Page 3 of In Your Wake

Am I all right? I am fucking fantastic.

“Never better,” I reply with a smooth smile and keep my eyes on her curvy ass as she walks down the aisle.

When I sit back, a twinge flares in my hip and I hiss. This shitty injury that refuses to heal properly is why I’m being shuffled around the NHL. I’m also heading back to the hometown I’ve avoided for thirteen years to see my dad who’s dying of cancer. And to top it all off, I’m opening a brewery with my best friends, one of whom is the brother of a woman I promised myself I’d never see again.

So, am I all right with jumping waist-deep into a pile of soul-disturbing issues the minute this plane lands? Yeah, sure, I can’t fucking wait.

I get another email from Phil, my agent—Adams, believe me. You’ll get something.

Adams.

Mitch, to my close friends and family.

Bam-Bam Adams to the rest of the world. An unfortunate nickname the press gave me years ago when I got my reputation for being a scrapper. But they have it all wrong. I’m not the tough asshole they see on TV, or the guy who picks fights and starts shit just to get a penalty.

I’m not Bam-Bam. I’m a good guy who needs to defend and help the people closest to me—my teammates. Or at least the ones who considered me their friend before I started losing games. Back when I was a twenty-year-old rookie and star player.

Now I’m nothing but dead weight. I continue to lie about the pain in my hip, denying how it makes playing damn near impossible. But I refuse to tell the league. This secret is the difference between a new deal or forced, early retirement. And despite Phil’s indestructible faith in my abilities, the league won’t offer me shit once they find out I’m not healing right.

So, when Phil says I’ll ‘get something,’ I’ll be lucky to get a fruit basket.

I’m an injured thoroughbred being put out to pasture. Or worse—sent to the glue factory.

At this point, if they offered me a job driving the Zamboni, I might consider it. The ice is my home and where I belong. Where I want to be. Way more than Oakwhite Bay, that’s for sure. I don’t see myself quitting hockey for any reason.

The plane makes its descent into Hallstead, and I see the airport out my window. It’s nothing more than a tiny airstrip a few miles inland from the Atlantic coast.

I run a hand down my face, scratching my chin through my bushy beard, wondering what the hell I’m going to say when I get to my parents’ place? Will everything be the same, or will it be completely transformed and unrecognizable? More importantly, who will I bump into once I get to the small coastal town?

Panic creeps in, crushing my chest, but I remember that I’ll be seeing Hunter and Spencer soon. I’ll get to visit our new brewery in person and hug the guys and hang out. The thought of that alone replaces my anxiety with joy. Thinking about my brothers from other mothers is about the only thing that makes me happy these days. Getting to spend a few weeks with them will surely clear my head, and hopefully my soul, too.

But then there’s Maxine Nolan, Hunter’s baby sister, and I’m unquestionably not ready to see her again. She was a huge part of my life once, but she’s also a major reason I left and never looked back.

Mom tells me she’s taken on a more managerial role at the inn since Dad got sick, but that doesn’t explain why she didn’t leave years ago. Who does she think she is sticking around, helping my parents out, when she played a part in breaking them up? Instead of sticking around after high school, I wish she’d taken off. Gone to college. Disappeared from their lives.

Sort of like I did.

Frowning, I drop my head. I can’t be mad at her for staying and handling what was my responsibility. I can’t be mad, but I can sure as hell resent her for swooping in and doing what I undoubtedly should have done. How dare she make me look bad after what she did?

Whatever happens during this trip, I need to remind myself why I left in the first place. What broke us apart. Why I couldn’t take care of it all.

And I’m definitely not the one who needs to make the first move.

Still, even after thirteen years, I can picture her so vividly in my mind, as if she’s sitting beside me. And exactly like back then, conjuring her image makes my blood pump harder and my hands sweaty.

Put me in shoot-outs, one slap-shot away from winning the series, and I’m perfectly calm.

Put me in a breakaway with crazy-boy Malenkov on my tail and vengeance in his eyes, and I’ll laugh it off.

But put me in the same town as Maxine, and every kind of unspeakable emotion and anxiety tears me down.

I shake my head as the wheels touch the ground. The plane bumps down the runway, sending sharp jolts of pain to my hip.

Maxine used to motivate me to go to school every day instead of cutting class. She was the reason I smiled and dared to laugh. And I’ve always hated my laugh. It’s too loud and gruff. But she’s also linked to the terrible memories. To the heartache. To the mess that shoved me away from Oakwhite.

Our last summer together should have been one of the best of my life. Instead, Maxine turned it into a clusterfuck of drama and turmoil. She’s the catalyst that changed me from an uncertain, doubtful boy to a driven, but bitter-hearted man. She represents everything I hate about quiet small towns, the sea, and tiny, freckled redheads.

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