Page 83 of Must Love Dogs… and Hockey

My stomach churns and aches. “Oh no.” I curl my fingers around his taut forearm.

“Fourteen people died. Including Bryce and my dad. My dad was an assistant coach. Our coach also died, the bus driver died, a guy from the local radio station died, and our athletic therapist died. And nine other players.” He swallows and when he speaks again, his voice sounds like he swallowed broken glass. “Some of the other guys were hurt really bad.”

“You?”

“No.” I feel his head movement. “I mean, I had some bruises and I was sore for a while, but nothing serious.”

I close my eyes and slowly inhale. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m so sorry. That must have been a horrific experience.”

“Yes. It was.”

My insides are all knotted and twisted, my chest hot. I don’t know what to say or what to do. I knew he’d lost his dad and his brother, but not like this. And all those other people. It’s so tragic, my eyes sting with tears.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “We had such a fun night, and this is a downer.”

“It’s okay.” I squeeze his arm. “It’s okay. I’m sorry I asked about it.”

“No, it’s fine. I…I don’t like to talk about it. Or even think about it. It’s been eight years, but I still get angry about it when I think about how unfair it was, all those lives cut short. I actually don’t remember some of it, which I’m told is probably a defense mechanism. But I do remember sitting in the ditch, in the snow, in the dark, holding Bryce…he was hurt so bad and I kept trying to tell him he’d be okay. I told him Dad would find us.” His voice cracks. “I told him we’d get him to a hospital, and he’d be okay. But…he wasn’t okay. He died in the ambulance.”

“Was he older than you?”

“Yeah. He was twenty. I was eighteen. I was…going into the NHL draft that spring. Bryce never got drafted, but he was good. He loved hockey. We both did.”

“And your dad, I bet.”

“Oh yeah. He was so proud of us. And excited about me going into the draft. The rankings had me going in the first round, so he was super pumped about that.” He stops and breathes. “He never got to see it.”

“He knows.”

“Yeah. I believe he does.”

“And he’s still proud of you.”

“I wish every day they were still here.”

“Oh God. I’m sure you do.” I squeeze my eyes shut and a tear slides down my cheek.

“I lost everything that day,” he adds quietly. “I lost my mom too.”

I remember him saying that she’d had a breakdown after that. She must have been so devastated.

“I lost my team.”

“You didn’t play again?”

“No. The whole town was wrecked about what happened.”

“God.”

“And I lost my two best friends…Josh…they thought he might not make it. He did, but I…really haven’t seen him since then. He plays for the Stars now. And Hunter…he was fine, but he disappeared off the face of the earth for a year and then ended up playing college hockey. I’ve never really talked to them since.”

His voice is sad, edged with a touch of bitterness.

Another tear leaks from my eye. “I’m so sorry, Easton.”

---