The Puck Drop by Jaqueline Snowe

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Michael

The weekend was the Bermuda Triangle of feelings, and I honestly wished I could just make all the thoughts disappear. Not only was it our home opener for the season, but it was parents’ weekend and Naomi smelled so damn good.

It’d only been two days since she came over, and sitting next to her in the cold rink, hearing her sigh and laugh, was a special form of torture. It wasn’t like I could ask her to hang out after the game. She was supposed to have plans with her dad, which he better not cancel again. I hated seeing him as separate people—the coach and her father because he acted two different ways.

But, fuck, at least she could work things out with him at some point. She wasn’t going to spend the weekend alone like me. Sad Express, party of one. Sue me for wanting to distract myself from the weekend with her.

“So, Hank reached out to me about those motivation tests.”

“Hank the guy you have a crush on? About this high?” I held my hand in the air, ignoring the absolutely absurd bout of jealousy.

She rolled her eyes but there wasn’t the same playfulness in her expression as before. “Shut up, but yes.”

“Well, what did he say?” I frowned, swearing that her dad promised to work on getting the tests to the players. I heard him talking about it the other day. “About the tests?”

“Hank said all the guys on the team took it. The team will cover the cost as long as the results are actually helpful. My dad’s words, not his.” She bit her lip and tapped her nail on the clipboard. She painted her nails blue and orange—just like our school colors. “Do you think it’s odd that I’m working with you and Hank on all this stuff when it should be… my dad?”

YES. I wanted to demand answers from the guy about what was going on. It was so clear his daughter wanted to work with him, but the dude either didn’t care or didn’t want to return the gesture. But that wouldn’t be helpful for Naomi. “I’m sure he has a reason,” I said, my bullshit answer annoying me. I needed to change the subject. Move on from this because it pissed me off. No wonder the woman hated hockey.

“More importantly, have you started going through the results to make the profiles?” I leaned closer to her and fought the urge to push some of her hair behind her ear. It escaped from the hat she wore and looked so soft.

“I’ve done two players, yes. This project will take… weeks of constant work.” She rubbed the back of her neck and looked at me with her light brown eyes. So full of life and warmth. “I was going to ask, and you can say no…”

“Yes,” I said, flashing her a grin. “I’d love to get naked with you again as soon as possible.”

She giggled, and a light blush crept up her cheeks. “I mean, yes, I’ve been thinking about that a lot. But what I was saying was about you helping. I know you have your own class assignments and meetings with my dad, but… if you can somehow correlate them… I’d love you to help if you had an interest.”

“Help you with the project?”

“Yeah.” She frowned, and her tongue wetted the side of her mouth. “If you want. Obviously. I’m not trying to put off work, but it’d be cool to hear your side of things as a former player and potential coach.”

Spend more time with her, talk about hockey, and use it for my classes? There was no bad part of this suggestion. “Hell yeah, I’m in.”

“Don’t make fun of me,” she said, but I raised my brows. She elbowed me and kept going. “I have a schedule already set for the next two weeks of when I plan to work on it.”

She blushed and closed one eye as she scrunched her nose at me. “Say it. I know it’s dorky.”

“Not saying a word. Not one.” I pressed my lips together to hold back my amusement, but the longer the silence went on, the harder it was. Eventually, I snorted and let the cackle out. “You are such a nerd, my god.”

The crowd cheered, loudly, and I jumped up into the air as Erikson scored. I pumped my fist and high-fived the people around us before sitting back down with a new sense of adrenaline. They were playing as a unit this time. Cal Holt, not as much, but the rest of them were a team. A brotherhood. Exactly what a team should be.

My pulse raced, and my knee bounced up and down while Naomi studied me. “What?” I asked, unsure what the sparkle in her eye was for. Was it joy or the end of a joke I didn’t know about?

“You’re nerdy too in your own way. It’s society’s fault that sports are cool where data is nerdy. You guys use data to be better athletes, so honestly, the double standard is annoying.”

“Is your schedule color coded like your Gantt charts?”

She pursed her lips but not before I saw a quick smile. I knew her too well, and I nudged her knee with mine.

“Nerd,” I said, softer this time. “But I like it.”

She rolled her eyes but not with real heat, and we went back to watching the game. At some point in the second period, our hands touched on the armrest. It wasn’t anything scandalous, but the back of her hand rested against mine, and our eyes met.

Was she going to move? Was I?

