“Gross, you have a beard.” Wyn kicks my apartment door closed with her golf shoes, striding past the skates I tossed by the coat rack that’s empty due to the warm late April breeze.
It opens a second later, and Cruz struts through with a scowl. “Did you really just slam the door in my face, Wyn?”
“That’s what you get for not listening to me when I said to take I-40. It took us an extra twenty minutes to get here.”
I ignore their bickering and focus on the bland chicken breast spinning in the microwave. Wyn nudges me out of the way, pressing the stop button. “What are you doing? We’re getting lunch with Dad in thirty minutes. Go change and shave that beard. It’s not a good look for you. It’s giving seventies dad and not the hot kind.”
“It’s hard to shave with my left hand,” I say.
Thankfully, the sling comes off in a few days.
“Yeah, and it’s a playoff beard.” Cruz gestures to his stubble. “We all have one.”
“You call that patchy carpet on your face a beard?” Wyn huffs. “And no, it’s a breakup beard because he’s still wallowing about Nina, and he can’t play with his shoulder.”
Her name is like a slap.
It feels like I’ve been through the seven stages of grief over the past three weeks since she called things off. I went through this angry phase where I convinced myself Nina would’ve never fit into my life, but then I found one of her old T-shirts on the ground and smelled it for over an hour.
Chicken judged from his cat castle.
The throb she left in my chest is a constant ache, so I’ve been distracting myself with rehab and meeting with my sports therapist to discuss my potential retirement.
I’ve been pouring over my contract for the past few weeks, imagining a life without hockey, and I’m getting closer and closer to signing on that dotted line, but I can’t bring myself to do the deed.
I’ve tried looking at other women, but I feel sick anytime I so much as glance at someone else because they don’t have her beautiful eyes or sense of humor.
They don’t call me on my bullshit.
They don’t stand up for me.
They don’t make me feel invincible, even without hockey.
I’ve spent so much time focusing on all the ways we’re wrong for each other, I didn’t realize how right we are together, but none of that matters because Nina doesn’t want me, or this life, and I’m not going to ask her to change.
Wyn hops up on my marble counter, smoothing her white golf skirt. “Don’t worry, Ro. I’m a little sad about Nina too. I really liked her.”
Cruz nods. “Yeah, Phil was good for you.”
I shove my hands in my hoodie pocket, wincing at his nickname for her. “You didn’t think I was too old for her?”
Wyn waves a hand. “Please, not at all. Stop that. You’re the only one worried about the age difference. She made you smile all the time, and you were lighter around her. Less hockey, more Rhode, if that makes sense. I don’t care who you end up with as long as they make you happy.”
I miss her so damn much, and I didn’t realize how ingrained she’d become in my life until she left.
I swallow around the lump that got stuck in my throat a month ago, changing the subject because it’s hard to talk about her. “What are you two doing here? I thought we were meeting at the restaurant.”
“I didn’t trust you not to cancel on me and Dad, so I came over to drag you there,” Wyn says. “Cruz came with me for literally no reason other than the fact that he saw me at the arena looking for you.”
Cruz stares at my sister, or maybe he’s glaring, I can’t tell. “I wanted to check on Tremblay to make sure the old man’s okay. That’s why I came because I’m nice.”
Wyn sighs dramatically, looking down at her nails. “Get ready, Ro. No more sulking. You’ve never acted like this before, so pull yourself together. Even Nina looks more put together every time I see her in class.”
A rush of questions floods me. How’s she doing? Is she happy? Is she sleeping? The urge to bombard Wyn with them is hard to combat, but I grit my jaw.
With a grunt, I push open the door to my bedroom, leaving Wyn and Cruz bickering over who knows what in the kitchen.
My room’s a mess of clothing and gear, so I grab the first pair of sweats I can find. It’s a hassle with the sling. I put on a navy Guardians cap to hide my unwashed hair before walking into the kitchen without shaving. I’m not trying to impress anyone.
My beard’s fine.
Wyn and Cruz are nose to nose, shouting in each other’s faces. Well, Wyn’s yelling. Cruz is staring her down with a tight jaw. At the sound of my footsteps, they jump back.
Wyn huffs a breath and scans my clothing. “Really, Ro? This is a fancy restaurant. You can’t wear sweats. I told you to change.”
“Let them throw me out if they want. It’s not like I’m itching to spend time with Morgan.”
“Do you ever go to restaurants that aren’t fancy?” Cruz interrupts.
“No, because I have excellent, albeit expensive, taste,” she quips. “Something you’re probably unfamiliar with.”
