“Oh.” Her cheeks heated. “Then you’re lucky, I guess.” She shrugged.
“I will never understand her,” I swore.
“Then pity her.”
My eyes snapped to hers.
“Because she missed out on knowing you.” She gave me a soft smile, and the next thing she did really blew me away: she interlaced her fingers with mine to hold my hand.
My mouth gaped open as I stared at our joined hands. Her hand was warm and soft in mine.
“Uh…my hand probably smells bad.” I cleared my throat and looked away. “From my glove.” It was only right to warn her. I sometimes struggled to clear the smell away after games.
She laughed again but didn’t let go.
I swallowed hard. The only time I was ever really touched was on the other side of a punch when roughhousing with my buddies or fighting on the ice. My dad and I weren’t touchy people at all—the last time we hugged was probably when I was in the fifth grade.
I knew my buddies would roast me if I ever admitted it, but I liked holding her hand.
“Dude, wake the fuck up,” she said.
I stared at her.
“Wake up!” she shouted, but she had a guy's voice. “C’mon!”
Shock rocked into me, jolting me from my sleep.
“Wake the fuck up!”Richard Kappers, one of my best friends, yelled at me.
“Oh, fuck off, Kappy,” I groaned. “I never should’ve given you a key,” I grumbled at him.
“No, no more sleeping. C’mon, let’s go, let’s get hype!” Kappyripped open the blackout window shades right beside my bed and the harsh bright light assaulted my fucking eyes. I flopped over on my stomach, hoping he’d leave me alone.
“No, let’s not get hype. What have we talked about, Richard?” his girlfriend, Piper, said, trying to calm him down.
“I know, baby, but I can’t always be demure,” he complained.
“Demure?” I snickered with my eyes still closed, then felt a pillow hit the back of my head—surely Kappy’s doing.
“He gets upset when I tell him to calm down, so we’re trying out different words,” Piper told me.
Ah, that made sense. Kappy was diagnosed with ARVC, a genetic heart disease, just a couple months ago. If it were up to him, he’d completely ignore his health and continue living off fast food and playing in the NHL, but his girlfriend, Piper, was determined to make him live a healthy lifestyle, one compatible with his condition.
“Let’s go,” Kappy said. “We told Colt and Mer that we’d drive you to the party, and I wanna get there already.”
“What time is it?” I rubbed my eyes, trying to wipe away my sleep, but my dream still haunted me. Why would my brain betray me like that? Why dream about Ali when I hadn’t seen her in years?
Maybe because she was now my only dream, my only goal, left unaccomplished. I made it to the NHL with my buddies, and my team, the Windy City Whalers, finally won the Stanley Cup Championship game last night. But me and Ali…that never happened, and it never would.
It was just too bad my brain wouldn’t let me forget that one last failure. Each and every time I got close to another woman, my memories of her would slam into my mind, making me ditch out.
I wondered if she ever dreamed about me. I wondered if she ever moved on with anyone else, or if she—
“It’s 11 a.m., too late to be in bed.” Kappy yanked my blanket off me. “Come on, it’s time to party, dude.”
“We were up until 3 a.m.,” I complained, rubbing my temples. “How the hell do you have so much energy?”
“Uh, maybe because while you and Colt have been playing the last couple weeks, I’ve been stuck going in and out of the hospital, getting poked and prodded to within an inch of my life. I finally get a free pass this weekend, so let’s go.”
