You Had Me at Hockey (Bears Hockey)

by Kelly Jamieson

  “What the fuck?” Easton mutters.

  Lilly takes his arm. “Just talk to him, Easton.”

  Easton straightens. “Okay. I’ll talk to him. What the fuck is your problem?” He glares at Josh. “You’ve acted like we don’t know each other and you hate my guts ever since you got here. What the hell did I ever do to you? We used to be friends.”

  Josh’s face tightens and his eyes flicker. “What the hell did you ever do to me? You have to ask that question?”

  “Fuck yeah!”

  “Okay, here’s what you did to me. You deserted me. You never came to see me in the hospital. Never bothered to find out if I was okay. Never bothered to find out if I’d ever be able to play hockey again. I thought we were friends too, but apparently I was wrong.” He pauses. “You just went on about your life, getting drafted, playing in the NHL, and never looking back. Did you ever talk to Hunter? What about him?”

  Hunter? I don’t even know about Hunter. I meet Lilly’s eyes.

  “Did you ever talk to Hunter?” Easton challenges him.

  “I was kind of laid up,” Josh says bitterly. “But he disappeared off the face of the earth anyway.”

  “Until a few years ago,” Easton says.

  “Yeah.”

  “I didn’t fucking desert you,” Easton says. “I tried to text you and call you.”

  “When?”

  Easton closes his eyes. “I don’t remember.” Then he opens his eyes and they flare with anger. “I was going through my own shit, you know.”

  “You were fine! You walked away without a scratch, I heard. So did Hunter. Meanwhile, I was in the hospital for months.”

  Easton narrows his eyes and slowly moves his head from side to side. “You think that’s what happened?”

  “That’s what the news stories all said.”

  I bite my lip and meet Lilly’s eyes. They’re talking, yeah, but they’re both pissed. I suck in a breath and let it out slowly.

  “Okay, yeah, physically I was fine. But Bryce died in that crash too. I held him in my arms, trying to tell him he was going to be okay.”

  Josh’s face shifts, his mouth slackening, his eyes shadowing.

  “I kept telling him Dad would find us. I didn’t know my dad was lying twenty feet away in the ditch…dead.” Easton swallows. “And Bryce died on the way to the hospital. I found out when I got there. I found out about Dad”—his voice cracks and he shakes his head—“and everyone else who died. I saw you there. In the hospital. I talked to you.”

  Josh blinks slowly. “I don’t remember.”

  I slide my hand into his because he keeps clenching it into a fist. I squeeze gently.

  “I don’t remember much of that,” he admits. “I had a concussion.”

  “I wasn’t in great shape myself,” Easton says. “A lot of it is a blur. Then my mom came…and she totally fell apart. She ended up in the hospital herself.”

  Josh focuses on Easton, his mouth pulled down at the corners. “I didn’t know that.”

  “She’s never really gotten better. I mean, she’s a bit better, but she still lives in a home. She needs help. I lost my whole fucking family that day, man.” The anguish in his voice spears into my heart. “I had to plan their funerals. I didn’t know what I was doing. There was so much shit to take care of and my mom couldn’t do it. So I’m sorry if I was kind of busy.”

  Josh stares.

  Lilly makes a small sound in her throat. She glances at me and her eyes are wet.

  Easton swallows and looks away. “Yeah, I got drafted in June. And then I had to go to Vancouver for their prospect camp. Then training camp in the fall. I was focusing on hockey because that…was all I had left.” He returns his gaze to Josh. “You didn’t even know what I was going through, asshole.”

  Josh makes a noise. His jaw clenches. I squeeze his hand again, but he shakes it free. He turns to me and his lip curls.

  I take a step back at the fury in his eyes.

  “What the hell was this?” he demands. “You set us up for this?”

  My eyes dart around, taking in Lilly’s dismayed expression, the sullen set of Easton’s mouth, then back to Josh. I lift my chin. “Yes. Your own coach told you two you need to talk. But you won’t.”

  “How the hell do you know that?” he snarls.

