Page 121 of The Puckable Playbook

He narrows his gaze. “I’m not following, sweetheart.”

“I wrote an article that a lot of people read. It’s getting a lot of attention. But you’re only excited about the consequences of that.” Before he can say anything, I keep going. “Which you should be. It’s what you wanted to happen. It’s what I wanted to happen. Lots of fans. Celebrating, I guess. Throw your name out there more. Right? We wanted all that.”

“It could change Warner hockey going forward.”

“Exactly!”

He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, I—” One of his teammates calls his name, and he looks behind him, waving and telling them to give him another minute. “They want to leave.”

I stand my ground. “Zaiah, I’m not trying to take anything away from you. You played amazing. You always play amazing, and yeah, there was a different player out on the ice tonight with everyone watching, but… You never said anything to me about the article. Look what happened because of it. You’re living it. It took a lot of time and effort to arrange everything so you could have this night. Did you read the article when you were in the locker room?”

“No, I was making plans.” He pauses. “Are you mad at me?”

My hands turn to fists at my side, my fingernails digging into the skin. “Zaiah, I want to be celebrated. I want your support. I want you to call out my name and tell me how proud you are of me. The past two times I’ve had good news, where I’ve inched closer to my goals, I’ve gotten nothing from you. Nothing.”

He steps back, brow furrowing, scrunching up his face until he doesn’t look like himself. “I’m sorry. I’m— I’m sure I said something.”

“You didn’t, and I don’t want to have to tell you to do it. It should be something you just do, Zaiah. Look.” I take out my phone, bring up my text thread with Flora, and scroll, showing him all the messages she’s sent me with how many views my article has. How many reposts. Nearly every business in town has posted it, too.

“I didn’t know. I was playing a game when all this happened. You didn’t even tell me you were doing this.”

“You’ve been out of the game for over an hour. You were too focused on puck bunnies waiting for you guys on campus. Why would you think I’d care where they wanted to celebrate? I’m not your wingman, Zaiah.”

“Woah,” he spits. “Don’t insinuate that. I was surprised to see them. That doesn’t happen to us.”

“So surprised that they’re more important than me?”

“You’re it for me, Len. You’re being jealous. And ridiculous.”

His angry words sit like an anvil on my chest. I step back.

He shakes his head. “Not like that. I mean about the girls.”

“Well, when you were so busy telling me they were drunk and listening to where they were going out, you could’ve been thanking me for writing the article. You could have been reading the article. Without the article, you wouldn’t have known you had groupies.”

“Why are you doing this tonight? I want to go out and celebrate with everyone, and you’re—” He waves in my general vicinity.

“Telling you about something that’s hurting me? Sorry to be the issue on your grand night.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what do you mean? Why do we only celebrate you, Zaiah? That’s the problem I’m having. I’ve helped and helped. I got the footage. I wrote the emails. I did the research to even know that we should do that. I wrote the article that’s bringing you and your team all of this tonight. You’ve been waiting for life to happen to you, and congratulations, I guess that’s what happened tonight. All of this…” I throw my arms out wide. Even though the crowd is gone, their ghosts still mock me. “This just happened to you. No one helped you achieve it.”

“Thank you,” he yells. “You’re right, okay? I don’t need my incompetence thrown in my face. Fucking thank you. For everything.”

“If you don’t want it thrown in your face, do better.”

His nostrils flare. It kills me to see him angry. He’s a good person. I know it. Zaiah would do anything for others, but for some reason, this is his hiccup point.

It’s mine, too.

My voice quiets to a whisper. “Why do you think I support you like this? Because I want the same in return. I can’t live hockey all the time. I’m not a rink wife, Zaiah. I’ll support you and support you and support you, but it can’t be one-sided.”

His teammates call his name again. He turns, but then stops himself. Swallowing, his Adam’s apple moves at a glacial pace.

I don’t know what I want him to say or do right now. I’m mad I’m ruining his night, but at the same time, I can’t let this go unsaid.

“Look, I’m sorry, Len. I’ve been selfish. I guess. I don’t know what to say to make this better.”

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