Page 3 of Say It Isn't Snow
Standing six foot five amongst a group of hockey players? I fit right in. But being a tall athlete traveling incognito? Way harder than I care for.
I swear I hear someone take a picture in my vicinity, the audible snapshot setting my teeth on edge.
Shit. I should’ve flown First Class.
After the fallout of the club siding with the shiny new rookie over my good intentions, I didn’t want to wait around to find a more private seat. I booked the first open one I could find heading to the East Coast, not getting my hopes up for a one-way ticket home to Vermont. At least I lucked out with an aisle seat on a direct flight—it’s a holiday miracle I didn’t have a layover at another major hub.
The pinch of anxiousness has my strained muscles wound tight enough to cramp. Being cooped up on a plane for over five hours hasn’t helped, only made everything worse.
I can’t put it off forever. No matter how much I dread turning on my phone, I have to check in with my agent, Trevon, and let my family know in our group chat that my flight landed safely.
Just get it over with. Damn it. I power it on to let the world come flooding back in.
Out of habit, my thumb hovers over the text conversation I keep pinned to the top. The one I’ve never been able to bring myself to delete. It’s remained there for years at this point. I open it when everything’s getting to me and read her old texts.
Holly.
Being back on the East Coast means she’ll be nearby. Will I see her? Hell, probably not. It’s not like she’d want to see me. Seven years of silence from her has made that fact crystal clear.
I stare at the last thing she sent to me: Congratulations.
One clipped word, no emojis. So different from her usual radiant self. She sent it the day I was drafted to the NHL.
I thought all I ever wanted in life was to go pro playing hockey.
Once I got there, I never expected to realize too late how important other things were to me…like her.
Not until I lost her.
There have been so many moments I’ve wanted to talk to her. Wished I could see her again no matter how busy my life as a professional athlete is.
The only reason I’ve held back is the fear of seeing her beautiful features twisted in displeasure at a surprise visit from me. Any time I’ve been home during a break, it’s noticeable that she avoids me. I’ve come to terms with the fact she wasn’t in love with me and didn’t think what we briefly had in secret was serious enough to hold on to, or she wouldn’t have shut me out.
I need her more than she ever needed me, as much that truth crushes me.
I hate to admit that sometimes an irrational part of me is jealous of my sister, Layla, for getting to talk to Holly anytime she wants as her best friend.
Sometimes I tell her about my day only to delete the drafted message before sending. The things I don’t have the balls to say in case I accidentally send the text is stored in my note app instead. One line for every time I’ve needed to say it.I miss you. Over and over again, countless entries over the years mixed with all the things I wish I could tell her.
I rub at the dull ache of regret in my chest and push aside the sense of something missing that always arises when she’s on my mind.
When my phone connects to the network, it buzzes nonstop for a few seconds with a bombardment of messages from my teammates. Ex-teammates, I remind myself with an exhausted sigh.
Maybe I should’ve recognized how strongly I subconsciously had one foot out the door from the minute I got to Seattle.
Instead of putting down roots, I kept a sparsely furnished short-term lease rather than buy my own place, like most players once they make it to the big leagues. I put all my focus into the game, yet detached myself. The only thing I enjoyed out there was the hiking.
It’s not like I made deep connections with most of the guys I played with, either. Not like I did with my Heston U boys when I was in college, because I still keep in touch with them. Other than Davy, my linemate and the guy I’m closest to, the rest were little more than co-workers.
Skimming through the texts wanting to know what happened, I pick Davy’s. He was the one to hold me back thenight it all went down with the rookie when I caught him getting pushy with a girl at the bar.
Davy
What the fuck, bro? I just woke up to this.
He sends a link to the story announcing my contract termination with Seattle. The headline cites conduct issues between me and the newly acquired star rookie as the reason the team let me go. I scrub my face and tap out a reply.
Caleb
