Page 17 of That Thing You Brew
I watched him walk toward the front door, loving that he snuck a glance back at me as it closed.
The Bevvie Bar had never felt so empty.
But I was full.
Of hope, warmth, and ideas that I should never let cross my mind.
CHAPTER5
Xavier
Itook my time showering and changing after practice, avoiding eye contact with my teammates because I wasn’t in the mood to talk. When I arrived, I texted the team group chat from the parking lot with the news about Opa. I asked them not to mention it, and they didn’t, but I was the recipient of over two dozen encouraging shoulder pats before, during, and after our time on the ice.
Between Opa’s passing and anticipating Penny coming over tonight, I couldn’t keep my thoughts on the ice. And they were going easy on me, which was well-meant, but I didn’t appreciate it at all. I needed to work hard and burn off my grief.
This was why I never dated during the season, or seriously, for that matter. Distractions threw you off and interrupted your focus. My dad could’ve been greater than Gretzky if he’d made hockey a priority. No major life changes, I always said. Opa’s passing was the majorist of majors.
Instead, Dad had gotten married at nineteen—nineteen!—and he and Mom hadn’t waited to start a family. A lot of hockey players got married young, often to their high school sweethearts, but that hadn’t been my parents’ story. They’d barely known each other. At least Mom’s parents insisted they wait until she graduated college. She was three years older than Dad and on a full ride to Mount Royal University. The day after she graduated, they eloped.
Instead of going home, I decided to stay for a workout. While I was tying my sneakers, Coach Sandquist dropped onto the bench beside me. “I want you tested again for a concussion.”
I sighed. “I’m fine, really. Just distracted.”
He stared at me hard.
There was no negotiating.
“Yes, Coach.”
An hour later, I was cleared again and sprinting on the treadmill. I tended to go overboard with my workouts, but it paid off. My endurance was exceptional. I could skate a forty-minute game without slowing down. The team knew they could count on me in OT—overtime. It was extra things like that which could save a player when it was time for cuts or trades.
Our practice facility was state-of-the-art, but I missed the Palmer City Sportsplex. The Plex was like a town within the town, featuring everything from youth leagues to the Edge’s minor league affiliate, the Palmer City Voltage. Olympic hopefuls trained there, and it housed every sort of business related to sports, from medical practices and therapies to equipment, and even a daycare and camps. Plus three rinks, two swimming pools, and countless courts and fields.
My favorite part of the Palmer City Sportsplex was the workout area. On the ground floor, it was open three stories high and featured a curved window wall that offered a stunning view of the mountains. I’d spent a lot of time there when I played for the Volts and still had a membership. There was no urgency for me to relocate to Denver. It was only an hour commute, and I was a small-town kind of guy.
No windows in this room at the Edge’s facility. The walls were painted in our colors and decorated with encouraging phrases and motivational quotes interspersed with framed photos of past teams.
My favorite wasPUSH YOURSELF TO THE EDGE.I’d pondered over the wording of it since I’d first seen it.The edge of what? Ability? Endurance? Was it meant to be punny?
After my run, I moved around the circuit, pushing and punishing myself until my body screamed that it was done. While the assistant trainer on duty filled my ice bath, I pulled out my phone to check my notifications.
Forty-two missed messages and eleven missed calls.
My chest tightened. I scrolled through but didn’t open any, noting the majority were from the family group text. Six texts and three calls were from an unknown number with Seattle’s 206 area code.
None were from Penny.
I checked the clock. It was nearing 5 p.m., so she was still working. We’d never set a time for her to come over, and I wondered if she’d have the chance to eat dinner. Would management provide it at the staff meeting? I didn’t know how coffee shops worked.
I texted her to find out.Will you get dinner at your staff meeting?After I sent it, I realized I probably should’ve led with something less abrupt. I wasn’t any good at small talk, but today I felt the urge to learn.
I tried to back up.Hi. I hope you’re having a good day. If you don’t have dinner plans, I could cook for us.
I rubbed my face and stifled a groan. That sounded so stupid.
I stared at my phone, waiting to see if she’d respond. When she didn’t, I set my timer for seven minutes and slipped into the icy water. After the initial familiar sting of cold, I was alert and relaxed. Closing my eyes, I let my thoughts wander and they found Penny, the first time I saw her.
I smiled, remembering how I’d told Opa the story, over and over again. The initial time, when we visited for Christmas, and since then he always asked me to tell it at least twice when I saw him. To Opa, and to whoever he had over for company.Zay-vyor,he’d say to me,tell zeh story of zeh coffee girl who plays the harp.
