I reached around and rubbed at the tension stiffening the back of my neck. I didn’t know how the hell to answer that, mainly because I didn’t have the first clue if I was okay or not. So I answered the only way I knew how.
“Season’s over for me, boys.” I spent the next few minutes relaying everything I recalled from the doctor’s appointment.
The flashes of pity and sympathy in my friends’ eyes was all it took to make the walls feel like they were closing in on me, and my three-thousand square foot condo suddenly felt stifling. Was there even air pumping in here?
“Hey, it’s not so bad,” Lee attempted, his tone placating. “At least you’ll be back next season, right?”
Silence filled the room, making the air thick and heavy. I couldn’t get the words out. Luckily, I didn’t have to, because Luke knew me too damn well. He could practically read what was going through my head.
“You’re thinking about retiring.” It wasn’t voiced as an accusation or a question, but rather a simple fact.
While he looked calm at the realization, McClusky and Lee were anything but. “What?” Lee barked while McClusky snapped, “You’vegotto be kidding me. You can’t retire! We need you.”
If only that were true.
“I’m thirty-seven, McClusky.” Finally speaking those words out loud was physically painful, slicing at my throat like a sheet of sandpaper. “I’m not bouncing back the way I used to.”
“You make it sound like you’re ancient.” Lee crossed his arms and scowled down at me like I’d pissed him off. “You still have another season or two in you.”
The way my knees rattled like rain sticks every damn time I bent them said otherwise. So did the fact it took a good five minutes to get my sore ass out of bed every morning because I had to wait for my muscles to unlock and my joints to loosen.
“You’re the best goalie in the whole goddamn league,” McClusky insisted, and as much as I wanted to, I couldn’t ignore the truth any longer.
“I used to be,” I admitted, giving voice to the intrusive thoughts I’d been having for way too goddamn long. “I used to be the best, but I’m not anymore.” The stats spoke for themselves. “I’m too goddamn old and tired. I can’t keep up with these young kids coming in anymore.”
Beneath the sadness and disappointment, I could see understanding in their faces. They knew just as well as I did the toll this job took on our bodies. They were fortunate enough to have less years under their belt than I did. McClusky and Lee were only twenty-five and twenty-six, respectively. Luke, though, was thirty, nearly thirty-one, so he got it more than the other two.
As much as the four of us might have wanted to deny it, I was slowing down. Everyone knew it, but I couldn’t shake that small kernel of hope deep inside me that refused to go away.
“Look, I’m not saying it for sure. Nothing’s set in stone. Right now I need to focus on healing. And you guys need to focus on tonight’s game, not worry about me, okay?”
“I could have sworn I caught McClusky’s bottom lip poke out in a pout before he caught himself. “How the hell are we supposed to win another cup without you?”
“Hey, knock that shit off,” Luke said firmly. “We’ll win another cup because we’re that fucking good as a team.”
“Damn straight.” I nodded in agreement because it was a fact. As much as the devil on my shoulder might want to pretend I was the sole reason for the two cups the Rebels had won, it was because of the work we all put in.
“Amen.” Luke nodded resoundingly as he pushed to standing. “That’s a consideration for another day. Why don’t you take some time away,” he suggested as though he was living inside my own brain and could sense what I’d been thinking before I even thought it. “Take a break, you know? Maybe get out of the city and decompress for a bit. Get your head on straight.”
That was exactly what I needed. And I was pretty sure I knew the perfect place to go. The one place where I’d felt the calmest in a really long time.
I saw the guys out, wishing them good luck on tonight’s game, then snatched up my phone. I had an open-ended reservation to book.
Chapter Two
Holiday
Now
A frigid windblew past me as I stepped out of my car, lifting my hair and whipping the strands around so they slapped me in the face. I wasn’t sure if it was my mind playing tricks on me, but it seemed unnaturally quiet, the clap of my car door shutting cracking through the still air like a gunshot.
I didn’t know why the hell I was doing this. I didn’t wantto be here, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it. So when the thought popped into my head for the thousandth time only seconds after I woke up this morning, I decided that today was the day. I was pulling the trigger on this once and for all, and hopefully, the urge and all thoughts ofhimwould finally go away.
I lifted my face to the sky, squinting as the wind pierced my eyes and cheeks, feeling like a million tiny needles puncturing my skin. I couldn’t shake the thought that the dull gray sky was fitting, as were the bare trees, with their gnarled, twistedlimbs. Given what I was about to do, the dreary day matched my current mood.
The dead, frost-coated grass crunched beneath my boots with each hesitant step I took. I passed headstones of all different shapes and sizes, all of them having one thing in common—the one thing that was missing from the headstone I sought out. Etched into each stone were proclamations of love. How much the person buried beneath the ground was missed greatly by their family and friends.
When I finally reached my destination, I stuffed my hands into the pockets of my coat and looked down at the basic marker, void of any frills or mentions of love. All that had been carved into this one was a name and two numbers. The year he was born, and the year he died. That was it. Since the cost was per letter, we’d decided to put the very minimum. We didn’t even put specific dates.