  “Not because you told me,” I retort. “We’ve talked about a lot of things, but you never told me about Easton. You hinted at it. Lilly and I figured things out.”

  Josh’s expression turns even darker. “You two talked about this? About us?”

  I sense Lilly’s alarm.

  “Yes.” I hold his gaze steadily. “Because we care about you. Because we want to support you.”

  “Support me? This is what you call support? Jesus Christ.” He rubs his forehead. “This is none of your goddamn business.”

  I actually gasp at the hot pain that spears through me at his words. I take another step back.

  Lilly moves closer and touches my upper arm.

  My hands are shaking and my stomach hurts so much I think I might throw up. “I was trying to help,” I manage to croak.

  “Hellsy…” Easton says, his expression shifting from anger to unease.

  “Fuck you,” Josh says. “I’m outta here.”

  He pushes away from the bar and stalks off.

  I gape after him.

  “Oh shit,” Lilly murmurs. She lowers her head. “I’m sorry, Sara.”

  My mouth trembles. “It’s not your fault.”

  Lilly looks up at Easton. “Are you mad too?”

  His lips thin. “I’m not happy. But I get that your intentions were good.” He glances to where Josh has disappeared out the door and pulls in a long breath. “I never knew he felt that way.”

  “That’s why you needed to talk!” Lilly grabs his arm. “I’m sorry we surprised you, but I’m not sorry we did it.”

  “I’ll let you two sort that out,” I say, my voice shaky. I turn away.

  “Wait.” Lilly takes two steps toward me and hugs me. “He’ll get over it.”

  I don’t say anything. I don’t know if he will. I don’t know if I will. I try for a smile, and then I make my own escape from the bar, grabbing my purse and my jacket.

  The street outside is dark but cars and other businesses nearby light it up. I dart around people on the sidewalk. I can’t help but scan the area for Josh, but he’s nowhere to be seen. I spot the metro station for Uptown and jog across the street and down the stairs. I fumble in my purse for my card. On the narrow platform, I lean against the wall.

  Fuck. Shit. What just happened?

  I pull out my phone, thinking maybe Josh has texted me. Nothing.

  Do I want to text him?

  To be honest, I’m pissed. I was only trying to help. He’s the one with some kind of weird hang-up about Easton and what happened. He needs to deal with that. And not just because his coach told him to. It’s obviously something that’s been tormenting him for years.

  I’m also hurt. When he said that…that it was none of my business…that fucking hurt. I’m falling for this guy. Okay, I’ve fallen. Hard. Deep.

  He said I was his girlfriend.

  I cover my mouth as a small sob escapes. My shoulders hunch at the burn in my chest.

  I’m in love with Josh. I thought he felt the same. He said he was catching feelings, too.

  How did I get so lucky with you?

  But you can’t love someone or be truly intimate with someone if you’re hiding things or not being honest. If you have things that are none of the other person’s business. That’s not love.

  Sure, we’ve been intimate. Sex is definitely intimate. But secrets and lies make it just…sex. And that hurts too. Because I thought it was more.

  I hear the rumble of th
e train approaching, and the other people on the platform move closer to the edge. I push away from the wall and shake my hair back, swiping at my wet eyes. I’m not the only girl who’s ever sobbed on the train, I know that.

  I find a seat and slump into it for the ride. Sadness fills my limbs with heaviness as I think about all the time Josh and I have spent together. All the fun we’ve had together. But serious times too, talking about my business and my goals, his trepidation at the new team and new coach, his visits with Carter and how he’s been moved by them.

  I have to change trains at Times Square, and I move listlessly with the crowd. I just want to be home.

  I get this painfully hopeful idea that maybe Josh is there waiting for me. It turns out to be a stupid idea because he’s not. But at least I’m home, where I’m safe, where I can let my emotions flow and try to sort them out.

  I lay down on my bed, face in the pillow. My body aches and feels cold. After a while, I get up and change from my jeans and sweater into flannel jammies and socks, and I climb under the covers.

