“You could bring her,” Fly says. “Is she here? Jordo is bringing Malia.”
“Nah, Sarah’s got her art show tomorrow. She’s barely left her studio in days, which means she won’t want to go out tonight.”
It’s an easy excuse, and it’s mostly true. But at some point, my teammates are going to wonder why my wife has never watched me play. And I have no idea what I’m going to tell them because I don’t know either. This is one of those areas Sarah and I very carefully avoid in conversation.
I shower and get dressed on autopilot, my mind on Sarah the whole time. She was painting when I left for the game, totally absorbed in her work.
She’s probably barefoot, probably wearing one of my old t-shirts—she’s developed a habit of stealing them out of the dryer despite our rule that she not wear my clothes. Her hair is probably piled on top of her head, a paintbrush stuck through the back, and she’ll definitely be wearing her glasses.
I’m guessing she’ll have a mug of tea sitting next to her easel. And she’ll have no idea where her phone is. I’ve called her at least a dozen times in the past two weeks just so shecan follow the sound of the vibration around the house until she finds it again.
I make eye contact with Miles one last time before he heads out for post-game interviews. Based on his glare, you’d think he was staring right into my brain, seeing how frequently his sister is filling my thoughts.
I’m only half dressed, still shirtless and barefoot, but instead of looking away, I glare right back. If Miles has an actual problem with me, he can own it and tell me what it is. I won’t let him intimidate me when I’ve only done exactly what he asked me to do.
“What was that about?” Holly asks after Miles leaves. Coach Kimzey wanted our backup goalie to get some ice time, so Holly didn’t play tonight, but he still geared up for the game just in case. As a result, he looks a lot less tired than the rest of us.
“No clue,” I say. “He’s been looking at me like that since the wedding.”
“Have you told Sarah? What does she think?” Holly asks.
“Nah, I don’t want her to worry about it,” I say. “If it starts to affect our gameplay, I’ll bring it up with Miles myself. But I don’t think it will come to that.”
Holly grabs his shoes and sits down to put them on. “He’s probably just trying to intimidate you. Make sure you’re behaving.” He shoots me a look. “Which…are you?”
I retrieve my wallet and keys and shove them into my pockets. “You’d think the rules were tattooed on my eyelids for how closely I’m following them,” I grumble.
Holly chuckles. “Hang in there, man.” His phone buzzes, and he pulls it out of his pocket, frowning when he glances at the screen.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
He nods. “Yeah. Just—Charlie’s with her grandparents for spring break. She’s not having a very good time.”
“With Claire’s parents?” I ask, and he nods. Charlie loves Holly’s parents, but it’s been rockier navigating their relationship with his in-laws since Claire died.
“I flew her up to Montreal on Sunday,” Holly says. “My parents will get her on Thursday, then keep her until Sunday when they’ll fly her home. She’ll be all right, but I’ve never been away from her this long.”
“That sucks, man,” I say. “I’m sorry.” I hesitate a beat before asking, “Do you want to grab a beer? Talk about it?”
He gives me a knowing look. “You don’t mean that.”
“Of course I do.”
He pats me on the back as he moves to the door. “Go home to your wife. I’m turning into an old man anyway. Once it gets this late, I don’t want to go anywhere but home.”
I’m surprised by how much I relate to his comment. But my desire to go home has everything to do with who will be there when I arrive.
On my way out of the arena, I pass by the family room. The doors are open as people spill in and out, teammates searching to find their people. Jordo is just inside the door, arms around his fiancée, and a twinge of jealousy pulses behind my ribs.
Jealousy I can never admit to, because as far as anyone else is concerned, I’m going home to a wife. Even if it’s just on paper, it still chafes that she’s never here. That in this one aspect, she isn’t willing to pretend.
Theo comes up beside me and claps me on the back, and I realize I’ve been staring at Jordo. “You all right?” he asks, and I quickly nod.
“Yeah, I’m good.”
Behind him, Fly is waiting. I guess just the two of them are going out.
Theo narrows his eyes at me, like he can sense I’m not telling the whole truth, but there’s no reason to get into it here. Talking won’t change anything about my situation.
