Page 161 of Hockey Bois
Brady (9:29 p.m.)
sorry
And that was it. Nick’s been staring at his phone for the past ten minutes, waiting, hoping, and nothing.
Fuck.
He squeezed his phone tightly and ignored the temptation to throw it against the wall.
“What happened?” Gail asked. When he looked up, he saw her frown and genuine concern. It didn’t make him feel better.
Nick gulped. He tossed his phone in his bag and looked away. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve been on the same team as Jens for like four years. He’s missed a grand total of four games, minus the suspension. Two in a row once when he had the flu. Once when his sister got married. Once in June that I’m pretty sure was a booty call with you. And now…”
And now it’d been three games in a row. No injuries or weddings to speak of, and since Nick was clearly present at those very same games, it wasn’t them playing hooky together. Brady had offered a flimsy excuse for the first one, no excuse for the second, and then he hadn’t even warned them he wouldn’t show up for this one.
“Crap.” Nick deflated, shoulders falling and head drooping until his chin met his chest.
She sat next to Nick on the bench, nudging aside his water bottle. “I’ve heard rumors about the picnic,” she said with more delicacy than she usually bothered with. “You guys fighting? Broken up?”
“You have to be together to break up,” Nick mumbled and pulled on his jersey to hide his face. Once he’d gotten it on, he realized it was backward, cursed, and started over.
“You were together,” Gail said matter-of-factly. “Whether all parties were willing toadmitit seems to be more the issue.”
“Well, we’re not together right now. I haven’t seen him since that night, and he barely talks to me when I text him.”
“So you’re saying you broke our star player. Again.”
“Not intentionally,” he muttered. Quite the opposite, actually. Not that his intentions seemed to matter.
“No, not intentionally,” she agreed. “You gotta figure this shit out, though.”
“For the team?”
Gail rolled her eyes. “For yourselves, you idiot. We’re a beer-league hockey team; no one gives a shit if we win or lose. Yeah, winning’s nice but we lost like every game one season, and we all came back for the next one anyway. You two had a good thing going, and I think for your own sakes you should try to fix it.”
Nick gestured wildly at the nearly empty locker room. “Look at me, here, ready to fix it. I can’t fix shit if he won’t talk to me.”
“Somakehim talk,” Gail said like it was the simplest thing in the world.
“How do I make him talk if he ignores me?”
Gail stood up and put on her helmet. “If you care, you’ll figure it out. Go to his house. Leave him a million messages. Find him at some rando stick-and-puck. You shouldn’t be whining that the easy way isn’t working; you should be trying to find a harder one that works.”
And with that, she left him alone to think it over.
Step one was simple enough.
He dug through his bag until he found his phone.
Nick (9:47 p.m.)
well i’m here if you wanna talk or hang out
i’ve missed seeing you the past couple days…
Weeks, his brain helpfully supplied.It’s been almost two wholeweeks. Ugh. He needed to get on the ice, score some goals, maybe check some people, and work off some energy so he’d pass out tonight when he got home. No moping allowed.
