“I might be falling for someoneelse.” Her reply rings around my head, slamming over and over in my brain like a gong going off. It’s enough to make me dizzy.
I tip my head forward, partially because my head is throbbing, but also because I’ve entered into a stage of disbelief, and I rasp, “How long?”
Her lips move but her words are ghosts. Now she looks frightened with raised brows and her skin blanching paler. “I don’t know—”
“Tell the truth,” I cut her off as my shock quickly morphs into anger. If there’s one thing I hate, it’s lying. We’ve been spending our usual amount of time together, nights after hockey practice and weekends. I haven’t even had the inkling of an idea that she may be dating someone else.
“It just happened.” She raises an anti-climactic shoulder and then tacks on, “I wasn’t looking for anything.”
“Who is he?” I demand, this time grabbing her hand, taking a second to scan all her perfect fingers. I’ve memorized the way her hands look, and having her skin against mine sends a ripple right through my chest that nearly takes my breath away. I squeeze out, “I trusted you.” A loud phone vibration rumbles from her pocket. Her eyes shift side to side before she replants her gaze on me, pretending to ignore her phone. “Why don’t you answer the phone?” I taunt, as it’s all too clear what’s going on.
“It’s fine.” Her hand finds her pocket and slides inside. I assume she’s going to silence it and pretend this didn’t happen. A fire in my chest says, “I won’t be played anymore.” With a quick reflex, I reach in her oversized pocket, stealing her phone right from her grip, and yank it out for us both to see the name still blinking on the screen: Blake Anton.
My teammate.
My best friend.
We’ve played hockey together since we were both in preschool, and we were the only two guys from our high school team to be signed to the NHL. It was a huge victory for our little town, and I was proud to share the spotlight with him. Now, my eyes narrow and nostrils flare as my gaze bounces from his stupid name back to Lacy, the woman I love more than anything.
There’s only one thing I want—revenge.
My fingers curl into the tightest fists as I vow to stop at nothing until I beat Blake.
He may have won the girl.
But I will beat him in hockey.
I will be more successful and richer than him.
I will win life.
two
Ruth Miller
Twenty-five Years Later
“This just in,” the noon news anchor reports from the little black-and-white TV, which hangs above the long diner counter. The TV has been there since my mother opened this place fifty years ago. Yes, it’s far from the big screens they have at Red Barn Kabobs, but that TV might very well be the last working black-and-white TV in all of Mapleton. Despite all the complaints from regulars about the fuzzy lines that scroll up over the picture, I don’t have the heart to get rid of it. Call me nostalgic, but I love old things.
And yeah, maybe I have a hard time letting go of the past.
So what.
I grab Mrs. Wagner’s breakfast ticket and punch in the total amount in the till. One of my ears captures all the ways Mrs. Wagner’s tulips are doomed this year because they sprouted too early. My other ear stays attuned to the news. What I hear makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up straight.
“Billionaire Bill Baker has announced he’s bringing an AHL team right here to Mapleton. With the team, he’s also announced he’s already started construction on a brand-new arena, estimated to be around fifty million dollars. The economic boost Mapleton’s set to receive from the construction project alone has the city’s vendors buzzing with excitement. We can’t wait to welcome this new team, and to top it off, Bill’s announced a nationwide scout-free search to recruit for his team. For more information on the recruitment process, interested people can go to the website Granite Ice Hockey—”
“What did he say?” I twist my neck until I can zero in on the screen. I’ve heard the rumors circulating the diner for months. Mapleton has one of the best gossip mills of any small town, and this little diner is a hub. The thing is, I didn’t believe the rumors. It didn’t make sense for anyone to put a professional team in such a small town, but I guess it’s already in motion. “Granite Ice Hockey,” I read the website that flashes on the screen while myheart ticks up a notch.This might be the answer to my prayers!All the years of hoping Noah gets a better life than I can offer and has a chance to escape this poverty.
I whip out my pen and pad of paper from my stained server apron and jot it down. My fingers jitter when I reread Granite Ice Hockey. It feels special.
“Oh, that Bill Baker is always up to no good,” Mrs. Wagner grumbles over the counter. “What does Mapleton need with a hockey team, anyway?”
“Well, I can’t say we need a hockey team, but it would be a phenomenal addition. You know my son Noah has played hockey since he was three. He’s eighteen now. His dream is to play in the NHL, but his rank isn’t high enough to get signed. I’m praying for it, but I can’t help but feel like it’s my fault. Being a single mom, I couldn’t afford a lot of the opportunities most of these kids have now days. Shoot, half of the time, I couldn’t even pay for him to go to open skate at our indoor rink, and he had to practice on the frozen pond.”
“I don’t know if it’s your fault.” Her head tilts thoughtfully to the side. “These kids now days think the world revolves around them. It’s every little boy’s dream to play pro sports. What most of them need to learn is, they aren’t that special. It’s better to learn that early, so they can plan on a solid career. Maybe, tell your son, Noah, to try plumbing. You know it’s only a two-year program. I hear those guys are always busy. Have you tried to find a plumber lately? You can’t hardly get one to call you back.” She points her knobby knuckled finger at me, wagging it around as if I’m the one who needs a lesson. “That’s a solid income.”
Working at a diner, I’ve heard it all. Living as a single mom, I learned many lessons. Some over and over again. A knot bumbles in my throat as I can’t fathom the audacity this woman has to wag her finger at me. I don’t need to tell my son to abandon his hopes and dreams.
