“Maybe Chicago can trade for L.A.’s goalie,” Anil suggests.
I grin. “Julian says Patrik, their goalie, is actually really good. The problem isn’t necessarily their goalie’s lack of skills, but that their defensemen aren’t always where they need to be. They are two players on the team whose job it is to defend the goal. It isn’t just up to the goalie to do so.”
We had a conversation about it during the one about having been shutout with Colorado and Julian explained to me about everyone’s role. While it’s really difficult to figure out who is in what position since no one is standing still, Julian says you should still be able to pick out the defensemen since their job isn’t to be aggressive in the other team’s defensive zone, though they do go there too. But their job is to be prepared to retrieve the puck that’s shot out of the opposite defensive zone and get it back to their teammates.
Should the other team bring it into our defensive zone, they should be actively protecting the goalie and stopping goal attempts while the offensive players try to get the puck back.
Honestly, I’m not sure I see the difference most days. On any team. There was one I watched recently where I knew that one ofthe players was defensive. He hung around the blue line to wait for the puck, moving in line with where the puck was without getting tied up in the struggle to make a goal.
Which meant he was there to catch it when it was shot toward him and hedidmake a goal.
Julian says the whole team should be a well-oiled machine. Everyone should do their jobs seamlessly but also have the flexibility to slide into another position when there’s a need in real time.
It feels really confusing if you ask me.
“Thanks for watching with me,” I say. “I needed someone to share the horror with this time.”
Jash snorts. He’s gently rubbing Ravi’s back as the baby sleeps. The first time I saw him holding his first child like that, I was a little in awe of him. I never once thought I was in love with Jash. There’s the argument that we were just teenagers and all that shit. But I thought that a part of mehadloved him because I was certainly hurt when he told me his parents had arranged his marriage partner and we’d need to stop seeing each other.
I was angry and frustrated and certainly hurt. Add in confusion when he didn’t stop showing up to hang out. Then I was irritated that I didn’t hate his new soon-to-be-wife. Obviously, I got over it. Probably because I had no delusions that I wasinlove with him.
The moment I thought maybe I did love him a little was when I saw him holding his newborn daughter for the first time. He just looked like an effortlessly good dad. Like someone who loved his child more than anything at all.
It was also then that I went through a short period of jealousy because it felt like Jash was just innately good at everything and it felt so unfair.
I’ve grown up a lot in the last few years.
“I don’t wish to see another non-scoring game,” Anil says.
“Unfortunately for you, the scores aren’t predetermined,” Alok says. “We’ll never know until the game ends.”
“That was a message for the universe. Don’t let Chicago Breeze go through that again. Please.”
I grin. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Have a good day.”
“Go give your man a whole lot of extra love and attention,” Alok says, winking at me right before he disconnects.
I roll my eyes and close out of the video. No, I haven’t told them what’s going on. Like my father, what they know is that I’m here with Julian. They know one additional detail and that’s exactly how I met Julian, whereas my father doesn’t.
But they don’t know that it’s still very… new. Slow. Sometimes, I still think it’s a little unsure, but I also think that maybe that’s just my doubt that’s hanging around because I can’t stop seeing the way he looked at me in the airport.
It wasn’t me he wanted. It wasn’t me he was looking for.
I leave the television on and head to my bedroom to get ready for bed while I push those thoughts away. I’m convinced he wants me here. That he doesn’t want me to go back to India. We’re just moving at the rate of molasses going uphill.
When I’m in my pajamas and ready for bed, I head back to the couch to wait for Julian. The TV is super low, so I can hear the lock in the entryway flip. I’m not waiting long. As soon as it clicks, I turn the television off and head for the door.
It opens just as I step into the space. He looks tired. But when his eyes meet mine, a smile touches his lips. I reach for his bag, but he drops it on the floor and catches my hand, pulling me into him. His strong arms wrap around me as he buries his face in my neck.
“Rough game,” I say quietly.
Julian sighs. “It was.”
He doesn’t sound overly distraught about it. But the way he holds me after a loss is different from how he holds me after he wins. Like right now, he wants comfort. He wants to forget.
Minutes pass and I close my eyes. I’m about to brave it up and tell him we can hug in bed if he’s tired, but he speaks instead.
“I have a friend on L.A.—Noah Kain. He asked if I wanted to get a bite to eat with him and Hector Atlas—another player on L.A.”