“You know your insults bounce right off me, right?”
She flicks her ponytail. “Good thing I have a lot of them.”
“Can you two stop arguing for one second?” I pinch the bridge of my nose. With my injury and Nina leaving, my temper’s been simmering below the surface. “I’m not changing, so if they want to throw me out of the restaurant, fine.”
Wyn grabs her purse from the counter, swinging it around so it hits Cruz’s shoulder. “Fine. Let’s go. I’m starving, and Dad’s waiting.”
We leave the apartment and head down into the parking garage. Cruz trails behind Wyn like a lost kitten until we climb into my Range Rover. She slams the door in Cruz’s face before he can say goodbye, so I give him a sympathetic salute in the window.
Pressing the start button, I pull the car out of the parking lot, and Wyn goes off about Cruz. She talks at me for the entire fifteen-minute drive, never once taking a breath. With those lungs, my sister should’ve been an Olympic swimmer, not a golfer. Though, it’s a solid distraction from thoughts of Nina, so I’m glad she’s talking.
We pull up to the valet at the restaurant, and Wyn hops out of the car. She looks me over in my sweats, eyes lingering on some stain, and pulls me into a tight hug. “You’re going to be fine, Ro. Thanks for driving and for coming. It means a lot to me that you’re trying with Dad.”
“I’m only doing this for you.”
Tossing my keys to the valet, I hold open the restaurant’s door for Wyn. Chandeliers dangle from the wooden ceiling above the waiters carrying trays of steaming food. Every eye turns to me in my joggers, and I immediately feel out of place in the crowd of button-downs.
My father’s sitting in the corner by some fiddle leaf fig, staring at the menu through his reading glasses. I only know the name of the plant because Nina’s got one in her room that she loves. I wince.
Great. There’s that ache in my chest again. I scan the restaurant, jerking to a stop when I see the girl by the hostess.
No.
Sweat beads on my neck.
Nina’s by the counter with that art guy. Brandon? Can’t remember his name. Not that I care. At least she’s frowning at him like she doesn’t want him standing so close to her.
She’s wearing her overalls without a shirt underneath, so all her bare tattooed skin is exposed. She looks beautiful, but she’s not smiling, and I need her to be happy even if we aren’t together.
The asshole throws an arm around her shoulders, but she dodges the attempt. I swear the red I see is blood-colored. I’m going to break his hands for touching her if that’s not what she wants. No, I can’t because I’m in a shoulder brace, but I’m tempted.
Really tempted.
Maybe I’ll break a finger.
I sweep my good hand through my hair, trying not to act like an immature jackass. “What the hell is Nina doing here, Wyn?”
She twists her ponytail. “Oh, did I forget to mention that I asked her to meet me here to drop off some notes for my art history final? My mistake. I thought I told you. Didn’t I tell you?”
“You know you didn’t tell me,” I cut out, pulling at the back of my neck. “I would’ve shaved.”
“I specifically remember telling you to shave before we left.”
This restaurant feels like a sauna. I pull on the collar of my sweatshirt. “Is it hot in here? Feels hot.”
“No, I’m really cold.”
“Really? I’m sweating.” I tug at the material, airing it out. “You should’ve told me she was meeting you here.”
“But then you wouldn’t have come,” she says with zero shame.
Nina glances over her shoulder, and her eyes pop when she sees me. Her gaze drifts down my sweats, and great, I think she winces at the stain on my clothes. I scramble to take my cap off, fix my hair, and flip it backward since she likes it that way, and now Nina’s walking over here, and I miss her and want to hug her and fuck this, I’m hugging her.
I crush her against my chest.
My throat ignites now that I’ve got her in my arms again. I glare over her head at the flannel guy and press a hard kiss to her forehead. He rolls his eyes.
Nina pulls back, glancing up at me behind her glasses, and I paste on a stiff grin. “Hey.”
Smooth, Tremblay.
“Rhode…” She tries to step back, but I tighten my arm. I’m not letting her go. “You shouldn’t be hugging me like this.”
“Like what?” I smirk, trying to look arrogant even though it feels like someone pulled a ripcord in my throat. “Like I still want you? Like I want to know if you decided to walk the stage at graduation? Like you’re the only thing that’s been on my mind for the past few weeks?”
Wyn groans. “This is like watching a car crash. I’ll take the notes so you can go, Nina. I’m sorry about my pathetic brother.”
“He’s not pathetic.” Nina leans back, but not before I see the dark circles under her eyes.
I want to kiss her for that comment. This girl’s always got my back.
