Page 20 of Ice Contact

I laugh as we hug goodbye, feeling the best I have in a long time. “Thanks for meeting me for a drink this afternoon, Mags. You’re the best. See you at work tomorrow!”

“Love you too, Liv! You know I’m never one to turn down drinks and gossip,” she says, making her way toward the bar door. “Oh…Emo Guy said he’s bringing in bagels tomorrow…save me a blueberry one!”

As a musician, the one good thing about a breakup is the songwriting material. Finally having some time to sit down at my piano, I pick out a bass line my grandpa and I used to play together as a duet. It’s a boogie-woogie tune, which seems odd given the complex emotions I’m feeling. Sadness. Confusion. Loneliness. Heartache. It all seems to lead toward a moody ballad, but I’m drawn to a fast-paced rhythm, the chaos leading my fingers across the keys.

As my heart pounds through this simple bassline, I start to realize what a complete tool Cayden is. Last night I cried. But today? Today I’m filled with rage.

How did I navigate a gauntlet of unhappiness and lethimbe the one to break up with me?

Memories creep up of all the terrible things he used to say to me - things I had long forgotten about - flooding my mind and fueling my anger. I remembereverything. Every time he ditched me to hang out with his friends. Every time he made me feel bad for wanting to spend time with him. Every time he said something I wanted to do was too expensive, but anything he wanted was a can’t miss opportunity no matter the cost. I pound the keys harder and harder, playing through the outrage coursing through my veins, feeling myself healing with every note shattering the stillness of the room.

All this time I thought I was an inconvenience to him. I always seemed to be in the way of whatever he wanted to do. Butin reality,hewas the one standing inmyway. Being with him caused me to place limitations on myself. I was never enough. I couldn’t compete with anything in his life. I wasn’t worth the time, energy, or effort.I was a girlfriend in name only; a convenient excuse if he needed one.The lyrics begin pouring out of me, and I hit record on my phone, capturing anything I might miss. After a few hours, and some tweaking, a new song is written. One I’m happy to have purged from my soul.

Not every song happens this fast. Sometimes I work on something for weeks, or even months, before it’s where I want it. But with all the pent-up sadness and frustration from everything Cayden put me through, this song poured out of me like a waterfall - crashing down on the remnants of our shitty relationship and wiping it from existence.

Last night with Hayes gave me a fresh perspective of what a good relationship could be like.Oh my God, Olivia, it wasonekiss; you are not in a relationship.Biting my lip, I upload the recording to the cloud, making sure my new song is saved in a safe place.Maybe I am clingy.

No, no, no.New mantra.I amnotclingy.Cayden just wasn’t enough for me. He wasn’t worthy of me. He was nothing more than a lesson of what I truly deserve from a partner.

My stomach growls, and I realize I’ve been writing all afternoon since I got home from Walt’s. I order takeout from my favorite sushi place, and once it arrives, I plop down on the couch to eat and find something to watch on TV. A few minutes later, I hear a knock on the door. Glancing at the bag, my brow furrows.Did the delivery guy forget to give me part of my order?Peekingthrough the blinds, I see a different delivery man holding a package. I open the door.

“Olivia Brooks?” he asks, looking down at the package.

“Yeah that’s me, but I wasn’t expecting anything. You sure you have the right address?”

“Says your name right here on my packing slip. Just need your autograph here please,” he says, holding out his electronic pad for me to sign.

Scribbling quickly, I grab the package and head back inside.Did I drunk order something online?I open the box and inside is a card, along with fabric I recognize immediately, my breath catching in my throat.A Milwaukee Steel Riders home jersey.Quickly taking it out of the box, I flip it over and, sure enough, across the back in big letters is “LARSON” with the number 22 beneath it.

Holy shit.I hug the jersey to my chest, unable to help but take a quick sniff. A smile stretches my cheeks. It’s not like I don’t have a ton of Riders gear due to my singing gig. Well…former singing gig.I groan, dropping my head back and staring at the ceiling.Already forgot about that.But I’ve never worn anything other than my own jersey. I gently set it down and rip open the card as fast as I can.

Olivia,

I know you already have a jersey, but I thought you might like this one too. There’s no other siren I’d rather see wearing my number.

Hayes

My heart leaps out of my chest as I stare wide-eyed between the note and the gift it was attached to.He wants me to wear his number. I feel like I’m back in high school. Except I was notpopular enough for any guy at my school to want me to wear his jersey. I remember always longing to be asked but always knowing I wasn’t cool enough, skinny enough, or pretty enough. I look back on that version of myself and wish I could tell her to hang in there. To tell her that one day, a sexy man with blond hair, brown eyes, and a smile that makes you weak in the knees will give you a jersey with his name on it.

I put the soft fabric over my head and walk across the creaky hardwood floors to my full-length mirror. The warmth of it soothes my bruised heart. It’s huge on my tiny frame, the sleeves hanging down past my short little alligator arms. It’s much larger on me than the custom-tailored one I sing in. This is more like the size an actual player would wear.

I love it so much.

As I’m admiring my reflection, my phone buzzes with an incoming call, and I can’t help but smile when I see who it is.

“Well, if it isn’t Hayes Larson calling his emergency contact. To what do I owe this pleasure? I do hope everything is alright.”

“Hello, Olivia Brooks. I was just calling to see if you got a little gift delivered to you today.” He laughs, the sound making me press my legs together. “Actually, I know you got it because I just got a notification.”

“Oh my gosh, Hayes.Thank you. This is too much and too sweet, and I…I absolutely love it. I’m actually wearing it right now.”

“For real?” he asks excitedly. “Can you show me?”

Oh my God, he wants to FaceTime? Shit. Do I look okay?I reluctantly hit the video button to switch the call and walk back over by my full-length mirror.

“Oh my God, Olivia. That jersey has never looked better on anyone. Not even me. Turn around; let me see the back,” he says as I turn around, trying to figure out how to get the camerato face the right way so he can see his name splayed across my shoulders.

“My little siren, you look beautiful wearing my number, and I’m pissed I’m a thousand miles away so I can’t enjoy it in person,” he groans, and I nervously laugh. I bite my lip as I look away from his gaze in the little window on my phone.

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