“I am. It’s been over a week. It feels weird, like we’re stuck in a bubble here.” I shrug. “But I’ve got to get back into the swing of my life and prepare for finals and graduation.”
“I don’t think I’m going back to finish classes,” he mumbles. “Just to see the guys and get my stuff. I need to find a place close to the Sabres’ practice facility and move in before I’m due to report for training.”
I blink in surprise. “You could at least finish the semester. You don’t have to be there until August, right?”
He shakes his head. “No point. Maybe I’ll transfer my credits and finish it online, but my job now is being a professional hockey player.”
The concept to just let it go unfinished is mind boggling to me after working my ass off to earn my degree. If Easton getsa draft pick, I wonder if he’ll feel the same. I’ve read over his papers and other assignments when we worked together. He was right about not slacking off in his classes.
“I’ll go pack up everything after I shower. Let’s head out early,” I say.
“Sure.”
“Thanks.”
“Hey,” he says before I walk away. “Are you okay?”
I run my fingers through my limp three-day old ponytail, nodding. “I think I will be.”
“Good. I don’t like to worry about you.”
I huff in amusement, then go to him and wind my arms around him in a crushing hug. He twists to return it.
“And what about you?”
He grunts and nods. “Yeah. Me too.”
“Good,” I parrot. “I don’t like worrying about you, either. Love you.”
“Love you too,” he says gruffly.
It feels good to return to Heston Lake. I’ve only been away for just over a week, yet it feels like it’s been ages.
I spend the morning emailing my professors and my advisor to apologize for my absence and explain the situation. Easton said he stopped by my classes, but I still want to tell them myself. My advisor replies to invite me for a meeting during office hours this week to get everything in order for my early graduation.
A relieved sigh escapes me. I flop back on my bed, balancing my laptop on my stomach.
The homepage for the student portal has a banner congratulating the hockey team for advancing to Frozen Four. The championship tournament begins next weekend.
Sitting back up, I check the ticketing sites for any available seats. They can be the crappiest seats, I’ll take them just to surprise Easton so he knows I’m there to cheer him on when he steps on the ice.
“Damn. Sold out for both games, really?”
I shouldn’t be shocked. Exhaling, I scour Facebook and auction sites for any opportunities. My stomach clenches when I find a listing.
Reagan comes in while I’m bidding and losing, close to emptying my savings account for these tickets.
“Come on,” I mutter. “No—No, no! Ugh!”
She sits on my bed. “What’s up?”
“I lost the tickets I was bidding on.”
“Concert tickets?”
I give her a flat look. “You know every concert playing before I do. No, hockey tickets. I wanted to figure out something last minute for Easton’s big game.”
“Oh, well lucky for you, I got you something.”
