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I guess like Travis and me.
Even though I’m having an off night, I’m still playing decent, just not up to my standards. I need to make something happen.
By the second period, the Coyotes have already scored twice.
I have my chance when the Coyotes get a penalty and create a power play. Stuck against the boards, I don’t have a lot of options, so I pass to Remy. He crosses over to the right, then left, and drops it back behind the net for me. Passing the puck behind me as I circle back around, I avoid the Coyotes center as he hacks at it. With a quick grab, I pass it through my skates and then lift it on my stick to snag the top left of the goal.
Fuck yeah!
The Coyotes score again before the second period is up, but I get another to the right of the goal, straight through the goalie’s legs to tie it up.
The very next play, I take the end of a stick to the eye that nearly knocks me out. I see stars, and then blood, and spent the third period in the locker room getting stitched up while we lose the game.
* * *
Losing is never easy.When you’re on a losing streak and your personal life is falling to shit, it’s even harder. You know this by now, but I’m an easygoing guy too. Not a lot bothers me, but losing, I hate it. I despise the feelings it brings with it.
Disappointment. Failure.
The first year I entered the draft, I was a first-round pick for Florida, only to ride the bench most of the season. Players like me don’t ride the bench. I make plays happen. If I can, I risk everything to swing a game our way.
So, when we lose, I take it hard. And personal.
We all do. We obsess over the plays, watch the highlights, and pick apart every detail from our playing to what could have happened.
Being on the road since I left Cabo, unable to talk to Callie, it’s the same concept for me because there I am, stuck on the highlights, with everything I did wrong or said wrong. You know I fucked up everything that happened in Cabo. I bet you’re disappointed in me, or hell, maybe her. I’m not to blame for all of it, and if I am, maybe I’m blind.
Mase and I sit on the plane together that night on our way back to Chicago, Remy on the other side of him.
Mase just got off the phone with Ami right before we take off from Arizona, but I wait for my prying questions, trying to appear a little less obsessive.
But I crack when the plane takes off. “Was Ami with Callie today?”
Mase nods, his eyes never lifting from the movie he’s watching on the screen in front of him. “Yeah, they went to dinner.”
I frown, staring at the evacuation procedures for the plane. So many times I’ve typed out a text message with my apology to Callie, but I know this one needs to come from the heart and with sincerity. And not through a text message.
In front of us, Remy sticks his head between the seats. Let me tell you something about Remy. He’s really good at adding himself into conversations and then pissing everyone off. I am too, but Remy has been doing it to me lately.ThatI don’t appreciate.
“Is she gonna have an abortion?” he asks casually, as if this is a conversation you would have every day. In Remy’s world, it might have been. I bet you money he’s knocked a girl up before. Probably Catelyn.
I’m kidding. But I’m tempted to point it out when he pisses me off like this.
“Shut up.” Mase groans, knowing he’s making it worse, and ducks when I reach over him to punch Remy in the ear.
“What? We all know Callie ain’t mother material. She fucks good, but do you really see her being a mother?”
Hatred fills my veins. My jaw snaps shut. I don’t want to hear it.
“Do you know what shut the fuck up means?” I ask, glaring at him.
Remy grins, trying to duck from Mase as he smacks at him. “Do you know what suck my dick means?”
I shake my head, some humor returning, despite wanting to punch my friend in the face. “No… but Ryan does,” Mase says, reaching for a pillow beside him.
Ryan snorts in front of us. “How’s your balls, Mase? Baby soft?”
Mase tosses the pillow over the seats in front of us at Ryan. “Yeah, come back here, and I’ll teabag ya. Put those baby softs right on your fuckin’ forehead.”