Page 90 of Kitty Season
It’s me, Mom.I want to say.It’s me. I am happy, I’m doing great. I’m in love with two amazing people and I might have a chance at my dream and … I miss you.
Instead I reach over and pat little Troye’s head and smile back. “I’m sure he would love that.”
Coach saysnothing when I enter our rooms, a curt nod is the extent of my greeting. It would be hard for him to say a lot anyway. The room is chaos. Music is blaring. Shane is going from person to person, checking in and offering advice where requested … and when not.
The equipment manager has all our gear set up, new jerseys for each player, a special little Frozen Four emblem on each sleeve. Sitting in my cubby, I trace it and my #two with my fingers, looking over to the empty spot where Brady should be, wishing he was here.
A rough tap on my head draws my gaze from Brady’s hanging jersey, and meets Coach Harris’. He hitches his pants like all old people seem to do then grunts as he takes a seat beside me. It’s awkward as fuck for a solid minute as he just sits there saying nothing.
I’ve never been more terrified in my life.
Scratch that, now I have never been more terrified, because he grunts again, low and deep as he leans forward, picking up a stray skate, one of Shane’s extras I think. For a brief moment I panic, thinking this may be the way he finally unalives me. I can almost picture it. But then I remember how amazing he was yesterday when I met with the clubs.
At first, when he sat down beside Danni, rolled up his sleeves and laid out the first compliment, I wasn’t sure he was talking about me. Both teams were offered nothing but praise for my skills and he surprised me by commending my sportsmanship and teamwork since I came to the team.“It hasn’t been easy for him. BU did the wrong thing in letting him go, and he couldeasilylet that bring him down. But he used it to spur him on and strive for better. It worked and I think it’s worked out for all of us. Except for BU, of course, but who gives a fuck about them.”
To me, it felt the closest I may get to any form of approval from him, and I’m more than happy to take it.
I just hope I don’t let him down.
Still, that blade he’s now running his freshly licked thumb down, does look awful sharp. “I meant everything I said yesterday, Becker,” he says suddenly, making me jump. “I know we have had our differences but you’ve done well.” He shifts a little closer then and drops his voice. “I’m not going to pretend I approve or understand what’s happening with your … relationship … but I won’t stand in the way of it either.”
I swallow the ball of emotion in my throat, and nod. “Thanks David. Or should I call you Dad?”
I swear to God, I can smell his rage.
“Fucking hell, Becker. You just can’t help yourself, can you?” he mutters something reminiscent ofsmart-ass punk, then stands. “Give it everything you’ve got out there, tonight, Troye.” He smirks kind of sadistically, but I choose to take it as a smile. “Do it for Basse. Quinn, too.” He takes a step and pauses. “And take that fucking ring out of your nose.”
“Yes, Coach.”
The dull thud and metallic click of the front door closing and locking wakes me. Blinking my eyes open, I smell and feel Brady behind me, the steady cadence of his breathing telling me he’s still asleep. I don’t need to see the time to know Troye has left, I can sense it.
I don’t think I’ve ever been more conflicted. Wanting to stay and care for Brady. Wanting to go and support Troye.
Eventually, I do get up, and I check the time too. They’ll be doing their warm-ups now, Maybe embarking on my favorite part, the on ice stretches. The thought of Troye thrusting into the ice brings a smile but then I think of Brady, and that I may never see him prep for a game again.
“No,” I scold myself, slapping my own thigh. “He will play again. He will.” I have to believe that. Even when he can’t, I will believe enough for both of us.
From the corner of my eye I see the hospital bags containing his gear leaning against the door, and decide now is as good a time as any to get started on airing them out. The pads come out first, and yeah, that’s ripe, but oddly, not at all unpleasant. His jersey, shorts, cup and socks come next and yeah, that’s gross. Still I find myself doing that weird-ass thing of holding something you know reeks to your nose and sniffing, with one of his socks.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Despite the fact I’ve clearly been busted, I whip the offending item behind my back and plaster on a smile. “Nothing. Just sorting out your gear. I’m not allowed to leave you alone so I can’t go to the laundry room, but I thought I could hand wash some things in the basin.”
“Things like the sock you just sniffed and hid behind your back?”
“Yeah, things like that.”
Brady laughs, then slaps his hands over his ears. “Christ, I feel like shit, Quinny.” I’m on him in a flash, sliding my arm around what I can of his waist and leading him to the sofa. The crochet blanket Lotte brought over is lying over its arm, so as soon as I have Brady seated, I lay it over his legs. I don’t even know if he’s cold. I just need to do something. Just need to touch him.
“The boys will be warming up now,” he says flatly, all emotion drained from his voice. “I can’t believe I’m going to miss out. And that you are, too. It’s not fair to you, or to Troye.”
“Troye understands. And I do too. Even if I decided to go, he wouldn’t have let me. My place is here with you.”
“But—”
“But nothing,” I scold, shaking a finger like my mom would do if I stole a still warm cupcake. “Now, are you hungry? We have soup and pasta. Oh, and Faith brought you some cookies, Tom Toms, I think she called them.”
A wry smile breaks though, adding a little color to Brady’s face. “So, it’s Faith now, hey? Does that mean the vendetta has been annulled?”
