quiet for a while, but this time it didn’t feel weird or awkward.
“Thanks again for picking me up,” he eventually said.
“Anytime.”
“Probably be the last time. Two of the guys asked me if you were single on my way out.”
“The players?”
He nodded with a laugh. “They’re definitely the most cocky, confident bunch I’ve ever coached.”
I smiled. “Their coach must be rubbing off on them.”
Back on Rosewood Lane, I turned into my driveway. Whatever lack of awkwardness I’d appreciated on the trip home quickly disappeared when I turned off the engine. Neither of us got out right away. We sat in the dark, me looking straight ahead and Fox looking—I wouldn’t know because I didn’t dare glance over.
When I couldn’t take the silence a second longer and thought I might burst, I turned and said, “Fox,” at the same moment he turned and said, “Josie.”
He lifted his chin. “You first.”
I shook my head. “No, you. I didn’t have anything important to say.”
