Page 27 of Out Of Time

He was going to do one more scary thing tonight.

When he closed his eyes, before he had time to process what was happening, Remi flung her body onto his, dunking him underwater playfully. He let her weight overpower his strength—strength that he could’ve very easily used to toss her like a wet puppy. But he didn't. He went along with her game, dunking her back and allowing her to wrap her arms around him from behind to dunk him again.

It wasn't a kiss.

It wasn't even close.

But in the moment, it might have been better.

They got back to Remi’s house after another slow drive down PCH, sticky with salt water and wrapped up in two blankets Max had in an emergency kit in the back of his Jeep.

“Why are we always wet by the time we get back to my house?” she asked.

“I don’t know, but at this rate, I might need to keep an extra set of clothes here,” Max said, instantly going red.

Remi smiled as if she liked the idea of that. He wondered if nights like this could eventually lead to his things showing up in her laundry. His favorite drinks in her fridge. His personal toothbrush on her sink counter. The scent of him on her sheets… the scent ofheron his skin.

“I’m sorry we got your car wet,” she said, drying her hair with a towel she grabbed from the laundry room.

“It’s fine. It’s just a car.”

Just a car?This made Remi roll her eyes sarcastically, causing Max to blush an even deeper shade of pink. He didn’t do it often, but sometimes it was easy to forget not everyone had the same privileges in life he did being an NHL goalie.

“I have to go. I have an early morning, and I haven't even packed.”

“Yeah, of course,” she said, reluctance lining her every word.

“I could text you,” he offered shyly, “while I’m on the road.”

Remi beamed, and Max took that as a yes.

“Good luck on your road trip,” she said, her words gentle and inviting, and he thought she mightreallykiss him this time. He thought of kissing her, yet again. He thought of how the last time he considered this he ended up with salt water up his nose.

Before he could work up the courage, Remi added, “Do scary things, Max… on your road trip.” And there it was.Do scary things, like talk to your team, talk to your coach, talk to your doctor.

He had gotten it wrong. This wasn’t an invitation to a kiss; it was a pep talk for a career-changing conversation.

Disappointment and resentment flooded through his body at the realization.

“I’ll try,” he said.

The east coast road trip was going how Max wanted it to go, as far as his team winning.Howthey were winning, not so much. Brown had gotten the start in all three games on the East Coast, after Max fumbled his way through practice, putting the Condors back in the rankings. His career's future looked bleak from the bench, and the way the boys were talking to him was torture. It reminded Max of how people spoke to a dying person.

He wasn’t dying for fuck’s sake; he just needed an eye exam and maybe some glasses or at least that’s what he told himself to get through the day with the fear of it being something bigger sitting in the pit of his stomach.

They would fly out tomorrow for two games in Florida, then back to the West Coast for games against Arizona and L.A., before heading home for a game in Anaheim.

The whole time he was gone he hadn’t texted Remi like he said he would. He couldn't. He felt defeated and was too scared to talk to her because he was reckless when he talked to her—open and honest. Saying it out loud would make it all tooreal, and he didn’t want her to know that his night vision had been elevated to code red. Every time the lights went from dark to light, he was met with intense strobe-like flashing. This was bigger than he let on, and he didn’t want Remi to know what he thought was happening to him. He didn’t want to tell her because he was still trying to lie to himself. Hide it from himself. Denial was his only companion.

When he got back to his room after dinner, he was surprised to find his coach and Patrick Carter, his captain, sitting on one of the beds in the room. Normally Max roomed with a rookie, Nate Kinder, the other token weirdo of the team, but from the looks of it, Coach was shaking things up tonight.

“Hey?” Max said hesitantly, putting his things on the dresser.

“Have a seat, son,” Coach said.

Max took a seat on the bed across from them.

“Max, what I’m about to tell you didn’t come easy. It’s something I’ve been considering with staff, and after talking with Carter, I think it’s in everyone’s best interest if we put you on leave for the rest of this trip and bring Brody up from the minors. We have to keep what’s best for the team at heart here, and right now, Brown is on a winning streak, and Brody has been standing on his head in San Diego with the Waves. It doesn't make sense to keep you on the bench when we have a goalie in the minors who is better equipped to step in and give Brown a break. We all wanted to see you in front of the net in Florida tomorrow, but after your morning skate, we think you need to take some time off to reset. When we get back to Anaheim you can skate with the team and we can go from there.”

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