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The worst part is, he’s right. “Because you know me so well. You’re such an expert.”
His smile slips away all at once, and his gaze hardens. “I know you well enough to know you need to let it go.”
“Let what go?”
“Come on.” He looks across the ice, and I don’t need to follow his eyes to know where his attention has drifted. “You’re pissed off. So am I. But that’s not helping anybody.”
“It’s just…” I shake my head firmly before heading for the bench where I left my Gatorade. “No. This isn’t the time.”
“Try to keep it in mind, then,” he mutters, skating by my side. “Keep your angry faces for later, when nobody else on the team is going to see them.”
“Fine. I’ll… be more aware, or something. Satisfied?”
“Sure. I’ll sleep a lot better tonight.” Let him roll his eyes all he wants. He’s just as pissed by the situation as I am. We finally got a good thing going, even if keeping our hands to ourselves until the end of the season weren’t something I wasn’t looking forward to. At least we were all going to be together. And it’s not only because of our relationship that I’m feeling this way, either. We got a good thing going on the team, too. We found our rhythm, we work together seamlessly when everything is clicking. Now, we’ll have to fill in the gap Ryder’s departure will lead to.
The assistant coaches gather together while Coach Kozak shows them whatever he’s got going on in that binder of his. I’d like to hit him over the head with that binder. Let Ryder blame himself all he wants, but I put a lot of the blame squarely on the coach’s shoulders. He knew what he was doing. But he did it anyway, even if it affected the team negatively.
I could be completely wrong, but it just seems a little too convenient for me to take it any other way.
Ryder is putting on a happy face for the sake of the team, being lighthearted and even philosophical about the trade. “Laugh itup,” he calls out when one of the guys jokes about him being buried in snow up in Minnesota. “I’ll be busy cuddling by the fire with a blond.”
Is this the sort of thing he has to say, but I immediately look up at where Harlow is sitting, anyway. She had to hear that. I’m sure she took it the way he meant it, as a way to deflect. I’ve had my questions about Ryder in the past, but one thing I’ve never questioned is his devotion to her. He is as committed as I am, as Soren is. I bet the nights are going to get pretty damn lonely out there.
She’s watching him, sitting alone, her attention trained on him as he skates. Maybe somebody should tell her to fix her face, since there’s pretty obvious emotion written all over hers. Sadness, mostly, and concern. She’s already missing him when he hasn’t even left yet.
Soren joins me and I jerk my chin in her direction. “Do you think she’s okay?”
“Finding out one of her boyfriends is moving in a couple of days? Sure, why wouldn’t she be?”
“Is everything a joke? For once, can you take something seriously?”
“Easy, boy. Don’t bite my head off.” He seems to take me more seriously, though, gazing up at her wearing a frown. “I don’t know. She’s pretty much the way I would expect her to be. Why, do you think it’s something else?”
I’m torn on what to say. On one hand, what good is it, worrying him? On the other hand, maybe I need to prove to myself that I’m not making all of this up in my head — either that, or I need to be assured that I’m overthinking it.
“She seems… Less. I know,” I grumble when he laughs, “it sounds weird. That’s the only way I can think to describe it. She is, like, faded. Low energy. Distracted. And didn’t she say at the pub she was getting a headache?”
“So was I. It was loud as fuck in there.”
Of course, he has to treat it like a joke. “I’m just saying. I’m a little worried about her.”
“We’ll have to make it a point to pick her spirits up however we can. She’s just upset about Ryder,” he concludes. He’s probably right, too.
Still. I can’t shake the feeling that I need to watch her. She’s the kind of person who doesn’t like to ask for help. Those are the people you need to watch after.
26
RYDER
I’ve gotten myself into some situations before. The sort of stuff I didn’t think I would survive. I’ve made more than my share of mistakes, I’ve acted before I thought, and most of the time I didn’t give a damn about the consequences.
This is not one of those times. I can’t help wanting to kick myself every time I put another item in a bag or a box. Every time I think about everything I’m leaving behind as I pack up my life – a life I wasn’t ready to uproot – and do my best to fumble my way through a shitty situation.
What makes it even worse – as if I needed something else on my plate – is not being able to get in touch with Pete. Last I checked, Erin still hasn’t heard from him and can’t reach him. Neither can I, and I don’t know whether that’s because he is ignoring me or because something terrible has happened. I hate to let my thoughts drift in that direction, but I’m too much of a realist to think positive. I mean, there’s trying to look at the bright side, and there’s being a jerk about it. I don’t want to delude myself.
The best I can do is send him a text with my new address in Minnesota and let him know if he wants to meet me up there, I’ll be glad to buy him a ticket. Otherwise, I can only hope he does the right thing for himself. It’s not easy, letting go. And I’m letting go of so much, aren’t I?
One thing is for damn sure as I shove socks and underwear into a carry-on, no more acting without thinking for me. Never again. Sure, that’s easy to say at a time like this when I’m basically watching my life go up in flames around me. I need to remember it when the time comes, that’s all. When I’m in the moment. No going off half-cocked, not anymore. Now, I have something worth taking care of. Something worth guarding and protecting. I have Harlow. And she has to suffer for my stupid mistake.
