Page 109 of The Home Grown
“Damn right I have. And I know there’s no way you’ve not imagined the same. I mean…”
“You’re such a dick,” I say, trying to hide the smile cemented on my face.
But I can’t. I feel my face growing hot, so I scramble to change the conversation, saying the first thing I can think of.
“So, how do you think the guys will take the news?”
Mike pauses for a moment and I give him time to think, opting to stroke his forearm with my index finger while I wait.
He clears his throat before he speaks.
“I guess I’m nervous, to be honest. The judgement. The speculation, maybe. I know the guys are decent but…” he sighs. “I don’t know. I think I want to talk to Johnny first. He’s the one I trust the most and if I can get him on my side, then the rest of the team will be fine.” He reaches for my hand and laces his fingers with mine. “You are sure, right? I mean, it’s not too late to back out. I can square it with Hutch. He’ll understand.”
“I’m not backing out,” I say. “Besides, this is for my benefit as much as yours. Considering my sister knows now. Imagine her revelling in the fact that my marriage has failed … well, if you know what I mean.”
“How much does she know?” he asks.
“Apparently, she read the emails Greg sent to a friend working in family law. So, she probably knows there’s paperwork I don’t have.”
“I’ll make an effort this week,” he says. “To look for it, I mean. Because regardless of how things go with us, we need to know, right?”
I nod. He’s right. Of course he is.
But his words settle on me. His choice of words. Us. Are we an ‘us’? I don’t know. In fact, I don’t even know what it’s like to be ‘us’ with anyone. All I’ve had is micro-relationships. The ones where you text for weeks before having a first date. Then a second date. Then a third. Then the sex starts and the texting fizzles out and before you know it, you’re being ghosted.
“Hey, Kitch,” he says, after a moment of silence. “Do you mind if I drop in on Johnny? I think he’ll still be awake. He always struggles to sleep after a big loss. It’ll make things easier in the morning.”
And there it is. That sickness I felt earlier when I got to the rink to find I was too late. To find I’d missed his game.
He was downplaying it. And my problems preoccupied me too much to notice.
BETTSY
I guessI was secretly hoping Johnny would take an early night, because when he answers after a three solid knocks, my heart drops into my stomach.
He studies me, eyes narrow, before he greets me.
“Hey, Cap. Do you mind if I come in for a sec?” I shove my hands into my pockets and will myself to maintain eye contact.
This is it. Time to come clean and tell the only person whose opinion really matters to me, perhaps apart from my mam.
“What’s going on, bud?” he asks, checking the time on his wristwatch. “Is everything okay?”
He beckons me inside and I slip my trainers off, setting them to the side before following him to the living room.
It’s quiet, and I spot a book open on the coffee table, cover face up, like he was reading, and the guilt of ruining his night creeps in.
“Where’s Kel?” I ask.
“Sleeping,” he says.
“Right, yeah.”
“Well, what’s going on?” he says. “Is this something to do with the game?”
“Nah.”
“Langer?”
