Page 13 of Saving You

“Okay, time to gofind your mom.”

“Okay. Caleb, next time can I tape your stick pink?” she asks.

I grin. This adorable little girl has only known me for two weeks and in that time, she has made me cookies, asked me to join her for lunch, asked to spend time with me before my game, and now wants to tape my stick in the future. Not only does she want to tape it, she wants to pick a colour. I’m not sure I could say no to the request even if I wanted to.

“Yeah, Little Bear, you can tape it pink next time.”

Leaning my stick against the bench, I get up and lead Charlie towards the bleachers where I know Liv and the girls will be. I lift her onto the second level of the bleachers beside her mom.

“Remember, we’ll be wearing red,” I say before turning and heading back to the dressing rooms.

I push open the door and take a seat with my stuff.

Before I even have my shirt off, Grayson asks, “So, you’re sleeping with the mom?”

I look up and shoot him a glare. “No, I’m not sleeping with Bailey.”

“Well, she sure seems to blush a lot around you,” he says.

“You’re seeing shit.” I continue to change into my gear.

“You should go for it,” Grayson adds after some time.

“The last thing Bailey or Charlotte needs is my baggage. Even if I were interested, I wouldn’t force that on them. They have enough of their own shit to deal with.”

Grayson drops his voice low so only I can hear him. “You still having the nightmares?”

He’s the only person I’ve told. I haven’t even told my family about them or waking up drenched in sweat. When I got back from my last tour, Grayson noticed a change in me. Being a doctor, he figured it was PTSD, and he’s probably right. I told him about my nightmares and waking up eachnight but haven’t been able to muster the ability to go see someone for it.

I give him a slight nod as I continue to lace up my skates.

“You know if you need to talk, I’ll listen, and if you need an outside person, I’d be happy to recommend someone.”

My entire body is now rigid. I don’t like talking about this. I don’t want to talk about my nightmares, what happened during my tours, or why I chose not to re-enlist at the end of my last one. I slap my hands against my thighs before pushing to standing. “Yeah, I’m all good, man, thanks.” We both know that’s not the truth, but he doesn’t press further.

I grab my sticks and head out to the bench. Stepping onto the ice, I push away from the boards and let my feet glide me over the ice. The movements are like second nature. The more I move around the ice, the more my body relaxes.

As I round the ice near the bleachers, Charlie excitedly yells, “Go, Caleb!”

She does a little happy dance when I wave at her, and I can’t hold back my grin. I don’t think I’ve smiled this much in such a short time in years. After hitting a few pucks into the net, we gather all the pucks and I skate to centre ice for the face-off.

Josh takes his spot at centre, I’m to his right, and Matt’s behind me. The puck drops, and Josh wins the face-off, sending the puck back to Matt. He passes it to me, and as soon as I feel the puck connect with my stick, I’m skating towards the other team’s goal. I pass the puck to Josh just as I’m slammed into the boards. I keep my footing and make my way across the ice, positioning myself to receive the puck from Sam. He fakes a shot on goal and sends it to me. Pulling my stick back, I wait until the puck is almost to me. My stick comes down and sends a slapshot straight at the goal. The goalie catches the puck, forcing a stoppage and a new face-off to his right.

The other team wins the face-off. They move to send the puck across the ice, but Nick, one of our players, gets his stick on it, sending it over the boards into the other team’s bench.

A new face-off has Josh winning it, sending it my way, and I wind up for another slapshot. This one makes it in just over the goalie’s right pad.

Arms thrown in the air, I skate past our bench, bumping fists with the guys before getting off the ice and joining them. Sitting, I feel a tug on the sleeve of my jersey. I turn, and Charlie’s standing there with her fist out.

I bump my fist with hers before saying, “Little Bear, I need you to either get down so you’re lower than the top of this”—I point to the top of the boards—“or stay behind the glass. I don’t want you to get hurt, okay?”

With a sad look, she nods, and I hold my hand out for another fist bump. That earns me a smile before she bumps my fist and goes back to join her mom and the girls, who are looking at me with soft smiles.

The rest of the game moves fairly quickly, and we win in a close game, 3-2. When I get up to go to the dressing room, Charlie collides with me while calling, “You won, Caleb, you won!”

“We did,” I say, crouching down. “Do you wanna go on the ice before they take the Zamboni out?”

She nods vigorously, so I take her hand and lead her to the ice.

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