“They’re good. I think… I mean, they’re so young, they don’t completely understand death, you know?”
“Oh, that’s rough.”
“It is. The twinsmostlyget it, I think. But sometimes Elsa asks when her dad’s coming home, and that just…” He pushed out a breath. “That hits right in the feels.”
“Yeah, I bet. Poor kids. That’s gotta be rough on their mom, too.”
“It is. And she’s holding it together as much as she can, but she’s been having a tough time.” He sighed. “I don’t know how she does it, honestly—handling all of this on top of taking care of three kids with a baby on the way. Just a day of helping her wore me out.”
I grimaced. “She’s tougher than I am, that’s for sure.”
“Right? I mean, it’s not like she had a choice, you know? I’m sure she’d rather not be handling it.” His expression turned even sadder, his gaze a bit distant. “I know I’d rather not, and I don’t have it half as hard as she does.”
“I can only imagine.”
Silence fell between us that I had no idea how to fill.
Fortunately, Avery got us back on the rails and moving in a different direction.
“So how was Coach after the game?” He grimaced again. “He must’ve beenthrilled.”
I made a face, though I was relieved at the new subject even if tonight’s performance made me cringe. “Ugh. Iswear that’s the worst part of losing—the disappointed coach speech afterward, and you were right about how awful it is fromthiscoach.”
He laughed. “That bad, eh?”
“And this was the third loss in a row, so…” I exhaled.
Avery frowned, his expression full of both worry and guilt, and I didn’t need to be mind reader to know where his thoughts were going.
“Don’t put this on your shoulders,” I said softly.
He looked at the camera again. Then he laughed. “Why am I not surprised you can see right through me?”
“Nah.” I shook my head. “I’d probably be feeling the same way.”
His eyebrows flicked up. “Really?”
“Well, yeah. You’re not the only one who feels like he’s letting the whole team down when he’s benched. Every time I’ve been out and my team has lost, I’ve beaten myself up over it for days after.”
“But there’s eighteen skaters on,” he said. “Even if you go down in the middle of the game, that leaves seventeen to get the job done. It’s not on you.”
I inclined my head and arched an eyebrow.
He held my gaze. Then he chuckled. “Okay, okay. Point taken.” Sighing as his smile fell, he sat back. “I really want to get back out there. Not because I feel like I need to take charge and get the team back on track—I just miss it. Even the losses, you know? I’d rather play a losing game than not play at all.”
“I know exactly what you mean.”
He shifted a little, as if he were as restless as me. Being a hockey player, he probablywasthat restless. “I thought going to therapy and dealing with all that shit would be theworst part. And that part’s hard, don’t get me wrong. But not playing hockey?” His shoulders sagged. “It fucking sucks. Even when I can still practice a little. Especially when the team is struggling and there’s nothing I can do to help.”
“You’vebeenhelping. Coming to games, practicing with the guys—it helps keep everyone’s spirits up more than you probably realize.”
“But tonight…” His expression turned pained.
“You know damn well we could’ve lost catastrophically with you, too. It wasn’t your absence that lost tonight—it was us falling apart.”
“Still.”
“Look, I know you’re having a tough time, but don’t shoulder this too. And you’ll be back playing hockey again before you know it, and we’ll be glad to have you. But the most important thing right now is taking care of you. The team? We can hold the line.” I paused. “Well, most of the time, but losing streaks happen even when players aren’t missing, so…”
