TURNER.
Griffin plays for Emery University, and though I watched him a few times on the ice this summer playing in pickup games against Jax and Carson, I hardly recognized him when he skated by our seats earlier during warmups. He looked so broken.
His little sister Katie was killed last month in a drunk driving accident that almost claimed Kenna’s life too.
I wasn’t able to make it back for the funeral because Kyle scheduled my first gig in Nashville.
But I should’ve gone. I should’ve turned down the gig. It would’ve been the right thing to do, especially considering how emotional I was.
Even though I didn’t know Katie for that long, it didn’t matter. She accepted me as a part of their friend group without question and with open arms. She was kind, caring, smart, beautiful, funny as hell, andyoungwith a full life ahead of her that was stolen in the blink of an eye.
Tears well in my eyes as regret churns in my stomach.
I should’ve been there. For Kenna. For Griffin. For Carson. But most importantly, for Jax.
Jackson reaches his gloved hand across the red line to give Griffin knucks but Griff just shakes his head once and crouches down to get ready to take the faceoff. Jax’s shoulders fall in defeat before he mirrors Griff’s position.
The puck is dropped and Griffin wins the faceoff back to one of his defensemen.
From what Jax told me this summer, Harvard’s team is young with mostly freshmen and sophomores making up the roster aside from their junior goalie, Enzo Calvetti.
Just as I think of the name, it’s announced over the roar of the crowd as Calvetti makes a glove save off of an Emery winger’s shot on goal.
“Not today, asshole!” Ryan shouts, causing a few Harvard fans around us to cheer and high five her.
Shaking my head, I bring my gloved hand to cover my laugh.
I have the best friend in the world.
She knows just how to ease my mind and quell my anxious thoughts that were riddling me only moments ago.
I decide right here and now to make a vow to myself. For the next few hours, I won’t think about all of the ways my life is about to irrevocably change in the coming months. Instead, I’m going to watch the man I married live out his dream of playing college hockey for the next three periods before I turn his world upside down.
I’m going to pretend his dad didn’t blackmail me into breaking both of our hearts, that I didn’t accept a record deal that thwarted our plans for college together in Boston. Instead, I’ll imagine I did move into my dorm at Berklee and I’m here supporting Jackson.
One truth still remains: I’m still his, and no matter what happens, I always will be.
The game is closer than I thought it’d be considering I overheard a few guys in front of us talking about how much olderEmery’s team was than ours and that they had planned to leave after the first or second period because they were sure it’d be a blow out.
Instead, Harvard managed to hold them to a tie with only a goal apiece.
Apparently there are a few parties where it’s likely players from both teams will be in attendance considering how close the universities are in proximity to each other.
Ryan does some digging on social media and finds a party where some of the Harvard players are going.
Feeling unsure of myself, I wring my hands together as we walk into the foyer of a Harvard frat house. The loud music makes it hard to hear anything Ryan is trying to tell me, so she leans in and yells, “Give me your hand so we don’t lose track of each other!”
I place my hand in hers as she works her way through the crowded entryway and living room areas toward the large kitchen at the back of the house. An oversized island is littered with liquor bottles and mixers that I gloss over without a thought as I search for Jax in the sea of people.
A guy with jet black hair that looks as if he’s just showered reaches across me for a bottle of Diet Coke to mix into his cup.
“Pardon my reach,” he murmurs, giving us an easygoing grin.
He looks vaguely familiar, though I can’t place where I’ve seen him.
The guy catches me staring when he turns to face me and he must misinterpret my puzzled look for intrigue because he says, “Were you ladies at the game tonight?”
Ryan answers, “We were.”