  I don’t know what to do next. I guess I should apologize to Josh for interfering in his life. That brings tears to my eyes again because it still hurts that he sees it that way, like I’m nobody to him, or maybe just a sex buddy who doesn’t get to have any input into his life. Did I misread things with us? Probably. I’ve never done this before…I’ve never gotten so close with someone, close enough to have sex, close enough to trust them with my heart.

  More pain washes through me, my throat throbbing. I curl onto my side, my fist pressed to my mouth. Well. I’ll send him an apology tomorrow. Tonight…I’ll just cry.

  Chapter 25

  Josh

  Sunday’s a day off, but I wish it weren’t.

  I need to do something to get out of my head. And out of my apartment.

  So I jump into my car and drive to the practice facility to work out. I love the speed on the parkway along the river with relatively little traffic. Thoughts drift in and out of my head. I’m still pissed. Still full of adrenaline. I slept last night only because when I got home, I started drinking tequila.

  At the arena I swipe my card to enter and change into workout clothes. Exercise will help with the buzz of adrenaline that makes me want to punch someone. Or something. It’ll also help with the slight fog of a hangover.

  I still can’t believe Sara did that. Went behind my back. Talked to Lilly about me.

  Fuck! That’s humiliating.

  I pump weights, straining my muscles until sweat dribbles down my face. And my back.

  Then they planned that? As if we’re two kids the teachers have to bring together: Say you’re sorry to Easton, little Joshy.

  Fuck that. I’m not sorry.

  Okay, I didn’t realize what was happening with Easton at the time after the bus accident, when I was in the hospital. There’s a lot I don’t remember about that time. I don’t remember him talking to me in the hospital in Swift Current. I remember feeling alone. Lost. The guys I’d spent all my time with were no longer in my life. Especially Easton and Hunter. They were just…gone. Everything I knew was gone.

  And I had enough problems to deal with.

  I move to the sled and load it with a bunch of weights, then push it. My legs are screaming by the time I’ve done the eight reps. So I do two more.

  I grab a towel and swipe off my face, breathing hard.

  I keep thinking about Easton after the crash. I knew his brother and his dad had died. I felt sad about it. Bryce was like a big brother to me too for all the time we spent together, and Easton’s dad was a mentor. I mourned their deaths too, along with the others who’d lost their lives. But somehow I’d never pictured eighteen-year-old Easton planning funerals. And I never knew about his mom.

  Fuck.

  I lie down on the mat, ready to do some pushups and planks. Instead, for a moment, I stretch out on my back, my eyes closed, heart thumping.

  And I think about Sara.

  I’m so confused.

  I shouldn’t have gotten involved with her. I knew that all along. A girlfriend wasn’t part of my plan when I came here. Okay, I didn’t have much of a plan when I came here because being traded also wasn’t in my plan. But I should have just focused on hockey…on being the best I could, showing the team that wanted me that they’d made the right decision. I don’t like surprises and I definitely don’t like being ambushed. And Sara keeps doing that to me. Only this time, it was too much.

  I have to end things with her.

  I roll onto my belly and start pushing up onto straight arms, keeping my core tight. Again. And again. Gritting my teeth. Grunting.

  I should have known better. A relationship will mess up my life. I’d rather have boring than messed up.

  I swipe my forearm across my stinging eyes.

  After my workout, my legs feel like noodles. I stagger into the locker room and strip out of my clothes, then into the shower. With a towel around my waist, rubbing my hair with another one, I trudge back to the locker. I pull out my phone. I have a bunch of notifications, mostly from the guys wanting to know why I disappeared last night. I sit on the bench. Everyone thinks Sara and I left together and make some filthy assumptions about what we were doing. I sigh.

  There’s a text from Sara.

  My thumb slowly moves over the notification to open it.

  Hey Josh. I want to apologize for last night. I was totally out of line. All I can say is my intentions were good. I wanted to help you like you’ve helped me. I guess I misunderstood what our relationship was, and I’m sorry for that too. You’re right, that was none of my business and I shouldn’t have gotten involved. I wish you all the best. Good luck in the playoffs.

