Page 33 of The Hockey Player and the Tutor
The crowd goes wild as the lamp lights and the horn blows. We’ve taken the lead with two minutes remaining in the final period.
This is what I’m here for. I needed this win more than anything after the shitty, fucking, heartbreaking week I’ve had. I circle up by Brecks and throw my arm around him before he skates off in a celly lap. Then I turn to skate off toward the bench when a sign, pressed up against the glass in the stands, catches my eye.
It’s on bright lime green poster board and it reads?—
My Birthday Wish – A kiss from #17
I chuckle and shake my head, laughing at what some fans will do to get a hockey player’s attention. Birthday or not, I don’t want to kiss anyone but Brinly. I miss her so fucking much.
I’m about to skate away and forget all about the request when the sign moves and from behind it appears Brin’s face.
She wears an apologetic smile and flattens her gloved hand over the glass. I blink in confusion.
What the hell is she doing back here?
I thought I’d never see her again. I’d tried texting her at least a hundred times since she left me with no response. The last I’d heard, after hounding Lola about Brin’s whereabouts, was that Brin was back in Connecticut and Lola was under strict orders not to divulge anything more than that. Even when I tried bribing the information out of her, Lola was a steel trap.
“Lo, if you tell me how I can get ahold of Brin, I’ll tell you which of my teammates has a thing for you.”
Although I saw a sparkle of interest in her eyes, Lola remained tight-lipped and wouldn’t give it up. I was left with no other means of finding out what had happened with Brin.
And now here she is in the flesh. Offering me a sweet smile and her hand as I skate past her seat.
I jump over the boards and take my spot on the bench, my brain warring between the competing factors happening right now. The game or Brinly.
My gaze moves from the action on the ice, where the Montana team has possession of the puck, and the beautiful girl in the stands next to me.
My head feels like it’s being pulled by a tractor beam as I turn to look over in the student section and see Brinly watching me.
And then my heart lurches when she makes a heart with her hands and points at me before mouthing the words,I’m sorry. I love you too.
The minute the end of the game buzzer sounds, I’m off the bench and down the corridor toward the locker rooms. I shower and change in record time and grab my phone from my locker as I wait for the coaches to come in to give us the rundown on the game.
There’s a text from an unknown number.
Unknown: Hi Preston. It’s Brinly. I have a new phone.
Unknown: Can I see you after the game? I’d really like to talk to you and explain.
Unknown: I understand if you never want to see me again but I’d really like to apologize in person.
I type out a quick reply just as the coach huddles us up and I have to put my phone away.
Me: Okay. Meet me at my apartment in 30.
* * *
Jesus Christ. Of course on the one night when I want to get out of her fast, Coach gives the longest post-game winning speech in his life. He went on and on about our offensive tactics and what we can do better next time.
I’m out the door as soon as he says, “Good game tonight, boys. Now go celebrate.”
And then I’m rushing home where I hope Brinly will be waiting for me.
When I reach my apartment door, she stands on the precipice of the landing. My hands shake with the desire to pull her into my arms and forget about all the hurt when she left me. But I know I need the explanation to move forward.
That is assuming she still wants to. Maybe she’s here only to apologize and that’s it.
Swallowing the boulder-sized lump in my throat, I fish out my keys from my pockets and nod my greeting. “Hello, Brinly.”
