Tae merely grunts. “Want me to make sure Coach runs them into the ground?”
“Seriously though, you dated Jackie?” Raimo questions.
I nod.
Someone blows out a breath.
“Unbelievable. I had no idea you dated my agent, or I would’ve told Raimo no,” Javier says. “Was seeing Val horribly awkward?”
Actually, after word dumping all of my issues to her, we’d been able to laugh the awkwardness off. It’d been kind of cathartic. We stuck to surface topics the rest of the night and enjoyed ourselves.
Oddly enough, she actually gave me her phone number in case I need a friend to talk to. “Nah. It was all right. Just don’t hook me up with any more exes or their relatives.”
Javier laughs again. The tenor tone of his joy gives him away, along with that leg slap. Raimo always manages to sound like the wordguffawwhile Tae’s laughter is in the bass range. Funny how my mind knows these instinctively, but I’m now realizing the nuances consciously.
“Coach is coming,” Raimo says abruptly. “You need help off the ice?”
My back stiffens. “No,” I snap.
Immediately, I glide off the ice toward the walkway that leads to the lockers. As I step off the ice, something flies in my periphery, and I stumble. My face heats, but no one says a word to me. I haven’t tripped since I was a toddler being led around the rink by my mom.
Please don’t tell meone of the guys saw that.To ensure no one sees any more humiliating moments, I maneuver more slowly the rest of the way.
“Crank, what were you doing out on the ice?” Coach’s voice comes from behind.
I make a one eighty. “No one was here when I first arrived.”
He sighs. “But for your safety...”
“I know, Coach.”
Does he know what he’s asking of me? To not skate feels like chopping my legs right out from under me. How can I be able bodied yet one little issue with my vision has me feeling more restricted than anything?
Why are you throwing a pityparty? There are people who are suffering worse than youare. So you conked your head. You’re still alive,right?
But what is my life without hockey?
“You don’t have to show up to practices, but I expect you at the game come Sunday.”
“Yes, Coach.”
I wait a beat to see if he has more to say.
“Crank?”
“Yes?”
“You didn’t drive here, did you?”
I bite back a groan. “I took a rideshare.”
“Good. Take one home as well.”
Obviously. I don’t need him to tell me how to behave. But I hold my tongue because Coach truly cares. I can’t snap at him for that.
You just snapped at your teammate forthe same reason.
I pinch the bridge of my nose and huff out a breath. This sucks, but I’ll wait until I get home for a full pity party. I finally get to the locker room without another incident. Everyone is probably out on the ice, so I count from the first locker, then take a moment to sit in solitude.
