Tank: All right, then…
Good luck with that.
Shane: You don’t have to be so doom and gloom about it. Love can work out. I’ve seen it. Half my teammates are coupled up and happier than pigs in shit.
Tank: I know it can. And I wish you the best, man. Truly. My own experience hasn’t given me much hope in situations like this, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want that happy ending for you. I’ll be rooting for you as hard as you rooted for me. And thanks again for getting me in the door with the Badgers.
See you Monday at five-thirty?
Shane: See you then. And you’re welcome.
I’m always happy to help talent get recognized. And in a few minutes, I’ll shoot you an invite to my going away BBQ. All the Badgers from last year will be there. It’ll give you a chance to meet the people you’ll be playing with in a chill setting.
Tank: Thanks again. You’re a solid guy, Shane. I hope your girl realizes how lucky she is and jumps at the chance to lock you down.
Shane: Thanks. Me, too.
Chapter 15
Bree
Two weeks later…
“And the more time I spend with him, the more I love him, and the more I love him the more I want to stab him. Like for real stab him.” I pause long enough to take a slurp of my Thirsty Thursday Massive Margarita with extra salt before diving back into the much-needed bitch session. “With something that will hurt. Like a spork. Or a toothpick. Or a really big splinter.”
Stephanie twirls her paper umbrella through her virgin strawberry daiquiri with a knowing smirk. “A really big splinter. Sounds terrifying.”
“It would hurt,” I insist. “A lot. Probably more than a knife. At least at first, because knives are super sharp and designed to slice things, whereas a splinter is just a renegade piece of wood determined to lodge in your flesh as painfully as possible.”
“I don’t think splinters have life goals,” she says, sympathy in her big brown eyes as she adds, “But I hear you. Have you talked to Shane about any of this? Told him how you’re feeling?”
I hunch over my lime concoction, shoulders slumping. “No.”
Stephanie shoots me an “I call bullshit” look, her lips pushed into a pout and her shapely eyebrows arched so high they disappear beneath her caramel-colored curls.
“I shouldn’t have to talk to him about it,” I say, going on the offensive before Steph can launch into her usual lecture about being a grownup who uses her words and doesn’t expect people to read her mind. “He knows how I feel about him. I made that clear weeks ago, and I continue to make it clear on a regular basis. If he felt the same way, then he would have done the right thing without being asked.”
“And the right thing, as you see it, is for him to have asked for his old spot back on the team? Even though he’s signed a contract to play somewhere else and that would probably have been impossible? Or at the very least, highly unusual and bound to get him a bad rep?”
“But he’s really close friends with Brendan, who’s going to be Kansas City’s new coach. They played together for years,” I argue, although I know, deep down, that she’s probably right. “Coaches don’t have final say on that kind of stuff, but Brendan could have pulled some strings with the owners. Made them see it was best for Shane to go back to starting for the Badgers in light of the drastic circumstances.”
Stephanie nods slowly. “So you’re in the anger and bargaining stages of grief is what you’re telling me?”
I nod loosely, starting to feel the tequila even though this is the first drink of the evening. Guess I should have had more for lunch than a rice cake with peanut butter on my way between classes. “I know I’m being silly, but it felt like fate. We had just told each other we loved each other and wanted a relationship, when all of a sudden, he gets a text that the goalie taking his place broke his leg. The universe was practically ordering Shane to stay here with me! But instead, he pulled strings to get his friend on the team and kept right on making plans for his move to Kansas City.”
Stephanie’s lips part, but I push on. “Kansas City! I mean, who wants to go to Kansas City, anyway? What’s even in Kansas City except corn and tornados and portals to worlds filled with witches?”
“You learned everything you know about Kansas from The Wizard of Oz, I take it?” Stephanie asks.
“Yes. And I’m guessing there’s a reason they only spent a few minutes of the movie in Kansas before Dorothy got swept away to Oz. And that’s because Kansas is boring and stupid and putting an expansion team there is the worst idea the NHL ever had.”
“Don’t vent your spleen on poor Kansas City, which is actually in Missouri, though very close to Kansas.” Stephanie snags a chip from the basket the bartender plunks down in front of us on his way to a group of rowdy sports fans clustered around the television on the other side of the bar. It’s baseball season, and some people care about that, I guess.
As far as I’m concerned, all professional sports can go suck a huge rotten egg. Logically, I know Shane loves his job, and I’m so happy he gets to make a great living doing something he enjoys so much. Illogically, I want all sports to be outlawed, the NHL disbanded, and Shane to stay here in Portland with me, where he belongs.
“Kansas City is actually a cool place,” Steph continues. “They have some really stand out museums, incredible BBQ, and nice people. I spent fifth and sixth grade there. That’s a hard time to change schools, but I wasn’t nearly as miserable there as I was when we moved north of Seattle for seventh grade. At least the Kansas City kids didn’t treat me like I was invisible. And there were other black kids in my class. In Washington, there were only two. Everyone else was either white or Asian, and they expected Beatrice and I to be best friends just because we were the same color. But Beatrice was a bitch who picked her nose and wiped it under her desk and never washed her hands, and even at thirteen I had standards when it came to friendship.” She surveys me imperiously over the rim of her glass. “They aren’t high standards, but I do have them.”
