Page 27 of Puck Me Back to Life

I grin. “Of course I did.”

“No.” The smile on his face grows. “You didn't.”

“Sure I did.”

“Okay.”

Hayes folds his arms.

“What was the second recommendation?”

I open my mouth. “The Great...Something”

His smile immediately widens.

“You have no idea.”

I point at him. “In my defense, you used a lot of book words.”

“Book words?”

“Very technical stuff.”

Hayes laughs. This time the sound is completely genuine. And for one brief second, he looks younger. Lighter. Like the weight he's carrying slips off his shoulders.

The moment doesn't last long, but at least I got to see it. And once I've seen it, I can't forget it.

Suddenly, I'm certain of something: The man sitting across from me isn't broken. Not entirely. Buried under all that guilt and grief and self-hatred is somebody worth knowing. Somebody smart. Somebody funny. Somebody who still lights up when you ask him about books. And for reasons I don't fully understand, I find myself wanting to see that version of Hayes again.

We won our out-of-town game overtime. The game is ugly in all the ways hockey fans secretly love. There are big hits, bad calls, momentum swings, and just enough drama to guarantee the highlights will run for the next two days. By the time we get back to the hotel, the team is riding high.

Guys are loud in the elevator. Loud in the lobby. Loud everywhere.

Dante is already organizing some kind of celebration before we've even gotten off the bus. I make it upstairs, shower, change clothes, and head down to the hotel bar with everyone else.

The place is packed. Music hums from hidden speakers. Players occupy three different tables. Drinks are already appearing. The atmosphere is exactly what you'd expect after a road win.

And Hayes is nowhere to be found. I tell myself I'm only looking because he's become predictable. Everybody else celebrates with the team. Hayes disappears. Sure enough, after about fifteen minutes of scanning the room, I spot him.

Not with us. Not even close. He's tucked into a corner booth near the back of the bar where the lighting is dimmer and the noise doesn't quite reach. And he's reading. At a hotel bar. After a road win. I laugh into my drink. Then I order a second one and head over.

Kai doesn't even notice me sit down. His attention is completely absorbed by whatever book he's holding. I slide the drink toward him. Nothing. I wait.

Finally, without looking up, he reaches for the glass. “Thanks.”

He takes a sip. Turns a page. Continues reading.

I stare at him. The man genuinely forgot I exist less than ten seconds after thanking me. It's strangely endearing.

A few minutes pass, and I play around on my phone so he has time to finish his book. Eventually, he reaches the final page. His eyes move slower. Finally, he closes the book and exhales softly.

Only then does he look up. “Oh.” A faint blush appears. “Sorry.”

“You ignored me.”

“I was almost done.” He looks at the drink in his hand slightly confused.

“I gathered.”