Then he’s sitting down in the empty chair next to Beth andme and I’m asking them about their trip, listening to them banter (a.k.a. argue), and it’s like that time when I lived with them. They loop me in without it feeling awkward, even when I’m sitting back in my chair and just watching them act like the lovable lunatics they are.
We talk late into the night about everything and nothing and I think…
Well, I think some part of that gnawing emptiness inside me is filled in.
Only, after they’ve gone off to bed in their RV, after I’ve taken a bath and crawled beneath my own covers, I know it’s only temporary.
Because that’s when the emptiness creeps back in.
FOURTEEN
Damon
“I love hockey,”Kylie says, her smile wide as she loads up a plate from the spread in one corner of the box.
“Since when?” I mutter. “You haven’t been to a game in years.”
“I did my time growing up.” She punches me lightly on the shoulder. “And let me say, those youth games didnothave this kind of spread.”
“Which means you don’t love hockey. You lovesnacks,” I correct, bumping my shoulder against hers before I reach over and snag a bottle of water.
“You say potato…”
My lips twitch, but I just twist open the lid on the bottle then move over to the seats that overlook the rink.
Warmups are done. The Zamboni has cleaned the ice. Anthems have been sung and the players have filled their requisite benches, five on each side taking their places on the ice.
Puck drop isimminent.
Which means I need to sit my ass in this chair and watch the players below do what I dream of.
What I lost.
What I’ll never have again.
I don’t regret what I did.
I do regret the fact that I haven’t stepped foot on the ice since—first because my contract was voided, then because I was on house arrest. I was lucky I had to do very little actual jail time, though still more than the asshole who hurt Kylie. And anyway, by the time I even thought about strapping on my skates again, it was too painful to get back into that headspace again.
Luckily, I had still had connections in the league.
I got a gig scouting then assisting with player development and eventually was an assistant GM for a few years before I came here.
Before I inherited something that was a hidden nightmare.
The crowd quiets and the whistle trills, players moving into position for the puck drop.
A moment later, the game is under way.
Lake wins the puck back to Riggs on defense and we’re off, moving into the offensive zone, gaining entry, getting a legitimate shot on net before play swings back the other way and we’re on the defensive.
It’s back and forth for long minutes, the crowd oohing and aahing, gasping and cheering in equal turn, and by the end of the first we’re still scoreless.
That’s okay.
That’s hockey.
Sometimes it’s a game of patience.
