Page 84 of Must Love Dogs… and Hockey

“Yeah.” He rubs his face against my hair. “I’m sorry too.”

“Was it hard for you to play hockey? After that?”

For a moment, he doesn’t answer. “No. It wasn’t. I felt like that was all I had left. I would have lost my mind if I couldn’t play hockey. But I did feel…guilty, I guess. That Icouldplay when others couldn’t. When I got drafted, I told myself I was playing for them too.”

A piercing ache fills my chest. I squeeze his arm tighter. That’s so impressive. There is so much more to this man than I ever realized. To have come through something like that…I see now why sometimes he’s a little cynical.

It takes me a long time to fall asleep, thinking about what Easton just told me. Even when he’s breathing slowly and rhythmically, sound asleep, I’m wide awake. I keep thinking about him sitting in a dark, snowy ditch, holding his brother, and my heart breaks for him. I think about his dad, and how Easton kept thinking he’d find them. More tears dampen the pillow beneath my cheek. What an incredible tragedy for that team…all those families. And for Easton.

Chapter 17

Easton

Early in December we have a long road trip, a whole week away, playing in Vegas, Santa Monica, Long Beach, and Anaheim. It’s probably a good thing to get a little distance and make sure neither Lilly nor I are getting too caught up in things.

Since I told Lilly about the bus crash, I’ve felt like things are different between us. She now knows more about me than anyone else here in New York. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. It’s so easy being with someone who gets you, who knows all about you and likes you anyway. But it also makes me feel exposed. Like she knows my biggest weaknesses. It scares the shit out of me.

It also scares the shit out of me that I think about her all the time.

I need to take a step back. So this trip is perfect timing.

Road trips are fun, and Vegas is cool; so is California. The guys all hang out together, which is good for team building.

Of course, Lilly texts me with pictures and videos of Otis. Sounds like she’s really busy with all her new clients plus having him for a whole week, but she seems happy about that. I’m happy for her, glad that this new business is working out.

We win our first game in Vegas, which puts Coach in a good mood and things are calm. In Santa Monica, we play great, but end up losing in an overtime shoot-out. Coach isn’t happy about that, but there’s not much he can say about the quality of the game, and we get a point. So far, three out of four road trip points is pretty good.

We celebrate by going out to a hot club after the game, which I’d normally be down for. When I find myself unenthusiastic, I give myself a stern talking-to. Nothing wrong with having a little fun! So I throw myself into it, tossing back a few drinks and dancing with four different women on the dance floor, the club throbbing with music and light.

Then I feel guilty, which is stupid, because I’m not in a serious relationship with Lilly and she’s probably out with her girlfriends doing the same thing. Probably. Maybe.

We have an optional practice on Wednesday and, despite the late night and the drinks, I make myself go. I don’t want to give Coach any reason to be annoyed with me. Last night, he put me back on the first power play unit with Bergie and JBo, and I fucking scored, so he has to be happy with that and I want to keep it that way. After practice, a bunch of us hit the beach, right across from the hotel we stay at in Santa Monica, and enjoy some sun, sand, and beach volleyball. We do a little shopping, and later we go out for a seafood dinner at a restaurant near the pier.

Sometimes we put all our credit cards in a pile and get the server to pick one and that’s who pays for dinner, but tonight, we’ve decided that the first person who uses the word “dick” will be the one who pays.

I’m not cheap but I am competitive, so I’m determined not to say that word and I’m going to get someone else to say it. “Hey, Russ, what’s happening with your vasectomy?”

His head jerks back and everyone else at the table directs their attention on him.

“You’re getting a vasectomy?” Gunner says. “Whoa.”

“I’m not getting a vasectomy.” Russ glares at me.

“Wow, talk about taking one for the team,” Nate says, ignoring Russ.

“Hey,” Cookie says, smirking. “What do a Christmas tree and a man who’s had a vasectomy have in common?”

I grin at him. “What?”

“Ornamental balls.”

Everyone roars. Except Russ.

“I’m not having a vasectomy!” he shouts.

Other diners at nearby tables turn to look at us.

“Shit,” he mutters, bending his head and rubbing his red face. “I hate you guys.”

---