Page 117 of Lucky Shot
I hold up the key on a thin red rope. With my lips at the shell of Pretty’s ear, I say, “You’re mine. Do you understand, Pretty Boy? Every single piece of you belongs to me.”
His breath is shaky, his bottom lip trembling as he nods. “Yes,” he whispers.
“I willnotlet you go. I willnotgive you up now that I’ve finally found you. Do you hear me?”
Pretty blinks several times and nods. “Yes,” he whispers.
“While I’d love not to give you a key, I’m going to because I know you can’t wear that during hockey games and practices.” I stick the key on the red rope into my pocket and press a second, on a pink rope, into his hand. “You also don’t have to wear it in public. Or even around your house if you’re uncomfortable. But whenever you’re feeling unsteady or afraid, put it on and remind yourself that I’m the only one with a key to this. No one gets to take this off you except for me. Okay?”
He takes a deep breath and nods. “Okay. Yes. I like it.”
“Good.”
For a long time, we stand there. I have him wrapped in my arms and we stare at our reflections in the mirror.
I don’t ask him if he’s ready to go when it’s time. I just drag his suitcase from the bed and take his hand, leading him from my house and loading him into my car. We’re quiet on the way to the airport, our hands clutched together in a vice grip.
We talked about this a few days ago when we weren’t quite as broken up over this moment. I wasn’t going to go in with him. So when I’ve unloaded his suitcase, I hug him fiercely. “I love you, my Pretty Boy. Know that distance will not change that. No matter how far apart we get.”
He sniffs and nods. “I know. I love you too. For the past several years, I’ve been waiting for someone to sweep me off my feet. I think you’ve launched me into orbit instead.”
I chuckle.
“Or something less corny.”
I kiss his cheek. “It’s going to be okay. I promise.”
Pretty takes a step back while inhaling deeply. “Yes. It is.” There’s an intensity in his voice and determination on his face that makes me smile. “We’re going to get through this chapter and then we’re going to have our entire lives together.”
“Exactly. Now go before I get yelled at.”
His mouth lands on mine and for another minute, the world around us fades entirely. It’s just us, floating there in a void. The only beings in existence. Just us.
Then he pulls back. He determinedly doesn’t say goodbye and grips the handle of his suitcase as he backs away. I bite my tongue, so I don’t say goodbye either. It’s a force of habit. When someone leaves, you say bye.
“Text me,” I tell him. “When you land. When you get home.”
“I will,” he says.
“Be safe.”
“I will,” he repeats.
I watch him disappear behind the glass doors and then force myself to get into my car and drive away. This is so much harder than I imagined. We knew this was coming. How could we not? Knowing it was coming certainly doesn’t make it any easier.
By the time I pull into my driveway, I feel sick to my stomach. It’s not with dread; I’m not afraid of the same things Pretty is. I’m not afraid of the future and what lies ahead. Not even the obstacles that we may face.
It’s not fear of the unknown that makes me sick.
It’s simply being away from Pretty and knowing I won’t be with him again for almost two months. The first game we play against each other is at the end of October here in Edmonton. He’ll be able to fly out a day or two before his teammates, since both of our previous games are on the twenty-fourth and then we don’t have another game until we play against each other on the twenty-seventh. If everything goes as planned.
“It’s fine,” I tell myself. “Everything is fine.”
As I step out of my car, my phone pings and my stomach flips when I see it’s from him.
Pretty Boy
Boarding now. I can’t believe I have to leave you.