Nose wrinkling, I nudge her knee with mine. “Very funny, butt-munch.”
Stephanie laughs. “I’m kidding. Obviously. You’re a great friend and the only person who has ever given me a fromance present. I love that little book. I take it with me to all my classes now and read a few lines to my students during final rest.”
“Oh, good. I’m so glad. And I’m sorry you had to move so much when you were a kidlet.” I take another thoughtful sip of my now nearly empty glass. “But all that childhood trauma has made you wise beyond your years, so at least something good came out of it, I guess.”
Stephanie nods. “It has. But it didn’t bestow upon me your gift for looking on the bright side, that’s for sure. You can always see the silver lining, girl. So let’s think of something good about your man moving a thousand miles away.”
“One thousand, seven hundred, and ninety-seven miles,” I correct, spirits plummeting back into the depths. “Almost two thousand miles. He might as well be on Mars.”
“Except that you can hop a commercial flight to Kansas City. Or take a bus. Or drive if you think your hunk of junk can make it that far without dying on the side of the highway.”
“But you need money and time to do all of those things,” I say, stating the facts in my most level-headed voice. If I’m going to get Stephanie to take me seriously and help me figure out what to do next, I have to prove to her that this is a real problem. “And both are going to be in short supply for me until I graduate and get a job in—oh, six or seven years. And he plays three or four games per week during the season. That means seven months when we’ll be lucky to steal a single night together at a time, and we’ll have to spend an hour traveling for every hour spent enjoying each other’s company. Maybe more.”
I glance down at my drink, where the juice is starting to separate from the ice, the way it always does, no matter how finely blended the beverage. It’s silly, but I can’t help worrying that it’s a sig
n. Like a frosty drink, Shane and I are destined to drift apart, the physical distance contributing to the emotional distance until our shiny new relationship melts into a yucky puddle of diluted lime juice.
“It’s not going to be easy,” Stephanie agrees. “But what good thing is, right? Getting your degree is hard, but you’re not giving up on that.” She adds beneath her breath, “Getting laid wasn’t easy for you, either, but you clearly had the willpower to make that happen. I’m not stupid enough to think I’ve only seen your face once this month because you’re so busy studying and having long, intimate conversations with your new boo.”
I smile in spite of myself. “You know, I used to think I would be dying to call my girlfriends and dish about my first time when it finally happened. But it turns out I’m not a fan of kissing and telling. Sorry. I’m not holding out on you, in particular, just everyone in general.”
Steph waves a hand between us. “I get it. Seriously, I do. And I know Shane, so it would be weird if you got too graphic with the details. I’m just glad you’re safe and having a great time with him.” She tilts her head thoughtfully. “I mean, you ended up with someone great instead of a liar who lies, like Drake the dud. That’s a win.”
“So glad you got rid of the dud,” I say, eyes lifting to the heavens. “So, so glad.”
“Me, too. And I’m so, so glad you’re happy.” She lifts a shoulder. “So maybe that’s enough for now. To just enjoy each other, see how things go, and adjust as you move forward. It can be tempting to try to think ten steps ahead, but you’re never going to be able to control the future, no matter how hard you try. All we have is the present, and the more we can stay here in the moment we’re actually living, the happier we’re going to be, both now and down the line.”
I pucker my lips and narrow my eyes in response, and Stephanie laughs.
“Still not ready for acceptance yet, huh?” She reaches for another chip.
“No, I’m just bad at Zen.” I sigh, pushing my now empty glass to the edge of the bar to make it easy for the bartender to grab as he swoops by. We food and beverage service industry folks have to stick together. It’s the only way to survive the indignities of our chosen profession.
Which makes me wonder…
I sit up straighter, a lightbulb flaring to life in my head. “I have an idea.” I reach out, grabbing Stephanie’s thin arm and holding on tight. “It’s kind of a crazy idea, but it might work. I mean, Tank’s got to be super grateful that Shane basically handed him the goalie gig with the Badgers, right?”
Stephanie blinks. “I’m sure the guy earned it by doing a killer tryout.”
“Yeah, yeah, but he wouldn’t have had a chance to show them he could do a good job if Shane hadn’t pulled strings to get him in the door.”
“True,” Steph says, swiveling her head to study me from the corner of her eyes. “But what does that have to do with Shane going to Kansas City?”
“Maybe nothing. Maybe everything. Do you mind if I drink and dash? I’ll make it up to you, I promise, I just need to run this by Shane before I get too excited.”
“Yeah, sure,” Stephanie says, glancing at her watch. “I have to head out in a few minutes, anyway. I’ve got a super early class tomorrow.”
“Bless you.” I slide off my stool and reach for my purse, hanging on a hook beneath the bar. I fish out my wallet and place a twenty beside my empty glass before pecking Steph’s cheek. “I’ll text tomorrow, okay? Let you know if my crazy plan turns out to be crazy brilliant or just plain batshit.”