It was dumb, dumb, dumb how my chest felt heavier and my breath caught in my throat from that simple touch, but here we were. I winked and made her smile grow before someone shouted super fucking loud. Two rows back, a visiting fan cussed up a storm, and the sound made us jump apart.

“People are so weird over hockey,” Naomi said, side-eyeing the dude with her lip curled. “For real. To have the confidence of that guy, standing up at an opposing stadium and not giving a shit about all the death glares he’s getting.”

“Takes some big balls.” I nodded and made sure to keep an eye on the guy. I didn’t think he’d throw beer or a punch, but I moved my arm around the back of Naomi’s chair. To protect her, obviously. “So, this schedule. When does it start?”

“Hm, probably tomorrow. I know you meet with my dad for post-game stuff, but if you want to send me a text when you’re done?” she asked, her tone hopeful.

I nodded, and I swore she moved closer to me. Her shoulder bumped my chest, and I breathed her in, forgetting for a few seconds that we were a few rows away from the team. It was like he could sense this shit—Coach turned our direction. I jumped away from her like she was on fucking fire.

My mouth was too dry, and sweat pooled down my back. Did he see us touching? Was he going to kill me? I didn’t get a chance to read his face before he focused on the game.

“Fuck,” I mumbled, wiping a hand over my face.

“Why are you stressed?” Naomi asked, her soft voice getting closer to my ear. She put her small hand on my back and rubbed it. God, I was always thinking of ways to touch her, and the one time she placed her cute hand on me, I wanted to shake it off. Her dad could see. Could see us.

“Nothing, it’s fine.” Even I realized my voice sounded off. The rest of the game went like that with Naomi leaning closer to me, a casual brush of our fingers. But the harsh reality was that we agreed no one would know we slept together. We’d be friends on the outside, freaks on the inside. This was to protect me from Coach. My soul hurt, and I felt like an asshole because she knew something changed. Even after the final period ended, the line between her brows was permanently there.

I wanted to explain I mentally pulled away because of her dad, not because of her. She had to understand that. But every time I tried, it was like my voicebox broke or forgot how to work. The words wouldn’t come out, and now I worried she thought I was mad at her. Fuck, this was the shit I hated. The emotions. The anxiety. I took a soothing breath as we stood and waited to start leaving the row before I forced myself to talk. “Tomorrow then? I’ll come over.”

“Yeah, if you want.”

“I do.” I nodded, hard, like that would explain my inner turmoil. If my nerves were a circus, they were the trapeze artists flipping around and doing weird shit in the air. Messy. Terrifying.

She looked at the ground, and her shoulders slumped, making me feel like an ass again. This was my fault. My reaction to her dad had her hesitant around me. I took her hand, stopping her from walking any further. She met my eyes and tilted her head to the side.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“I had a moment, okay? Your dad looked over as us, and I swore he could tell what we did.” There, I said it. I put the words out into the universe. “We’re definitely keeping this on the DL, right? Because of him and my internship?”

Her eyes dimmed just a bit, but she nodded. “That’s what we agreed on.”

“Okay, cool,” I said, still unsure about the tension. “There’s nothing more to it than your dad. At least on my end.”

She twisted her lips into a half smile as our hand still touched. I wanted to kiss her to make it up to her, but that was out of the question.

“I’m sorry I acted off. You’re my favorite person to hang out with here even though my behavior didn’t reflect that at all.”

Her cheeks pinkened, and just like that, the sparkle was back in her eyes. “Favorite, huh? A compliment like that might go to my head.”

“Great, I regret saying it now.”

She scrunched her nose and tugged the back of my hoodie with her hand. She pulled me toward her just a bit. “You’re on my list too, you know. Like, top ten.”

“Top ten favorite people? Wow, hit a guy where it hurts.”  I playfully swatted at her, and she giggled.

I decided that was in my top favorite sounds. But I wasn’t going to fucking tell her that.  We pushed through the doors, and I took a deep breath of the chilly fall air, hating that we had to say goodbye. Heading to my place alone sounded as fun as a root canal, but I knew how important it was for her to hang with her dad. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

She nodded and had that same, hesitant look in her eyes. I bent down to whisper in her ear. “I wish I could kiss that fucking mouth, Naomi. Tomorrow can’t get here fast enough.”

She hummed in response and shoved my chest playfully. “Be good, Reiner.”

“Don’t trip, Fletcher.”

The hesitant look left her eyes, thankfully, and she waved before walking toward the locker room. That meant I was by myself until Coach texted me when to meet in the morning.

