Page 81 of You Had Me at Hockey

“I’m meeting with Harper again on Wednesday.” I wrinkle my nose.

“You got this,” he says softly.

“Thanks. I guess we’ll talk about the trip to Los Angeles.”

He nods.

“And you have a busy week. Three away games.”

“Yeah, but tomorrow we play on Long Island, so it’s not really away.”

“Right.”

We enter my apartment and get rid of our outerwear, then curl up on my couch with our drinks. Josh gives me a taste of his chocolate, which is amazing.

“Thank you for doing that today.” I meet his eyes over the rim of my cup as I sip my latte.

“It was fun. Thanks for making it so casual. I sometimes forgot Connor was there recording us, so it just felt”—he shrugs—“fun.”

“Good. Do you want to see the finished video before I upload it?”

He purses his lips. “No, that’s okay. I trust you to not make me look like an idiot.”

I grin. “I don’t have that worry when it comes to myself. I always look like an idiot.”

“No, you don’t.” He looks troubled by my offhand comment.

“It’s okay.” I reach out and touch his cheek. “I’m a misfit. I know it.”

“How can you be a misfit when millions of people watch your videos and listen to your podcasts?”

“It’s because…” I stop. “It’s because I think most people feel like a misfit in some way.”

He nods slowly. “I guess that’s true.”

“Even you?” I sip more coffee.

“Yeah.” He pauses. “Even me. The last time I felt like I really belonged somewhere was when I played for the Warriors.”

“You were a teenager.”

“Yeah. But the bond with those guys…it was tight. After the accident, I didn’t know what was going to happen with my life. At first I was in denial, but then when I had to face that I had really bad injuries and might not play again, I felt like…nothing.”

My heart squeezes sharply and I suck on my bottom lip.

“Even when I played in Texas, I didn’t feel like I totally belonged. Guys would complain about a pulled muscle—hockey players are tough but they still complain—and all I could think was they’re so fucking lucky they can walk and play. And here”—he shrugs—“I’m the new guy.” He meets my eyes. “But why doyoustill feel like a misfit? You’re successful, super cool, so…” He stops. “I don’t know a word for it, but I get why people love to watch you. It’s…a star quality?”

Heat floods through my veins. “Really?” I ask softly.

“People must tell you that all the time.”

“No.” I shake my head. “I mean, I guess I sort of know that on one level, but…that doesn’t change who I am on the inside. I still feel like the weird kid in high school who couldn’t play sports, got bored in class, and dressed in thrift shop clothes. I just always felt…different.”

He nods. “I guess that’s how I feel…different. I don’t know anyone else who’s been through what I went through.”

“Except maybe Carter.”

His eyelids flare. “Yeah.”

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