Page 69 of He Has Pluck

She leaves when Coach and Rafe return from the official press conference. Someone brings in pizza and beer, and I shower while some of the guys eat. I take an extra-long time to let the hot water wash away what it can, the sweat and some of the hopes, maybe a fraction of the disappointment. But filling the hole where my Stanley Cup dreams were will take more than a shower.

My mind automatically goes to Juliette in my bed, and for the first time since the game went south in the third period, I smile. When I dry off and dress, I’m one of the last to finish dressing, but no one’s left. Coach is making the rounds, talking to each of the guys and thanking them for what they did this season. All in all, Coach Green is a classy guy.

I hope like fuck I get to play for him again, that when he gets to me, he’s not saying see you later; it’s been swell.

“You have plans for tonight?” Finn asks as he sits next to me, looking particularly dapper in his street clothes like he had big plans for the night. I shake my head, then yell at myself because I do have a plan, and it doesn’t include him or anyone on the team.

“Me and Vickie were going out with her family.” He shrugs. “Not so sure I want to go now.” He looks around.

This is the most subdued I’ve ever seen him. I clap him on the back. “Forget dinner. Eat pizza and have a couple of beers with me here. Then we’ll each go home with our women and console ourselves the best way there is.”

He laughs. “I think you have the right idea. Nothing more important or grounding than the love of a good woman.”

I flinch at his words, at the word “love” in particular, because it scares me. I don’t know about love, whether I’m in love or not. I only know I care about Juliette and want her in my life, no matter if that means I need to make a few compromises here and there. Not sure what that looks like. My gut tells me that’s a problem as it clenches.

“Going home sounds good right now,” I say.

“Speaking of that, you thinking about buying a place?” Finn asks. “Because I’m in a great neighborhood in East Boston.”

“I have a place to live.”

“That one-room shithole?”

I give him the finger because the place is home and cheap, and even though he assumes I will, I don’t know if I’ll still be on the team next season. Management could send me back to Portsmouth, back down to the AHL.

I plan to stay for the off-season because I’m kind of attached to the place. The ghostly remnants of lovemaking with Juliette are part of the walls, the creaks in the floors sounding like moans of pleasure, and every time I step inside, I swear my dick stands up, and a wave of pleasure hits me just breathing the air, whether the scent of sex is real or in my head. The place is charged with the leftovers from our sexual energy, the intense force of our desire released and suffusing the atmosphere.

“That place is good for now,” I say. As long as I have Juliette with me.

He laughs. “I get it. You don’t want to give up the love-shack vibe.”

I give him the finger again, my smirk betraying me.

Coach comes over and puts out a hand to Finn. “Finnegan, great season. A pleasure as always. Keep up that positive attitude. A lot of us count on it.” Finn nods.

“Thanks, Coach. I’ll think of you in the off-season every time I tell a joke.” He grins, and Coach chuckles, then turns to me.

“Jason, I’m glad we brought you up for the playoffs. You fit in well and showed a lot of promise. Keep it up, son; you’ll go far.”

“Thank you, sir. It’s been an honor playing for you…for the Brawlers.” I button my mouth and don’t dare say another word, don’t ask him what I’m screaming to know. Are you bringing me back for another season, Coach?

This isn’t the time or place, and he probably doesn’t know the answer. He may not even be the decision-maker. There’s often a lot of deck-shuffling at the end of a season, especially when a team doesn’t meet its goals. And even as lofty as it was, the goal of the Brawlers this season was to win the Stanley Cup, to make it to the finals at the very least, and we didn’t do it.

Fuck. Even the thought of it stings like a son of a bitch, like someone just threw acid on a deep, fresh wound.

Coach shakes my hand and moves on. The equipment manager pushes the pizza cart past us, and Finn grabs two slices of pizza. I take one, but there’s no way I can eat it. Before Finn says anything, I grab a beer and take a long thirsty gulp as if it might help, but even I know it’s nothing but false courage.

It’s not losing the game that has me most on edge. It’s facing up to exactly what kind of relationship I have with Juliette, what kind of commitment I want to make, and whether she’ll be on the same page, that’s making me feel like I have shards of glass lining my skin.

* * *

Juliette is waiting for me when I’m finally ready to leave the locker room. I’ve said goodbye to everyone, bro-hugged and even shook Tony’s hand. It wasn’t easy because every time someone said they’d see me next season, my uncertainty cut deeper.

As soon as I meet her eyes, a knot of emotion clogs my throat, and there will be no talking. I sweep her into my arms, and with her camera bag slung over her shoulder, we head to the garage exit and my old Mustang. As soon as I start the car, I turn on the radio and crank up the volume. She glances at me, and with her hand on my thigh, still and firm, and she sits back in her seat and closes her eyes for the ride home. Home?

Yes, with her, it feels like home. They say home is where the heart is, and my heart pounds as we walk through the door, and I admit to myself as I face her that she is my heart.

“No talking,” I say, not asking permission to put it off again. She doesn’t say a word.