  Well. I guess I don’t have to end things after all. She’s already done it.

  * * *

  —

  Monday morning, we practice. I’m here, but I had a rough night. When I managed to sleep, I dreamed of Sara, crazy dreams where I was chasing her and couldn’t catch her and she was crying and I needed to get to her to help her with whatever she was upset about but I couldn’t. I woke up sweaty, my heart thumping.

  Now I’m tired, irritable, and don’t give a shit about shooting a goddamn puck around on the ice. Which is weird because hockey has always been my escape from reality.

  When I walk into the dressing room at the practice rink, Easton’s there standing in front of his locker, looking at his phone. My muscles tighten even more.

  He glances up and sees me. The air in the room changes.

  He gives me a chin lift. “Hellsy.”

  “Millsy.”

  I open my locker, trying to ignore him. Then I pause.

  Aw, fuck this.

  I turn. “We need to finish what we started Saturday night.”

  He doesn’t look surprised. “Yep.”

  “After practice?”

  “Sure.”

  I try to focus as Coach yells at us through drills and a scrimmage, blocking out everything else. Coach is being really picky, but at this point in the season we need to have our shit together. We have seven regular-season games left to play. We know we’re in the playoffs so it’s hard to be motivated. Especially for me, because I have this freaky feeling that none of this matters. Life is more than hockey.

  Wait, what?

  I give my head a shake.

  Lunch is waiting for us in the players’ lounge after practice, but once we’re showered, Easton catches my eye. “Let’s go grab lunch somewhere else.”

  I nod and grab my shirt.

  Out in the parking lot, we pause. “Where to?” I ask. “You know this area better than I do.”

  “There’s a place near here…Hudson Valley Market…” He gives me directions.

  “I’ll meet you there.”

  I find the place no p
roblem and wait in the entrance for Easton. It’s a really nice place, but I’m more focused on what we’re going to talk about. He walks in jingling his car keys and the hostess leads us to a table for two at a window.

  We look over the menu in silence as our water glasses are filled and we’re informed of the specials. I’m not even hungry, which is a shame since there are lots of good things on the menu. I end up ordering a duck breast grain bowl and Easton asks for the veggie burger. The waitress takes our menus and we look at each other across the table.

  “So,” he says.

  “Yeah.”

  There’s a loaded silence for several uncomfortable seconds.

  “So,” I say. I roll my eyes. “Coach talked to you too?”

  “Yeah.” His mouth tightens. “And he’s right. We aren’t communicating on the ice like we need to.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You can hate my guts, but you have to put that aside.”

  “I don’t hate your guts,” I say tiredly. “But yeah.”

  “Sure sounded like it the other night.”

  I shake my head, frowning. “When did I say that? I told you how I felt.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  I frown. “What?”

  “You accused me of deserting you.” He shakes his head. “Okay, I can interpret that to mean you felt deserted. But you didn’t really tell me how you felt.”

  I think back. I was pissed that night and I don’t remember my exact words. “I guess I did feel deserted,” I say slowly.

  “You know that makes it all about you?”

  My frown intensifies. “What the fuck?”

  He meets my eyes. “We all went through hell, Josh.”

  He used my real name, which means this is serious shit. “I know.”

  “Do you? It sounded like you hadn’t really thought much about anyone else but yourself and how miserable you were.”

  I open my mouth to defend myself again, then slowly close it.

  He has a point.

  All these years, I’ve held on to my own suffering. I knew in my head that others had been impacted too, but now shame crawls over my skin.

  “I’m not saying you didn’t have a right to be miserable.” Easton holds up a hand. “Obviously you did. I knew you’d been busted up pretty bad, but I was dealing with my own shit too.” He tips his head back briefly, then meets my eyes. “I felt…the same. I didn’t blame you, but fuck…I lost my brother, my dad, then my mom. My whole team. And my best friends.” He meets my eyes and my gut churns at his words. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you.”