Most of all, I want to find some dipshit kid named Josh in Southern California and make him regret all his life choices.
I settle for rubbing Jamie's back and petting his hair as he lets out what seem to be long-held tears. We never get around to watching the film – it was mostly an excuse, anyway. The temptation to keep him in my room, to wrap him up and keep him safe, is almost too much.
Instead, I let him leave, spending most of the rest of the night staring at my ceiling. In the past few weeks, I'd come to understand that Jamiewasn'tthe in-your-face type I'd originally feared. For all that I'd worried about him seeking out the press, getting his face everywhere, I'd realized that wasn't really his jam.
And now I know why.
Part of me feels elated – now that I know why he's out, I can be alotless worried about him dragging me with him. He'll probably be totally on board with the no-strings hookups I had started to hope for.
But most of me? Most of me feels angry.Irate, even.
The night is long and restless, and it shows on the ice at practice the next morning. My passes aren't connecting, and I'm missing checks all over the place.
After one particularly horrifying drill where I completely fail to set a screen, Alexei calls for a water break and, before I can skate away, snags my jersey.
“Ethan, my friend. You are playing like rookie. You are playingworsethan rookie. You are playing like grandpa who bought himself a PTO. What's wrong?”
I heave a sigh.
“I'm fine. Just had trouble sleeping. I'll take a nap this afternoon, I promise.”
“Trouble sleeping? Thought you and Jamie Carter were watching film. God knowsI'dbe bored to tears by that. Should have been best sleep of your life.”
Of course he'd remember my plans last night.
“We, uh, ended up talking. About his experiences in the league so far. Made me think about my behavior during camp, about how I wasn't as...welcoming as I could have been.”
This is a gamble. I can't tell him what we actually talked about – and Idefinitelycan't tell him what happened after Carter's housewarming party – but he already knows aboutthis, so maybe it will stave off the questions.
Sure enough, he gives me a brief nod.
“Is good to think about what we could do differently. Better. But is also ok to forgive yourself. Remember that.”
I pat his shoulder, unexpectedly grateful to hear he doesn't think less of me for how the beginning of the season went down. As I skateback to the bench, Carter raises an eyebrow at me, as if to ask if everything is okay. I give him a reassuring smile, hoping that soon it will be.
Back at the hotel,I sleep like a rock. When my alarm goes off at four, I feel considerably more alert than I did this morning. As we line up to get on the bus to the arena, I think for a moment of sitting next to someone else –anyoneelse. Surely, I can think of a reason I need to talk to Coach or Alexei for twenty minutes?
Apparently I can't – or won't –- because I end up next to Jamie as usual. Evenhelooks a little surprised at this, as though after last night and this morning's disaster of a practice, I would want to be somewhere else.
“You good?” he asks, arching an eyebrow. His voice is casual, but I see a look of worry in his eyes that's more familiar in my own.
“Yeah. Sorry I was such a dumbass at practice this morning. I'm feeling better now.”
At this, the corner of his mouth quirks up.
Carolina is having a great season, but so are we. For two periods, the game is tied at zero in spite of the best efforts of our forwards. At the beginning of the third, Carolina sneaks one under Alexei's pads and for a moment I think he's going to break his stick in frustration. Instead, he heaves three big breaths and taps the pipes, getting back into the zone.
As we skate out for the faceoff, I grab Carter's sleeve.
“Hey, Carter – think you can tie this up for Kovalenko?”
He looks to where Alexei is roughing up the crease.
“Yeah, Cap. I got you.”
Sure enough, he wins the faceoff and drops a blind pass back to Sutter. Near the goal, Lindy is finding space, setting up to receive a pass and tip it in. Their defense sees it, too, descending upon him to block the shot. What they don't seem to see is Carter looping backbehind Sutter, snagging the puck from him. For a moment, I'm not even sure Sutter knows what's happening. He changes his stick position, buying Jamie a few seconds more with some fake puck-handling. By the time Carolina realizes he doesn't have it anymore, Jamie is coming around the back of the goal and nudging the puck in between the goalie and the post.
As the horn blares, I can't help but rush at Jamie and lift him off his skates in a hug. Soon, Sutton, Lindy, and Mac crash into us from all sides to celebrate the game-tying goal. As the cheers die down, I can hear Alexei yelling from the other end of the ice.
