Page 40 of Goal Line
“Listen, there’s no two ways about it—it was a big deal. But you’re still early in your career. You’re still learning andgrowing as a player. Don’t let it fuck with your head. Learn from it. Whatever had you so distracted, cut that shit right out of your life,” he says, and I try not to flinch, knowing that I’m doing the absolute opposite. I’m not cutting Eva out of my life, I’m marrying her...if she’s still up for it. “Or learn how to keep that shit off the ice. Everyone has bad games. I had two of them in the playoffs, and both were because I was too focused on AJ and Abby. I had to learn how to compartmentalize when I was on the ice.”
Normally, I can do that. But there was something different about the utter panic I felt that night—that something could be wrong with Eva or the baby, or that Helene would discover Eva’s secret before she was ready to tell her mom. I probablyshouldtalk to someone about that and figure out how to prevent it from happening again.
I glance over McCabe’s shoulder before I respond, and that’s when I see Eva walking in with her parents. I hadn’t asked her, but I’d expected her to wear white tonight for our wedding. Should I be worried that she’s in a dark green dress, with her hair in a high, slicked back ponytail? She looks gorgeous and sultry, which is not how I’d pictured her wanting to look on her wedding day. Is this her way of telling me the wedding's off?
“Dude. Wipe that look off your face. If Coach catches you looking at his daughter that way . . .”
My head snaps toward McCabe to find that he’s followed my gaze. “I wasn’t looking at her inanyway.”
“Uh-huh.” He takes a sip of his beer as his eyes narrow. His face changes, like he’s come to a certain realization. “You have feelings for this girl?”
My head rears back. “What? No. She’s my best friend.”
“You keep saying that, but Renaud’s my best friend,” he says, referring to one of our teammates I’ve never met because he’s been on the IR with a broken hand all season, “and I sure as shit don’t look at him the way you’re looking at her. Was she the reason you were so distracted in Game 7? The fact that she was sick?”
I try not to let my surprise at how accurately he’s assessed the situation register on my face. “How’d you know she was sick?”
“How do you think?”
Mentally, I put myself back in that hallway when I heard the news, realizing that the only other person in a position to hear Coach was AJ.
“I keep forgetting you’re with AJ. That’s still so . . . weird. How you hated her so much, until . . .”
“Until I didn’t.” His words are clipped, indicating the end of that discussion.
“You’re staring at her again,” he warns, turning his head to follow my gaze. AJ is now standing near the Wilcotts, chatting with them. “Let’s go.”
“Where?” I ask, even though I can tell by the tone of his voice that he can’t wait to get over there to AJ.
“I’d like to meet your best friend, Lover Boy.” His voice is pure sarcasm, like he’s already concluded that she’s more to me than a best friend.
“Dude, do not call me that in front of her or I’ll never live it down.”
“She doesn’t know your reputation?” he asks as we make our way toward the entrance of the huge auditorium where they stand.
“She does,” I groan. “But just because women flock to me doesn’t mean I’m doing anything to earn that reputation.”
“Huh.” His single-word response is pensive, and I wonder if I’ve revealed too much.
When we reach the Wilcotts, McCabe slides his arm around AJ’s waist and kisses the top of her head.
“Still not quite used to this,” Coach says with an awkward laugh.
“You’ll get there,” AJ and McCabe say at the same time.
It makes me wonder if he’s going to feel the same way about Eva and me if we get married. Will it be awkward for our parents? Is it wishful thinking that they might be totally thrilled for us?
Too afraid of what I might see on her face or what my expression might reveal, I’ve avoided meeting Eva’s gaze. When I finally do, she gives me a small, reassuring smile that has some of the tightness in my chest loosening.
We chat for a minute, and then Charlie and Helene are off to talk to someone else, and it’s just the four of us left standing there.
“I’m so sorry to hear you were sick a few weeks ago,” AJ tells Eva. “You feeling better now?”
“Yeah, I was just exhausted and dehydrated,” she says. “The end of competition season really did me in.” She gives me a quick sideways glance, and I can tell she’s not sure what to say or do next. Like most people when they first meet AJ, I think Eva’s a bit intimidated.
“She’s doing fine now,” I say, bringing my hand to her lower back. “But?—”
I’m interrupted by the announcement asking us to take our seats, and we part ways with AJ and McCabe who aresitting near the stage, while we head to the theater-style box seats that line the perimeter, facing the stage.
