“It’s our last night here. I’ll call Adam as soon as we’re home,” I promise. Bea nods.
“Okay,” she says. “What are you going to tell everyone?”
“The truth?” I shrug. I pull back to look into her eyes, soft and full of love. “I’m working on things. I haven’t had a nightmare since the hospital, and those felt more like unwelcome memories. This is something new, and I’m going to figure out what the trigger was.”
“The boys did go skating earlier,” Bea considers, and I nod. After lunch, Bea and I made use of the sauna while everyone else went to a nearby rink for some ice time.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go?” I ask Bea as she pins her hair up in our bathroom.
“I don’t even know how to skate, Nikita. What good is going to the rink for me if you’re not there?”
Wrapping my arms around her from behind, I press a kiss to her shoulder. “I’m going to teach you one day.”
Bea smiles in our reflection, her hands rubbing mine, wrapped around her waist.
“Promise you won’t let me fall? I’m so scared of that,” she admits. I squeeze her, considering.
“That fear is normal, but you have to know: You’re going to fall,” I tell her. Her face drops, so I spin her and cradle her cheeks in my hands. I press a kiss to her lips. “But I’ll pick you up if you do.”
I scan my memory to see if I can pinpoint any unusual feelings, but come up blank.
“Maybe,” I offer before pressing a kiss to her nose. She steps back, and I rise, throwing the shirt over my head.
My friends are sprinkledaround the living room, some with cups of coffee in hand, as I drop onto the floor in front of Bea. Behind me on the couch, she pulls her legs up so I can lean back, my head resting gently in her crisscrossed legs as I gather my thoughts. She bends forward to brush her lips against mine, the taste of her tea lingering when she pulls back.
Across from me, Violet is snuggled in an oversized chair with Crosby. She rests her head on his chest, but keeps her eyes on me, an alertness there telling me she’s paying attention. Crosby is steady and silent, his arms winding around his fiancée, but he sends me an encouraging nod.
On one couch next to them are Obie, Gus, and Leo in a row. Each of them sips from a mug or yawns, but they wait patiently for me to start.
Maeve sits next to Bea, off my left shoulder. She’s assimilated into our group with surprising ease over the last two days, and while I’m still getting to know her, I feel like she’s trustworthy. She gives me a small smile when I glance at her.
Charlie eschews the furniture, choosing to sit on the floor near the feet of my outstretched legs, his back against the coffee table. His arms wrap around his raised knees, wrists hanging loose.
“Well,” I begin hesitantly, praying the words find me as I wade into my explanation. “That’s never happened before; I’m really sorry for waking and worrying you.” I cross one ankle over the other. Bea’s hand drops to my shoulder, her thumb notching along the pulse there in silent comfort. I heave out a sigh.“Between the panic attack, this, and my ongoing therapy, I think it’s fair to say I’m not ready to come back yet.”
“But you will be.” Charlie lays a hand on my shin. “One day, you will be.”
“Will I?” My throat constricts, and my nose stings in a way I don’t like. I swallow hard, pushing down the anxiety at the root of my latest round of issues. I blink to keep the burn of tears at bay. “What if I can never play again? That scares the shit out of me.”
The room seems to collectively exhale, then struggle to breathe back in. That truth—thefear—ripples through everyone. I feel laid bare. More exposed than I was waking up from my nightmare. More than any questions I’ve answered for the camera.
Silence expands out from the center of the bomb I detonated. I’ve tried to be open and honest with the guys throughout my recovery, especially after the panic attack in the locker room. They know I’m in therapy, and they celebrated my win of watching their practice in the practice facility. But I know I’ve kept back my true feelings, only giving them in whispers to Bea in the dark of night.
“I’m going to leave The Midnight.” Bea’s voice floats, strong and clear from behind me. “At the end of the season. All my life, I’ve done exactly what I was supposed to do; I’ve checked all the boxes on the list. Until I moved here. The list didn’t seem so important after that. I have no idea what will happen, other than maybe having a chance to be truly happy, but I’m terrified.”
I reach up and close my hand over hers, squeezing, knowing what she just gave me. Validation for being afraid. Courage to share that with the people we care about. The people who support us. Pride begins to eat away at the fear, melding into something else. Solidarity and understanding that it’s possible to do things, even if I’m scared, because I am not alone.
“I don’t like coming here because I think about my dad, about how much I miss him. Every time I’ve tried, I just feel sad,” Crosby rasps. Violet snakes an arm around him and sucks in a breath. Crosby doesn’t talk about his dad often. I know he was killed when Crosby was barely a legal adult, but only Gus has heard the full story. I see some people squirm uncomfortably, and guilt wrestles in my own gut. We’ve spent two days here, and I never stopped to think about why we never have before. “But having all of you come up here with me this time? It’s replacing that sadness with new memories. Memories that feel like growing up here. It makes me nervous that I’ll forget him.”
Violet takes Crosby’s face in her hands, “He’s a part of you. That makes him unerasable.” Then she presses a sweet, reassuring kiss to his lips. When they pull apart, Crosby’s eyes are misty, and he clears his throat roughly.
“When I was applying for college, I didn’t stop to think that just because Icoulddoesn’t mean Ishould.” Maeve’s voice is tiny, reticent. It’s so unlike her usual personality that I twist to give her my full attention. Her head is propped on a closed fist as she leans on the arm of the couch. Her brown hair is pulled into a ponytail on the top of her head, and sadness is streaked across her features. “My life hasn’t even really started, but what if I’ve already made a mistake I can’t fix?”
Gus blurs past, climbing between Bea and Maeve, his arms wrapping around his little sister in a supportive hug. Maeve tenses for a moment before giving in. “Whatever it is, Bug, I’ll help you. I promise,” he tells her.
“I get weird messages in my DMs,” Charlie rumbles. He coughs and looks at the floor. “Every time I block the account, it’s like three more show up. It’s starting to freak me out a bit.”
“Charlie,” Violet calls, and he looks at her. The pair have had their own sibling-like closeness since the day they met. Now, Violet looks at him with a fierce protectiveness but speaks witha gentle tone. “Will you let me look at them? I can get the department to flag the accounts and block them across all social media platforms.”
