“Yeah, all the time. I mean, I guess it’s dumb to think about it so much, right? Because whatever name you like, I know I’ll like, too. But, still, I can’t stop thinking about it. How many kids do you think we should have? Three? I keep coming back to three as a good number in my daydreams. About our future together. But I wouldn’t mind more if you wanted. Or less.”
My tongue is a heavy roll of sandpaper in my mouth. He’s been thinkingthismuch about … our future together?
He’s really inthatdeep?
Maybe I shouldn’t be so foolish as to be surprised. I knew Jamie. I knew what kind of heart he has. Did I even believe myself when I imagined that the terms of our arrangement could keep us from getting emotionally tangled?
The doctor comes back, saving me from having to respond. I step back, letting her resume her assessment.
I finally can’t play dumb anymore. I can’t pretend that things between Jamie and me aren’t changing; I can’t pretend that his heart isn’t getting more involved by the day.
I can’t pretend that the same isn’t happening to me—and I can’t pretend that it’s not going to get even worse if we let things continue down this path.
I have a lot of thinking to do, and I’d better do it fast.
41
JAMIE
This whole week sucked.
I was diagnosed with a concussion and have been dealing with regular headaches. I’m not cleared to play tonight, so I’m warming the bench when I should be out there helping my team.
Worst of all, and it’s not even close, is that Carmen’s been distant.
The first couple days after my concussion, she spent a lot of time at my place taking care of me while the guys were busy with classes and practices that I wasn’t cleared to attend. Even then, something seemed off with her, but I just wrote it off as her being worried.
But after I recovered and started taking care of myself, I’ve hardly seen her. She always has an excuse for why she can’t meet up. She takes forever replying to texts. She hasn’t sent me one unprompted in days.
I’m starting to get worried.
Look, I know what I agreed to. Even though we’re sleeping together, and even though we’re hanging out while doing so,we’re not in a relationship, and we’re not going to be. I heard her terms loud and clear, and I told her I was on the same page.
In my heart, I always wanted more. Maybe I should have been upfront about that fact when we started this, even though I’m pretty damn sure she knew.
One of the reasons she had for starting this arrangement was that she thought it would help her get over her writer’s block. She’s done that. She’s always talking excitedly about the progress she’s making in her book lately. She’s almost finished it.
Maybe, to her, it’s mission accomplished at this point. She got what she was supposed to get out of this, and so did I. There’s no need for it to continue, since deeper feelings were never supposed to be involved. So, she’s pulling the plug.
But do I really believe that?
Do I buy that her feelings are still so cold, when I think about the way she curls against me in her bed when I spend the night, or the smile that pops on her face when she opens the door for me, or the way her coffee-brown eyes shone when I wore that silly shirt with her name on the back?
Carmen is like a powerful magnet for my thoughts, pulling them away from what they should be focused on: the game playing out in front of me. I’m still the damn captain of this team, after all. But then something happens that I can’t ignore.
The second period ends with us up 1-0. All game long, Veikko’s been locking down Boston U’s left forward, Jorgens. Veikko has his number, interrupting his passes and stealing the puck from him multiple times.
Seconds after the referee’s whistle ends the period, in a way that no one watching could believe isn’t intentional, Jorgens smashes full speed into Veikko while his back is turned.
I shoot to my feet, even though the doctor told me to avoid sudden movement. “What the fuck!” I yell as the bench around me roars in outrage.
Felix rips off his goalie mask and throws his stick to the side. His eyes burn like fire, and his face is lined with anger as he skates like an arrow straight to Jorgens. He gets there before anyone else and levels Jorgens with a punch.
Pandemonium erupts inside the arena. Whistles are shrilling through the air like police sirens responding to a crime scene. Players from both teams jostle chaotically around Felix and Jorgens, the latter covering up as Felix continues to rain blows on him, his face twisted in fury like he’s possessed.
Veikko clambers to his feet. He stands apart from the knot of commotion, taking in the scene.
Enough referees and players have inserted themselves between Felix and Jorgens to create some separation. Jorgens is only too eager to get pulled away, while Felix is still trying to push toward him, his hands striking out at the air.
