Page 215 of Skate the Line

I pull up her name and stare at it for so long Emory turns out his light and rolls over to go to sleep.

I’m angry with her, but there’s something in me that can’t let it go.

I quickly type a message and hit send before I can rethink it.

Me: This woman is trying to get a hold of you. Says you used to nanny for her. I haven’t given her any information but thought you should know.

I attach the photo but never get around to sending it because the text bounces back.

Number no longer in service?

My world comes crashing down.

The covers fall to my lap when I sit up quickly in bed.

Panic seizes me. I shake my head with denial.

I refuse to let it be true that Sunny is out of my life for good.

Anger and resentment aside, there is a sliver of hope lingering beneath it all. I’ll be here until the end of time, waiting for her to come back or feed me some explanation as to why she just up andleft.

A voice in the back of my head tells me that I should have tried harder to get her to stay. Instead, I put her in the same group that I threw all the other women into, and that wasn’t really fair because she isn’t like them in the slightest.

Pulling up another number, I type something out that seems unhinged, but desperation makes a man do wild things.

Me: I need a favor.

Mel and I are long-time friends, going all the way back to high school. He’s the one I turn to for background checks on the nannies.

SGT Mel: Another background check?

Me: No. But are you able to pull police records? Even if they’re buried?

After I learned that Sunny was attacked, I may have stayed up late one evening andsearched public records for some type of police report. Nothing came up, though.

SGT Mel: Depends on what you mean by buried. Give me the name.

Me: Allison Edwards.

He texts back right away.

SGT Mel: I will send you what I find.

I click my phone off and roll over to my side, knowing very well I won’t be getting any sleep until his text comes in.

I slept like shit, practiced like shit, and we’re playing like shit.

All of us, not just me. Playing on the road is never easy, and it’s even worse when we have a new coach who makes idiot calls and a captain with a bad attitude.

The captain being me.

I try to pull myself together and breathe in and out of my nose.

Ignoring the roaring crowd, Tarvo’s stupid face glares in my direction, and Coach Jacobs’s vein is bulging from stress. I climb back onto the ice.

“We need momentum,” I say to Kane.

He grunts and gets in position for the puck drop.

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