Page 68 of Facing Off
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
On the heels of that, comes another confession. One that surprises even me.
“I think I might be mad at Matt and Emmad for leaving the Wings, which makes no sense because they didn’t choose to leave us. They got injured and had to retire, but ever since then, our teamwork on the ice has fallen apart. We’re not cohesive—and I feel like shit admitting that, becauseagainit’s not their fault. They got injured. And…” My eyes close and I cover my mouth with my hand. Through my fingers, I mutter a low and guilty, “Fuck.”
Sonya doesn’t say anything.
Good, because I’m too busy battling something else loosening inside me. Another bigger answer to why today I’m struggling so hard.
In the middle of tonight’s game, I thought I saw someone in the crowd. Short buzzed hair. Brown eyes. A vintage jersey.
Jesse Osler.
A ghost from my haunted past.
Except, it wasn’t him. My eyes were playing tricks on me. And I knew it couldn’t be him, but it knocked me off my game and has clung to me ever since.
My teeth grind. I rub the side of my forehead. I…don’t want to talk about that. Can’t talk about it. The pain is buried in me too deep.
Plus, it’s enough. Sonya has already gotten me to admit more than I ever thought was possible. How did that happen? How does she do it? She’s got this mysterious presence about her. I want to tell the hardworking soldier that’s my heart to stand down for a little while so we can whisper and pour hidden parts of ourselves out. The parts we think are too bent up to see the light, except when she’s around, I guess.
“I get it,” says Sonya softly. Her features soften by a degree.
“You…get it?”
She nods at me.
“You’re not judging me?”
“For that?” Her hand sticks around as if she’s about to poke me again, but instead she’s patting my knee. “Not even a little bit.”
My pulse stumbles as overhead, clouds begin to darken.
I take off my jacket and drape it over her shoulders.
“Wait—you don’t have to–” she stammers. Then after a moment, shrugs. “I don’t mind getting caught in the rain.”
That makes me smile. Genuinely. I can even wink. “If we were in a movie, this is when the rain would start, darling.”
On cue, thunder rumbles overhead.
Sonya groans.
I laugh. It’s a blunt, unexpected sound. I don’t know where the capacity comes from, didn’t think I had it in me tonight, but it rumbles my entire chest.
Fuck.Now I’m laughing?
This night is messing with me. And now I don’t know what to say.
As if food is the answer to any awkwardness, real or imagined, Sonya tells me to keep eating the fries.
We do. And I’m still not completely myself and haven’t found the Happy Adrian Hughes switch to turn back on for a continuous basis, but this? This is good.So good.
“Not telling jokes was the right call,” I admit, saying it like a confession. “This is peaceful.”
“You’re at peace? I’m secretly plotting.”
