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Natalie’s bold and shy smile fills my mind.
“Vassar,” he says, stopping me at his door, “it’s a shame you and Baxter can’t put your personal differences aside, because together you add up to one hell of a team.”
I let out a humorless laugh, not because I don’t see it, but because I know it’s true.
By the time I get back down to the locker room the guys have mostly cleared out. All except the one who hasn’t been on the ice in two and a half weeks. He’s sitting on the bench, looking like the kid whose mom forgot to pick him up from kindergarten.
I could shove the rest of my gear in my bag and take off. Leave him to his locker room in peace. But instead I sit down and pull out my stick.
“How’s the head?” I ask, stripping the tape.
If he’s surprised by the question, he doesn’t show it. “Better. They’re saying I can get back on the ice tomorrow for a no-contact skate. If everything goes right, I’ll play Thursday.”
“That’s good, man. Glad to hear it.”
He gives me a disbelieving look, but then shakes his head and sighs. “Thanks. For that, and for what you did with Hoffman. Rux said he was about to throw another punch when you got to him.”
I grunt.
He nods.
It’s a moment.
One that’s blown to hell when I ask, “How’s your sister doing?”
His eyes narrow into slits and I hold up a hand, tired of going round with this guy. “I’m not trying to start something. I swear.”
“No? So what business is she of yours?”
“I fucking care about her, okay? And since I’m sure the both of you would rather not have me calling her up to see how she’s doing, I figure asking you is the lesser evil.” My mistake.
But it’s got Baxter’s attention, because now he’s watching me like maybe he’s not sure what I’ll do if he takes his eyes off me—run off with his sister, maybe.
Or stay for her.
The thought hits me like a club and leaves me reeling. Because it didn’t bounce through my consciousness like some internalha-hajoke. It landed like an anvil.
I look at the man eyeing me from across the aisle. There’s never been enough room for the both of us. Not in the same room. Not on the same sheet of ice. There’s always been too much ego.
And I wonder what would happen if I just… let some of mine go.
Coming in first has been hammered into my head since the first time I put on skates. Anything less was unacceptable. Anything less cost me in ways kids aren’t supposed to have to pay.
Being number one meant making the competitive team. It meant making captain. It meant recognition. Opportunity. The right school. The right scholarship. The draft. It meant getting to play instead of going to the farm team. It meant starting. It meant money and endorsements and security.
All the things I’ve been working toward with an unwavering commitment from as far back as I can remember. Good things.
But that shit cost me too.
It cost me friends, relationships. It cost me a life.
And now… Christ, could it cost me the only woman who’s ever felt like she might be more important than all the rest? Could I have a chance with Natalie if I just let go of being first?
“What the fuck are you looking at me like that for?”
I shake my head. “You ever think about how much shit you had to give up to get here?”
He blinks. “You trying to…bondwith me right now, Vassar?”
