She’s blushing and tears of laughter are swimming in her beautiful brown eyes. I put my hand to the back of her head and kiss her forehead gently. I make sure to let her go quickly and step away so the gesture is friendly, nothing more.
“Have a good trip. I expect a goal a game, Garrison. Nothing less,” she commands.
“I’ll do my best,” I promise her as my airport car pulls up behind her. “If you need anything while I’m gone or you’re bored or whatever, call me or text me.”
It’s weird. I have never told her that before. And I know I don’t have to tell her now. If the house burned down or something happened to Conner or whatever, she would get in touch with me. I guess now I’m reminding her it’s okay if she wants to talk to me without a disaster attached to it.
As fucked up as last night was, she pulled me back from the edge of complete self-destruction. I don’t know how far I am from that edge, but it’s farther than I was before last night. I don’t want to slip back.
She nods and winks. “And remember, when in doubt—cold shower.”
I laugh and slip into the backseat as the driver loads my bag into the trunk. I watch her climb the steps to the front door and admire the swing of her narrow hips and the perfect round shape of her ass. Then I give my head a shake as the driver heads toward JFK.
Chapter 25
Callie
The next night I sit alone in the living room with a glass of Pinot and a big bowl of my favorite pepper Parmesan pasta and watch the Barons–Ice Dogs game. My eyes follow the puck on the TV as Devin skates with it down the ice, making a picture-perfect pass to Donahue, who takes a screaming shot that hits the post. My phone vibrates on the coffee table with a text from Jessie. She wants to know how things are with Devin and me. As I text her back and tell her we’re all good and just friends (again), nothing to worry about, the captain of the Hamilton Ice Dogs scores so they’re now leading 2–1. There are only seconds left in the second period. A goal like that is a real morale killer. I swear under my breath as the camera shows a close-up of Devin skating to the bench with a hard scowl on his face.
In the third period the Barons come out full of intensity and get an early goal to tie it up. Devin has an assist on the goal, which makes me clap and bounce on the couch. By the end of the third it’s still tied. Halfway through the five-minute overtime, Devin intercepts a Hamilton pass and makes a break for it. He’s so fast and determined I know, even before his stick pulls back and slaps the puck, that it will sail easily through the goalie’s legs and hit the back of the net—which is exactly what it does. I squeal and jump off the couch.
Later that night as I brush my teeth, my mind is on Devin. If I’m honest with myself, I’ve been thinking of him more than I should be since he left on this road trip. I’m worried about him but I’m also still a little flustered about that whole shower thing. We seemed to leave things on good, friendly ground again, like I told Jessie, but until we go about our normal daily routine—with both of us under the same roof again—I won’t know for certain that things are okay.
I crawl into bed and send him a text message.You didn’t score in Montreal but the OT game winner in Hamilton makes up for that. However if you don’t score in regulation in Ottawa, don’t come home. ;-)
Before I can even put the phone back down, he’s responded.Typical Callie Control Freak, telling me how to play. FYI—I’ll score twice next time.
I laugh.
Two days later, after the Barons win in Ottawa, the theme to the horror movieHalloweenslices through the darkness of my room at three in the morning and I fly from my bed, suddenly wide awake. Fuck. It’s November. I keep forgetting to change that damn ring tone. I snatch my cell from the nightstand and see Devin’s number lighting up my screen.
“Holy fuck, you just gave me a heart attack,” I say breathlessly as I fall back onto my rumpled bed.
“Sorry. I’ll let you go.” He’s slurring his words and I can hear a slight echo.
“No. It’s okay!” I respond quickly. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. No.”
I feel my body tense. “Where are you?”
“In the bathroom of my hotel room,” he admits. “Contemplating a cold shower.”
I smile. “Are you alone?”
“Loops is passed out in the hotel room,” he replies, still slurring. “But yeah. I’m alone. You’re still the only girl I take cold showers with.”
I laugh. “What happened, Dev?”
“Ashleigh called. And I told her…” He takes a deep ragged breath. “I think we’re going to get divorced.”
“I think you are too,” I reply honestly.
“So I failed.”
“She failed you. You failed at nothing,” I argue softly.
“I failed Conner,” he mumbles in a whisper, and I know he’s close to tears.
