Page 43 of Home Game

“You don’t have to tell me that.”

“Okay. Have a good night.”

We beatLA on Thursday night and tied with Edmonton on Friday. By the time our flight rolled into Vancouver it was almost midnight, and it was almost 1 AM before I walked into the apartment. I was expecting Zoey to be in the bedroom, and it wasn’t until after Iturned on most of the lights, dumped my luggage and walked towards the kitchen, that I realized she was asleep on the couch.

She was dead to the world. She lay curled up on her side, knees up, her hand tucked beneath her head. I studied her. I had the inexplicable urge to wake her, to talk to her, to ask her how she was doing. Instead, I turned off most of the lights and moved into the kitchen as quietly as possible. There was a plate of plastic-wrapped pizza slices in the fridge, with a note in loopy handwriting.

“In case you’re hungry.”

I put the entire plate in the microwave and reached into the fridge to grab a beer. When I straightened up, she was standing on the other side of the fridge door.

“Shit,” I said, trying not to show that she had spooked me. “I thought you were sleeping.”

Her hair was sticking straight up on one side, like she had gone to bed with wet hair, but this time, two blue eyes stared at me.

“Your eye opened.”

“Did you find the pizza?”

I nodded, and took a sip of my beer, looking her over. She wore black leggings and her hoodie. Her arm was still in the sling. “Sorry I woke you.”

She shrugged and continued to stare at my face. “Is your lip okay?”

My tongue smoothed over the cut on my bottom lip. “No biggie.”

She took a deep breath and let it out, in annoyance.

I set my beer down and grabbed the pizza, putting it on the island. “Want a piece?”

She shook her head.

“Do you want a beer?”

She looked conflicted for a moment and then shook her head. “No thanks.”

“So, you watched one of my games.”

“All three.”

I didn’t see that answer coming. I tried to keep my face neutral. “So, are we going to make a hockey fan of you?”

She shrugged. “Why doesn’t the referee stop the fights?”

“What do you mean?”

“They stood there watching you fight.”

“They are trying to see who gets the penalty and they’re trying not to get hurt.”

“They should have helped you. That guy was bigger than you.”

“He wasn’t that much bigger.”

She rolled her eyes. “He looked huge. I thought he was going to severely hurt you.”

I had to work to not laugh. “Easy. I thought I held my own.”

“What did you say to him to make him want to fight you?”

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