He scrolled on his phone next to me, and my thoughts churned on with my e-reader stuck on the same page.
What was that call? It was so strange, and solateto be taking a call at all. Then again, he was about to be in Vegas for work, and they were three hours behind us… maybe that was all it was?
That led my thoughts to his trip, to the myriad of emotions I felt guilty for feeling about it.
I was looking forward to him being gone. To the silence. To not choosing my words so carefully. To breathing in my own house.
But I was also lonely here. I was in a new city with no roots yet. And for all our fractures and fault lines, Nathan was my husband. His presence filled space, even when it made me uneasy.
After a while, Nathan put his phone on the charger before leaning over to kiss my shoulder. “I’ll miss you,” he murmured. “While I’m gone.”
“I’ll miss you too,” I said.
It wasn’t a lie. I would miss him.
I also couldn’t wait for him to go.
Both things were true.
And I didn’t know what that said about me.
Delusional
Shane
Present
Watching my star goalie puke had me wanting to do the same.
The poor bastard had barely made it over to the bench before he was forfeiting his pre-game meal, the fans sitting above us so they could peer into the tunnel as the players went in and out getting more than they bargained for. I heard the grimace ring out over the distinct sound of Will Perry’s heaves, and I cursed under my breath.
It was only the third game of the season, and I didn’t have full faith that Ben Sandin was ready to take on the beastly offense of the Baltimore Railers — who had won the Cup last season.
But we had no choice.
He was up.
Fucking hell.
“All right, Perry,” I said, patting his back sympathetically as he spit the last of his vomit out on the floor and wiped his mouth with the back of his glove. “Go home and get some rest.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
“I’m good now.”
“You’re dehydrated with food poisoning, at best, and going to get the rest of the team sick with a stomach virus, at worst,” Icombatted. Then, I shoved his helmet into his chest and pointed at the locker room. “Go. Now. I’ll check in with you after the game. I mean it, Perry, I need you gone.”
He was pissed, and he had no problem showing as much as he swiped his helmet from me and stormed down the tunnel to the locker room with trainers on his heels. Immediately, staff was cleaning up his sick, and I was launching into action.
There was no time for deep sighs. We had a game to win.
“Sandin, you’re in.”
He hopped off the bench immediately. Fortunately, we weren’t far into the first period — he should have still been warm from warmups.
When Sandin nodded at me that he was ready, I could have sworn I saw his gaze slide up to the suite Nathan Black was in.
