“Yoga?” The priest cocked his head. “That’s your existential crisis?”
“It’s a load of crap.” Patch got to his feet and paced the kitchen perimeter. “Coach should trust me or cut me. But I don’t see how doing some doggy-style feel-good bullshit is going to make a difference.”
“Studies show that meditation and yoga can do wonders for anger management.”
“Why aren’t you giving me some big lecture about how yoga leads straight to the devil? That’s half the reason why I came out here.”
Sully snorted. “Look, way I see it, as Catholics, we bend our knees in prayer. Body postures have a psychological effect. Does the church criticize yoga? Meditation? Probably in this case it would. But do I?”
“You’re not exactly Mr. Orthodox.”
“No. I’m not. Never have been. But the God that I believe in wants to see us happy. Peaceful. And you, my friend, are neither.”
“I am when playing hockey.”
“Three or four years ago, I’d have agreed. The game helped clear your head. But now, it is starting to feel like you can’t get through three periods without knocking someone out. It’s become part of the opposing team strategy—take an otherwise formidable goalie with the thinnest skin in the league. Poke a few times and he’ll break apart. Something is eating at you from the inside out. It’s Self-Destructive Tendencies 101. It’s like you feel the need to be punished for what happened to your mom—”
“Don’t want to discuss Ma either.”
Sully went quiet a moment. “Do you mind if I ask what you’re really afraid of with this situation? I don’t feel like I’m getting the full story.”
Patch didn’t have to answer. But if you couldn’t tell the truth to your best friend slash priest then what was the point of having either?
He mumbled the answer, half drowning it in a slug of coffee.
Sully arched an eyebrow and rubbed the bald spot appearing near the back of his head. “Gonna need you to swallow and repeat yourself.”
“Don’t talk to girls much.” Patch grimaced as his throat muscles constricted. “Or women. Guess they’re women at our age.”
Sully grunted, his gaze softening. “I hate to break it to you, buddy, but you never did. And between you and me, it always seemed a waste, God giving you that face and then tying your tongue in knots.”
“It didn’t used to matter. Thought I’d be joining you, remember? Wearing a white collar. Ministering to my own parish. One that had a school with a decent hockey team.”
“Well, that plan lasted a hot minute. Seminary dropout,” Sully crooned using the same general tune as the song “Beauty School Dropout.” Remind me how long you were in? A month? Two? Before you went back to hockey. Let’s face it. You’d have hated being a priest. Swearing is frowned upon. And blasphemy is out. You also need to be comfortable talking about feelings.”
“Ballbuster,” Patch growled.
“This was never your path.” Sully didn’t look the least bit intimidated. “You’re too much in your head, my friend.”
“Hey, it’s good in here.”
“Liar.” The smile slid off Sully’s face as his expression turned serious. “You came to see me because you wanted advice, so here it is. Tell your coach yes, you’ll give this yoga instructor woman a try. Because what’s the worst that could happen?”
“I don’t know. It blows up in my face?”
“Seems like you’re the one blowing up things lately, mostly opportunities.”
Patch didn’t respond. He didn’t have to. Sully was right.
He didn’t want to do anything differently, but if he didn’t start making better choices then his life was soon going to be nothing but ashes. And he’d worked too damn hard, travelled too damn far from that skinny, scared kid in Boston, to go back now.
As he left Sully’s rectory, he dug out the number he’d scratched down on a piece of scrap paper and looked at the name.
“Well, shit,” he muttered under his breath before sending a short text. “Here goes nothing, Margot Kowalski.”
Chapter Five
Margot stared at her front door, pulse racing like a thoroughbred. Two minutes ago, after the unmistakablethunkof a slamming car door, she’d scurried to her living room window, peeking from behind a drape long enough to catch a flash of a Red Sox ball cap and a ginger beard.