“Okay,” she says, waving as I back away from the bar. “Good luck. And keep your chin up. At least you have a wonderful guy in your life, right?”
I smile and blow her a kiss before turning and hurrying through the early evening crowd to the front door.
She’s right, I do have a wonderful man in my life, and that’s where I intend to keep him—in my life and as close as physically possible.
Chapter 16
Shane
Until Bree and I became a couple, I was all about getting out and getting into trouble with my boys—a group of NHL minor leaguers I hung with on my way to getting drafted into the pros.
I come from a long line of people who work hard and play hard and have always taken pride in my ability to raise hell as well as I handle a puck. I’ve been known to touch down at the airport at eleven after an away game, be at the bar with my crew by midnight, and keep the party going until the clubs kick us out sometime around three or four.
But tonight, I’m silently counting the minutes until I meet up with Bree. We both agreed it’s important to make time for friends—we don’t want to become “that couple”—but the last thing I want to be doing right now is drinking beer at a sports bar. Every second feels like a waste, each sip of beer a sacrilege.
I shouldn’t be here bro-ing it up with the guys. I should be with Bree, making the most of every minute left with her before I leave.
I can’t believe I’m leaving in seven days. I can’t believe how much it hurts to think about climbing into the van and driving away from her. And I don’t know how much longer I can wait to pop the “move with me?” question.
After meditating on my conversation with Tank, I had to agree that asking Bree to marry me after three weeks together would probably send her running for the hills. I can’t see the way I feel changing—or imagine experiencing this kind of all-encompassing love for anyone but her—but I don’t want to scare her away, either.
For all her love of poetry, moody music, and hippie clothes, Bree is a planner as well as a romantic. She likes to think things through, plot strategy, and come to logical-to-her conclusions. I’m the hopeless romantic, the fool who wants to throw caution to the wind and jump into this headfirst.
But maybe, if I’m lucky, she’ll be ready to wade into the deep end with me and start building a life together in Missouri.
“There it goes!” Nick says, elbowing Dwayne in the ribs as he nods across the table wedged into the corner of the pub. “Shane’s got his sad puppy face on again.”
I laugh, face relaxing into a smile. “I do not.”
“She must be some chick.” Dwayne, a fellow goalie, who is barely old enough to drink and still a couple years away from being ready to move up to the majors, shakes his head, clearly mystified that any guy might truly prefer quality time with his woman to quality time with his beer.
“She’s wicked hot,” Nick says, laughing as I shoot a warning glare his way. “No offense, Romeo. I’m glad you finally convinced her to go out with you. I just wish you weren’t leaving so soon. As bad as you’ve got it, there’s no way the love drug is wearing off before you ship out. We’ll have to wait until you come back to visit next summer to get party animal Shane back in action.”
I doubt party animal Shane is ever going to be back in action—at least, not without Bree right by my side, dancing, drinking, and chowing on donuts right along with me—but I know better than to drop that bomb.
I’m about to tell Nick that I’ll be ready to party by Halloween and promise to try to make it back to Portland for the haunted beer golf event he organizes every year, when Dwayne’s eyes go comically wide and he jabs a none-too-subtle finger over my shoulder.
“Hottie at twelve o’clock. I call dibs.” He sits up straighter, running a hand over his closely shorn black hair. “I’m going to go buy her a beer. You two need anything?”
“No, you’re not buying her a beer, bro.” Nick laughs. “That’s Shane’s old lady.”
I glance over my shoulder to see Bree standing in the doorway scanning the packed bar, looking sexy as hell in a little white sundress and a messy ponytail, and lift an arm. Her eyes light up when she sees me, sending an answering surge of excitement through me. I signal that I’ll be there in a minute so she won’t try to fight her way through the tangle of pub tables, and then I turn back to Nick and Dwayne.
“You are a lucky man, dude,” Dwayne says soberly. “Seriously. And sorry for
trying to call dibs on your girl.”
I smile as I drop two twenties on the table and stand, tucking my wallet back into my jeans. “No worries. See you both at the barbeque on Sunday?”
“It’s your going away party, man, we wouldn’t miss it,” Nick says, standing for a bro-hug. As we part, Dwayne lifts a fist that I bump lightly with mine before turning to make my way through the crowd.
It’s all I can do to keep from jogging through the pub, darting and weaving to get to Bree just a few seconds faster. But the place is crowded, and I don’t want to draw any more attention to Bree than she’s attracting already.
Half the men at the bar have turned to stare, and every male eye at the front of the restaurant is fixed on the beauty in the white dress. And by some lucky twist of fate, that girl is mine.
When I reach her, I pull her in for a tight hug.
She giggles as she returns the embrace, her grip every bit as fierce as mine. “I missed you, too. I’m sorry I’m early. I didn’t want to crash your man-date, I just couldn’t wait another second.”
I pull back, grinning down at her. “Don’t apologize. I’m glad you’re here. Nick and Dwayne are glad, too. I was shitty company. Couldn’t seem to get my mind off this girl I would rather be spending time with.”
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