I scanned the crowd and saw parents everywhere. It was obvious with their clothes and graying hair. Sure, a couple of moms were hot, but it was the laughter and joy radiating from all of them that snuffed out the fire Naomi lit inside me. Even Freddie was out with his folks.

Fuck it.

I was going to a bar.

I shoved my hands in my pockets and let my grief consume me. Each step took twice the effort as the familiar emptiness spread through my body. My stomach ached the same way it did all those years ago when I was at the funeral. Why did this happen to us? How were we supposed to go on through life like this? Parentless? I took a deep breath of the cold air and fisted my hands at my sides.

I needed a drink to take the edge off. The urge to punch a wall threatened to take over, just to feel something besides grief.

What would my parents think of me now? Would they be proud or annoyed? Ashamed that I never made it to the pros?

No, they wouldn’t. I ignored that thought immediately. They always encouraged me to be a good teammate, the best leader, and they had no crazy ambitions for me to go to the NHL. They wanted me to be happy. End of story.

Was I happy though?

I smiled a lot and woke up ready to go, but happy? Like Ryann happy? I wasn’t sure. My sister found joy in every moment while I avoided feelings like it was professional sport.

My mind wasn’t in any better shape by the time I got to the local bar right next to where I lived. Coop’s Stoop was the perfect grunge bar with cheap specials. That way, I could have a few drinks and only had to walk a block. Not bad at all.

Plus, this place didn’t have a ton of the parents visiting. This was off the path more, which was what I wanted. I ordered a whiskey and got comfortable at the bar, focusing on the basketball game on the TV. The NBA wasn’t my thing, but it was distracting enough to not think about all the feelings.

The fucking Bermuda Triangle again, hitting me hard.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” a hard voice jolted me from a haze. I followed it to see Cal Holt propped up on the stool next to me, his eyes cold and his jaw tight.

I blinked, unsure of why he was in a bar. He was eighteen. And why he was right next to me. “There are ten other places to sit. Move.”

“This is my place. You move.”

“You’re not even of age, nice try,” I said, taking another long swig of my drink. “You could get deep shit for this.”

“My cousin owns this place, alright? It’s fine. Unless you fucking narc on me,” he said, his neck flexing as he glared at me.

Glare away kid. I can beat your pompous ass. I said no such thing and kept to myself. This wouldn’t end well for either of us. It wasn’t my business what the kid did in his own time, and I drank underage when I was eighteen too. That wasn’t news. It was just his attitude and entitlement I despised.

“Cally, my dude,” a large man with a huge beard walked out from a bar door and held out his knuckles. He had graying hair and had to be in his forties. “You played okay tonight.”

“Okay? I did better than okay.”

“I swear, if I wasn’t your pseudo parent, I’d smack you in the mouth.” The man slapped Cal’s hand as he tried to reach for a bottle of vodka. “Not now.”

“What?” Cal snapped, the icy tone I heard all the time escaping him. “Why not?”

“I know this shit is hard for you, but dude, there are cops everywhere. My job is more important than your pity drunk party.”

Keep to yourself. Don’t listen. Finish the whiskey. Go home.

“I need a fucking drink, Dan.”

“And I need to keep my license to live. If you want to fuck up your scholarship, I’m not helping tonight.”

Cal slammed his fist on the counter, and something about the conversation nagged at me. The familiarity of it. The unshed emotions lingering in the words. Why would tonight be hard for him? He won a game… he played well...plus, the guy said pseudo-parent… Fuck. I scrubbed a hand over my face and stared at the ceiling for two seconds.

“Come on, Holt.” I put my hand on his back, a little harder than I should’ve, and dragged him off the stool. “You want to get drunk and risk your career because you’re having a prima donna moment, then do it at my place. It’s next door.”

“Don’t touch me, Reiner.”

Dan narrowed his eyes, and I let go of the kid. “I’m interning with the coach of the hockey team. Former player. I don’t like the guy, but if he wants to get drunk, I prefer he does it away from people.”

Dan grabbed a card from his pocket and jotted something down. “Give me a call if shit goes bad. I’m here until two tonight.”

“You got it.”

“Stop talking like I’m a fucking kid,” Cal said, the emotion fully escaping his voice now. He sounded hoarse and sad.

“Then stop acting like one,” I said, wanting to somehow make his anger at me and not Dan. “You’re not the only one with parent issues, alright? So, we’re going to go to my place, get drunk, and yell at each other.”