“Are you sleeping?” I ask, reaching out to brush her face, but she lurches away from me, and damn, that hurt more than tearing my shoulder. Guess she really is over us.
“I’m fine.” She digs through her messenger bag and pulls out her notes, handing them to Wyn.
“We need to go or we’ll miss our reservation,” flannel guy says, reaching for Nina’s arm.
“Reservation for what?” Fury heats my spine as I imagine them huddled over some candlelit table, but then Nina steps away from him.
“We’re fine, Noah. We’re not meeting the event coordinator for another thirty minutes.” She faces me, fidgeting with her bag. “We’re just going to check out the space for the charity auction. Nothing else.”
The rage in my chest settles when she gives me a sad grin like maybe she misses me too, and that look hits me right in the heart. It’s not the sex I miss most with her.
It’s these moments.
The silent conversations only we understand. The times we laugh at the same jokes. The smiles she gives that are only for me.
Nina’s eyes zone in on my shoulder brace, and she leans in, stroking a finger over the black fabric, seeming to get lost for a second before yanking her hand away. “Is everything okay? How’s rehab?”
“The sling comes off in a few days.” I cough, giving the art guy my best scowl. “My shoulder’s healing fine, so I should be cleared for fighting soon.”
Nina laughs, a real one, and dammit, if I weren’t thinking about throttling the guy, I’d want to make her laugh again. She squeezes my good arm, eyes rebounding between mine like she can’t figure out what to say.
“What?” I ask.
She stands up on her toes, kissing my beard, and I hate that I can’t feel her lips. “I’m glad you’re doing better, but we really need to go. Bye, Rhode.”
The asshole tries to put an arm around her waist, but she dodges out of the way again. Nina strides into the sunlight like an angel, and I jerk forward, fully intent on going after her and demanding she take my pathetic ass back, but Wyn yanks me by my sweatshirt.
“Stop, Ro. You’re not doing this right now. You need to get your shit together, and you need to figure out exactly what you want first. If that’s the League, you need to let Nina go, but if it’s her, you need to figure out what you’re doing with your contract.”
“You’re not going to think less of me if I don’t play hockey?”
Her blue eyes turn gentle. “No, Rhode. You’re my big brother.” She lightly punches my good shoulder, snickering. “I’ll always think less of you.”
I hook my arm around her neck. “I love you, Wyn, you know that? Even when you meddle in my life.”
“Yeah, yeah. I love you too. Now, go figure out what you want.”
“I know what I want. Nina. I just don’t think she wants me.”
Wyn pulls my arm tighter around her neck. “Oh, please. She showed up here, which means she wanted to see you because she misses you. So, you know what you’re going to do? You’re going to shave, wear a suit, and show up at her big event. Now come on, I’m hungry. Let her go for now.”
That’s the last thing I want, but she’s right. I’ve got to figure out my own life before I can be a part of Nina’s.
“I was always going to show up for her,” I say, staring out the restaurant until Nina gets in the car with the asshole.
I can’t think about her with him or I’m going to break my other shoulder by doing something stupid, so I force myself to focus on the lunch from hell.
“Why are you staring at your beet salad like you want to kill it?” Wyn’s voice breaks me out of my jealous thoughts. I can’t stop imagining Nina with that guy.
Kissing him. I stab a beet on my plate. Laughing with him. I spear another one. Fucking him.
“Ro?”
I snap my neck up. “What?”
She twirls her fork in the air. “You’re giving your beets murder eyes. Why? I thought you liked beets.” She glances at her phone and drops her fork. It clatters to her plate. “Oh, I forgot!”
She scoots back from the chair, grabbing her purse. I launch out of my seat. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
She gulps down her water and then slams the glass on the tablecloth. “I totally forgot that I have to teach a golf lesson. I have to go. You should stay and talk, though. Finish lunch with Dad.”
First Nina and now this?
I narrow my eyes. “Did you really forget you had a golf lesson?”
It would be just like her to meddle and force my father and me into spending time together. She hooks her purse over her shoulder. “No, I really do have a golf lesson that I forgot about. You two have fun. I’ll get a ride. Stay.” She kisses our father’s cheek. “Bye, Dad.”
“I can drive you,” I offer, standing.
“No. Sit back down. I said stay,” she commands. “Talk. Be together. Enjoy.”
Yeah, she planned this and the Nina thing. Wyn dodges through waiters until she’s outside, leaving a big pile of awkwardness for me to clean up. My father stuffs a beet into his mouth. I do the same. We finish chewing and then dab our lips with napkins.
He nods to my arm. “So, how’s the shoulder?”
“Fine.”
“That’s great.”
