Cally and I love her.That part is not in question.The problem is everything around it—our pride, our history, the way we keep turning love into a fight and calling it protection.
I swallow what I don’t say.
If she asks us to leave, I don’t know if I can.
If she asks us to stay, I don’t know if we deserve it.
ChapterEighteen
Alberto
If there’s one thing I’ve learned as a goalie, it’s that you have to expect the unexpected, and still be ready to control everything.
The puck doesn’t care about your strategy.It doesn’t announce its intentions before it kicks off a stick and comes at your face at a speed that makes you question every choice you’ve ever made.
Hockey is unpredictable.Probably one of the biggest reasons I crave control.That and obviously my childhood, but that’s a trauma for a therapist.
Though you know what’s not good for a goalie?Someone with no discipline.Someone reckless, impulsive—someone like Vesper Anaïs Lafontaine.
Love her dearly.Nope, I adore the woman, but she throws my balance off.
A puck, at least, has a simple mission.Find the net.Vesper?Vesper disappears into herself.She goes quiet.She smiles like she’s fine and then proves she isn’t in a bathroom that smells like expensive soap and panic.
Leaving her at the apartment so we can attend the team meeting feels like stepping onto the ice without my mask.
It’s not rational.I know that.
She’s safe.She’s inside.She has water, crackers, a couch that could swallow a person whole, and two bedrooms.The chef arrived early today to make a light breakfast and some snacks.Surprisingly, the food is excellent and he can handle the meals for someone with morning sickness.
Cally insisted Harvey send someone—“a check-in person,” he called it, like there’s a standard way to sayplease don’t let her be alone with her thoughts right now.This CIP, as he called them, will accompany Ves to today’s appointments.I hate that neither one of us can be with her, but we have a commitment to fulfill.
Next week will be harder because all the games will be away.I hate that it’s happening and I probably have to make a few calls to my teammates to figure out how they handle everything while their pregnant wives stay home while they’re on the road.They’re probably fine, but none of them is Vesper.The woman I would gladly put in a bubble-wrapped home where she wouldn’t get hurt.
The most infuriating part about it is that she would never allow it.She’d say, “Fuck you, Alberto, I’m going to do whatever the fuck I want,” with that defiant look she throws when people try to control her.
Right now, she’s curled on her side on the couch, wearing oversized pajamas that make her look younger.Her phone is in a bowl of rice on the counter because she dropped it in the tub and then announced, with a straight face, that she’s starting a new trend: “hydrotherapy for electronics.”
Her humor is doing its job.Distracting.Deflecting.
Harvey promised to have a new phone with the CIP.It’s set so she can call her phone provider and connect it.I don’t understand how the technology works but if he says it’s not required to change her to Cally’s or my phone provider, I believe him.
It’s time for us to leave and this is driving me fucking crazy.
Callaway is by the door.He’s trying to look like himself—casual, charming, easy—but his knee won’t stop bouncing.He keeps checking his phone like the screen might say something that makes this all make sense.
He catches me looking at her and his face shifts.“Let’s go, Montoya.We can be quick,” he says, like he’s offering me a compromise.
“We can’t,” I answer.
Like they’re going to let us just take the jerseys and come back home immediately.My skates are already there.They’re probably going to make us skate around—even train with the team.
Plus, they have to use our story.
Rivals.
Rival goalie and forward, forced to share the same colors.Forced to smile.Forced to pretend that history is a marketing asset and not a threat.
It’s our first day in the building.Plus, our first game is tomorrow.
