“He’s like the most loyal guy ever and is always trying to make sure everyone else is okay. You know, the opposite of you.” He says it like he’s joking, but it’s the kind of joke that hits too close to home.
My hand flexes around the beer can I’d just picked up, and the air is filled with the sound of crinkling metal. This isn’t the “welcome back” I’d been hoping for, even though I know it might be the one I deserve after the way I disappeared for a year. The phone calls and texts I didn’t return have obviously not been forgotten.
“The thing is,” he says calmly, “this isn’t the same team you left, and I want to make sure you don’t try to make waves when you come back.”
“The only waves I’ll be making are on the ice,” I tell him.
“About that...” He glances down into his drink before he looks back up at me. “It looks like you’ll be starting on the second line.”
“The fuck?” I should be grateful AJ’s even bringing me straight back to the team rather than sending me to our AHL affiliate, but this still stings.
“Walsh moved up to the first line to take your place,” he says, like I haven’t watched every single game this season and don’t know this. “And it looks like Coach wants to keep the line together. You know, since we made it all the way to Game 7 that way.”
I try to relax my jaw, because I’m clenching my teeth together so hard I’m going to give myself a headache. I knew this was a possibility. Strategically, it makes sense. Why would Coach mess with a good thing? But I know, with every fiber of my being, that I belong on the first line.
“The good thing,” McCabe continues, “is that the second line is also really strong, and putting you on it means we’ll basically have the equivalent of two first lines.”
“Look at you with the rose-colored glasses,” I say. If McCabe was on the second line—no matter how good it is—he’d be pissed as hell. Just like I am.
“What can I say? I’m a bit more of an optimist now. We should have won the Cup last season. You coming back gives us an even better shot at it this year. I have a good feeling about this.”
I’d like to have a good feeling about this season too. Instead, now I feel like I have to prove myself all over again, over a decade after going pro. And the worst part is, at thirty-three, I’m not sure if I have it in me to claw my way back to the first line again.
“And, even though you’re a dick for disappearing for the past year,” McCabe says, “I’m glad you’re back.”
Chapter Three
MORGAN
The best thing about flying into Bermuda is the way you get to watch the ocean go from deep blue, to bright turquoise, to pale turquoise as the plane touches down.
“Welcome to Bermuda,” the flight attendant’s sunny voice comes over the speaker as we taxi toward the terminal, “where the local time is 2:30 p.m. It’s a hot and humid ninety-two degrees Fahrenheit outside, and it looks like you’re going to get about another few hours of sunshine before the storm rolls in. There is a weather advisory, so please stay alert and follow all local guidelines as the island weathers the oncoming storm. Your Boston-based crew will be turning around and heading back shortly, but it was our pleasure to fly you down here. Stay safe!”
As if I wasn’t already dreading this trip enough, the tropical storm in the Atlantic that looked like it was going to miss Bermuda a few days ago, is—as the article my mom sent informed me—now barreling straight toward the island.
I had hoped they’d cancel the wedding because of the weather, but no such luck. The storm is not expected to stay long or do major damage, but the only thing about this weekend I was looking forward to was spending some time at the pool and thebeach, and now today and tomorrow morning look to be nothing but driving rain and wind. My mom is convinced that everything will be just fine for her wedding tomorrow night.
As the plane turns toward the gate, I turn airplane mode off and wait for my phone to connect to the local network in Bermuda. People in the few rows ahead of me are already deplaning before my phone connects, and the screen is flooded with text messages. This is what happens when the Wi-Fi on the plane is down for the whole flight. I’d planned on getting some work done on the way down here so I could clear my plate and be ready to start with the Rebels after the long weekend, and now I feel more behind than ever.
Eva
Guess what? Gigi and I might get to come home from the hospital as early as Monday.
Audrey
Amazing! Anything we can do to help you get ready for that?
Jules
Yeah, we’re around if you need us.
Eva
LOL, I don’t even know what I’m walking into at home. Luke said he put the crib together, so at least she’ll have a place to sleep.
I snicker to myself thinking about how, when my friend Eva was hospitalized for preeclampsia weeks ago, Luke’s teammates, their girlfriends and fiancées, and me, pitched in to create the nursery of her dreams. She has no idea what she and her baby girl are coming home to! Luke would doanythingfor her, and she doesn’t even suspect this surprise. I still don’t think she’squite wrapped her head around just how much that man loves her.
Morgan