“Thanks.”
As I slip into my default one-word answers, Nina’s advice rings in my head. Maybe she’s right. Morgan’s going to be in my life, so I should try harder with him. Another jab shoots through me at the thought of her with that asshole, but I clear my throat, adding to our conversation.
“Well, my shoulder isn’t good, but it’s healing. I’ve been going to practices, and our backup goalie’s playing pretty well. Really well, actually. Feels like I’m passing on the torch in a way.”
Smithy won’t stop smiling now that he’s been handed the opportunity to prove himself as our goalie, and I can’t blame him. He practically came in his pants when Coach told him he’d be taking over the net.
My father sips his water. “Do you think you’ll be back next season, or are you still thinking of retiring when your contract’s up?”
I give my father the one-liner I tell everyone except Nina. “I’ve thought about it, but the team’s counting on me, so I have to come back next season.”
I flex my arm, gauging the pain. Not too bad today. I’ve been watching all their practices from the bench, and we won the last game with Smithy in the net. It was a blow to realize they don’t need me as much as I thought, but it’s also somewhat of a relief. To be honest, it’s nice to know Smithy can carry the team once I’m gone.
Less pressure on me.
“Have you talked to anyone about this decision?” Morgan asks.
“Yeah, last week I spoke with one of our sports therapists.”
“What did they say?”
“He said my pride’s holding me back from leaving the League because all the media bullshit made me want to prove everyone wrong. Classic athlete stuff.”
He might be right. I don’t want some journalist forcing my hand, and deep down, I’m nervous about what life without the League means, but the therapist made a good point.
So many players find fulfillment outside hockey. Mueller went on to become a world-famous poker player. Not that I want that life, but I’d finally have time to explore other passions.
My father peers across the table. His stare feels intense since the glasses make his eyes look bigger.
After a moment, he takes them off and folds them by his plate. “You’ve given your entire life to the League. You need to do right by you, Rhode. Not anyone else. You’ve always put everyone before yourself, and it’s time to be selfish. You’ve earned it.”
Irritation flares in me at his parental advice. It’s a little too late for that. My hands ball into fists beneath the white tablecloth. “And how would you know what’s right for me? Or do you want me to be selfish like you so you feel less guilty for leaving?”
He swallows but holds my fuming stare. “Leaving you, your sister, and your mom was the biggest mistake of my life. It’s the kind of choice that turns into a lifelong regret. I’ll never stop feeling guilty for that. Never.”
I pound my fist on the table, rattling the glasses. “Then why did you do it? And don’t give me any of your bullshit answers.”
My father takes his time folding his napkin and setting it down. In the time he’s been back, he’s never once raised his voice. “Because I was an idiot who didn’t realize what he had. I wish I had a better reason, but I don’t, and I’m done making excuses. Not everyone’s born to be a parent, and I had a lot of growing up to do. You’ve got to give everything to your family once you have one, but…”
He reaches across the table, gripping my good hand in a vice. I’m so shocked that I don’t pull away. “I need you to know something. It took me losing everything to realize that you, Wyn, your mom are everything to me. Coming back for my family was the best decision I ever made.”
My mind drifts to Nina, and the hole she left in my life. “Really?”
“Without a doubt. I didn’t realize what I had until I lost it, and I’m so grateful your mother gave me another chance. If I have to spend the rest of my life proving that I’m sticking around, I’ll do it. I know our relationship is tough, but you’re my son, and I love you no matter what.”
He squeezes me before letting go, and my hands feel cold when he releases them. I don’t know what to say, so we sit in heavy silence.
Maybe Nina’s right.
I would never want someone to hold my past version of myself over my head now, and that’s what I’ve been doing to my father. Holding grudges takes a lot of energy, and I don’t have much left. The League’s drained me. I’ve always thought about building my own family, but maybe I need to repair the one I already have first. We’ve got a long way to go, so this feels like the right place to start.
I meet my dad’s shining blue eyes, a reflection of my own, and release a breath that I’ve been holding onto for years. “Hey, Dad?”
He jerks. It takes him a second to respond. “Yes, son?”
“I know I’ve given you a hard time all these years, and you’re not off the hook, but I’m glad you came back for us.”
His grin widens into the most genuine smile I’ve seen on his face, and I can’t help but mirror it with my own. We both clear our throats, and my dad shifts in his chair. “Me too. Though, your mom wasn’t too happy. You know what she did when I came back?”
“What?”
He laughs at the memory. “Threw a butter knife at me.”
I chuckle, settling back into my chair with no intention of leaving. “Good for her.”