He stared at me with anger swirling in his eyes before he nodded. “Fine. Just, fucking lead the way.”

“Wonderful manners. Bright kid, I tell you,” I said to Dan, making him bark out a laugh as I pushed Cal out of the bar and led him to my place. We marched into the living room, and I got two beers out of the fridge. Before I handed one to him, I leveled my gaze. “You can have all you want, but you crash here. If that’s a problem, then you can fuck right on out the door.”

He nodded. “Whatever. Going back to my shitty dorm with my weird-ass roommate is the last thing I want to do anyway.”

I handed him the beer and waited. He gulped until half of it was gone before he looked at me with a sneer. “Why you staring at me like a fucking creep?”

“Dude, lose the stick up your asshole man. Do you enjoy being the most hated person on the team? Seriously. You can have all the talent in the world, but you suck as a human.”

His eye twitched, and he took another long swig, finishing it off fast. He jumped up and went to grab another. I didn’t say anything as he sat back down and chugged. I worried he had a drinking problem and debated how to approach this with Coach. Because it was clear this kid might be a prick but something was going on.

Minutes of silence passed by as I slowly drank mine and watched him struggle with whatever was going through his obnoxiously large head—from ego, not physically large.

“I don’t love being this way,” he said, so quiet I almost missed it. “It’s this weekend. I just… I feel like I’m going to burst out of my skin.”

“Parents’ weekend, specifically?” I asked, my own voice filled with emotion. “It’s hard for me too. I lost mine four years ago. It’s just my sister and me, and she’s back east.”

Cal looked up at me, and for the first time since meeting him, he didn’t glare. The ice that was always there melted away, and he looked exactly like a sad, lonely teenager should. “So, it’s just you.”

“Just me.”

“How do you…” he started before cleared his throat and leaned back on the couch. His entire body language changed. He relaxed and spread his legs apart, turning into a human form of butter. “Does it get better?”

“The grief? No. You learn to manage it. I’m still fucking dealing with it four years later. I was going to get shit-faced drunk because seeing all the parents at the game tonight almost made me lose it.”

Cal set his beer down, and his knee bounced. “Last year. It was just my mom and me since my dad took off when I was born. She wasn’t feeling well. Went to the doctor and was told she had three months left. She didn’t make it two. I just… Never got to fucking prepare for it. It was the two of us and…” Cal sniffed, and my entire heart broke into a million pieces.

I had Ryann. I had the team. I had my coach and hockey to heal me.

Cal had… Cal. And that guy next door.

I moved from the chair to join him on the couch. I didn’t sit too close to him but near enough to show support. “I’m sorry. There aren’t enough words in the world to explain how much this fucking sucks. I wouldn’t wish the grief on my worst enemy, Cal. But you need to deal with it. Talk to a counselor or therapist. You’re letting your grief ruin your future.”

He hung his head, and his shoulders shook.

Cal was crying.

My own eyes stung a little at how relatable this was. I’d been there and revisited that grief often. But having people around you… even like Naomi, made such a difference. My voice was rougher than normal when I put a hand on his shoulder. “Want to meet at Dan’s once a week? We can talk about this… or not. We could eat or glare at each other. But from my experience, talking about it does help. I had my team help me every step of the way. The guys could be like that if they understood.”

“Knew I was a weak pathetic mess?” He wiped his face and brushed off my hand. “No. I’m Cal Holt. I’m already drafted.”

“Oh cool, yeah, I didn’t know because that’s all you mention, ever.”

He snorted exhaled. “I’m such a dick. I know I am. I wasn’t always like this, it’s just…”

“It’s easier that way. Why let people get close if they can leave you?”

“That’s exactly fucking it.”

“We’re having a YouTube night.” I got up and grabbed the remote. “The guys used to do this out east. Try to find the weirdest video on YouTube. We go back and forth and announce a winner at the end.”

“That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard.”

“Don’t care. You’re drinking my beer at my place. We’re going to do what I want.” I started with a comedy bit about deer, and after three minutes of it, Cal almost smiled. It went on like that all night, six beers in and way past two in the morning. It was the better than my original plan for the night, and after I tossed him a blanket for the couch, my mind went to Naomi.

She’d get a kick out of this. Cal and I being buddies. My tipsy brain refused to acknowledge my own hypocrisy of how being just friends with her was mainly about protecting myself. I could worry about that later.

For now, I was a little drunk, but I wasn’t in tears after missing my parents all day. It was the best-case scenario for me, and honestly, I might’ve found another friend.