I didn’t bother turning on the lights in my dark bedroom, I just walked her to my bed and gently laid her down. She stayed peacefully sleeping as I carefully pulled off her shoes and draped a blanket over her. On the edge of the bed, I left out a pair of boxers, a big t-shirt, and flannel pants just in case she wanted to change.
It was only when I was exiting the bedroom that she stirred awake. “Where are you going?”
I turned back to see her sitting up and rubbing her sleepy eyes.
“I was going to take the couch.” I hitched a thumb toward the hallway.
She studied me for a beat. “You can stay,” she said softly. “I mean, if you want.”
“You’re sure?” I asked a bit too eagerly, but I couldn't help myself, all I wanted was to be near her. While I always felt protective of her, it’s like my instincts were kicked into high gear today.
With a little nod, she grabbed the clothes at the edge of the bed and wandered into the bathroom.
I padded back over to the bed and gently laid on top of the covers, not wanting to disrupt her and make her change her mind.
“Thank you,” she murmured when she climbed back into bed wearing my t-shirt and boxers.
I wanted to say so many things at that moment, but I settled on saying, “No problem, Al.”
She turned on her side to face the wall away from me, and I figured she drifted back to sleep. But a couple minutes later, she whispered, “Hans is gone.”
The heaviness of the day settled in my chest and the ceiling above me blurred. “Yeah.” I struggled to keep my voice even. “Hans is gone.”
“I feel so…” She turned to face the ceiling. “Guilty. I never came back to see him.” Her face pinched in pain. “Do you think he’d be mad that I ran away from his celebration?” she asked in a strained voice.
My heart pretty much cracked in my chest. “No, Ali. He knew you were a runner. He still loved ya.”
She faced me and I’m not sure if it was my doing or hers, but the space between us quickly disappeared. She blubber cried into my chest while I rubbed her back in slow circles and fought my own tears. I tucked her head under my chin and held her there while her body shook. In the back of my mind, I knew she was clinging to me in a way that was way past friendship territory, but I wasn’t about to point that out to her and risk ruining the shaky balance we found today. She could call us ‘friends’ because that’s what we were, even though it wasn’tallwe were. Yes, she was my best friend, but I also loved her in every way a person could love someone. I was determined to be there for her in any way she’d let me.
It clicked to me then while I continued stroking her hair that us being here together was all Hans’ doing.
Hans was the one who orchestrated Colt and Mer getting back together. A few years ago, he saw that Colt had signed Lucy up for figure skating lessons. He was the one who assigned Mer as her coach so they’d have to face each other again.
And Hans was the one who gave Piper and Kappy private ice times so they could skate together without anyone else passing judgment.
And in a weird twist of fate, he was the one who brought Ali home to me.
Thinking back to our last conversation, I couldn't help but feel like Hans knew this was going to happen. He made me promise to help her when she had to stop running.
I shouldn’t have been surprised. This wasn’t the first time Hans helped us face each other again after a fight…
_________
2012
For the next few weeks after Ali and the girls came to visit us, I couldn’t focus my brain on hockey to save my life. Thoughts of Ali and Rossi swamped my brain. I hated how small and sad she looked on my couch. I hated Rossi and the way he was changing her, making her feel less than. And I hated myself for being too chickenshit to start dating her when I had the chance. And the only outlet for my anger was the ice. I threw my body into the corners, wanting to smash anyone in sight. Each game, I pretended every opponent was Rossi. I didn’t care if people had the puck or not, which resulted in a lot of penalties, but I didn't give a shit.
After coming back to the bench during a late game in Hamilton in February, Coach clapped me on the back. “Good aggression, McQuaid. I like the fight in you tonight.”
Kappy moved around a couple guys, messing up the lineup and definitely skipping his own shift just so he could sit next to me. I cocked an eyebrow at him.
“You good?” he asked, giving me a hard stare.
“Yeah, why?” I squirt water into my mouth.
“You’re being a little reckless out there.” He eyed me warily. “They’ve got your number, JP.”
I shrugged off his concern. “I’ve got theirs.”
