Page 109 of You Had Me at Hockey

This kind of cheers me up.

Things get heated as the first period ends. It seems that Columbus is frustrated. The Bears are just shutting them right down. This results in a roughing penalty that gives the Bears a power play for the first one minute and forty-four seconds of the second period. Excellent!

Josh scores a goal right away on the power play, with a blistering shot from the point. I laugh out loud and clap my hands.

I still care.

I watch him and Easton hug after, then skate back to the bench laughing. My heart bumps in my chest and I stare at the TV screen. “Oh,” I say out loud. “Oh yes…” And a smile tugs at my lips.

I don’t know what happened between them after Josh stormed out Saturday night. But it looks like I at least didn’t make things worse. God, I hope, Isohope, they’ve talked about stuff and worked their shit out. That would be wonderful. And would make me feel better, knowing thatthey’reokay, even if Josh and I aren’t. I want so much for Josh—everything. I want him to be happy.

I brush away one lone tear. I’m not going to cry again.

The game ends up in a six–nothing win for the Bears, a shutout for Colton. I’m beaming and cheering out loud as they all bump helmets with Colton.

I fall back into the couch cushions. I’m sad and heartbroken for myself, but I’m happy for Josh and the team.

—

Wednesday morning. This should be the end of my allowed wallowing. I lie in bed debating whether to get up, or nah.

Okay, I have to do this. I can’t live my life like this. This is different than when I was depressed in college. Now I have a passion that requires focus and commitment. Idon’thave Josh. But I’m alive. So I drag my ass out of my lovely, comfy bed and change into workout clothes.

At Ignite, I’m nearly whining out loud, “I don’t want to do this. I don’t waaaaant to do this.”

But I climb on the cycle for the class and once my legs are moving and I’m into it, it’s one of the best classes I’ve had. And I feel better after. I may not be able to walk tomorrow, but right now I feel good.

I pick up a breakfast bagel sandwich and a coffee on my way home, where I shower for the first time in days. And with shampooed hair and my Flowerbomb lotion rubbed into my skin, smelling of jasmine, roses, orchids, and freesia, I feel even better. Not great, but better.

Since I have no intention of leaving my condo again for the foreseeable future, I dress in my softest black leggings and a big gray hoodie. I’m about to bite into my sandwich when my phone buzzes. It’s the doorman downstairs, Bowen. He’s bringing up a delivery.

Huh. Okay.

I open the door and I can’t even see him behind the enormous bouquet of pale pink roses.

“Whoa.” I step aside and let him carry them in. “Just set them on the counter. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He smiles. “They’re beautiful.”

They are. I stare at them for a moment and then notice the small envelope. I pluck it out of the greenery and open it.

Roses are red, violets are blue.

I screwed up and without you I’m poo.

I have to read it again. I crack up laughing, but my laughter is almost a sob. I don’t even need to see the name beneath the bad poem: Josh.

I carefully lift the vase out of the cardboard box and set it on the counter. The flowers are gorgeous—the exact color of pink I love, not hot pink or bubblegum pink, but a soft blush pink. I stare at them for a long time, my chest burning.

What does this mean?

Is this an apology? Does he want to get back together?

Is that whatIwant?

I nibble on my bottom lip. I don’t know what to do. Send him a thank-you? Ignore him? Tell him I miss him like I’d miss my liver if it was sliced out of my body?

Gross.

---