Page 5

CHAPTER 5

Charlie

I slip the skates over my feet and press my weight down onto them, settling into the comfortable routine of lacing them up and preparing for practice. After growing up in the sport, I could do this in my sleep.

My teammates race past me, headed to the ice. I shift subtly, angling my body so I can see better out of the corner of my left eye as I lace up my skates. The position allows me to see what’s coming and I recognize that it’s a response to what happened in the past, but I don’t correct myself or force myself to relax. These instincts are there for a reason, and it doesn’t hurt to be aware of what’s going on around me.

I don’t think anyone close to me is aware of how jumpy I can be. I always feel like I’m looking around the corner, always waiting for the other shoe to drop. I’ve been on the Rangers for a long time now, and these guys have proven themselves mostly trustworthy, but I still can’t seem to relax.

I was tempted to completely quit after…we’ll just call it The Event . There was no way my dad would have let me, though. My hockey career was and is everything to him, not me .

I used to be loud and goofy and the life of the party, but I retreated after everything that happened. I didn’t ever go to a therapist, but I’m sure I was experiencing some sort of depression. I’ve mostly figured out how to deal with it at this point in life, and I’m far enough away from the past that I can manage. I know those close to me noticed the shift in my personality, but no one pushed and I wasn’t about to open up my deepest wounds if I didn’t have to.

I stand and walk towards the ice, hopping the boards and skating a few slow laps to warm up. I observe my teammates as I stretch a little and for the first time in a while I feel a pang of jealousy. It’s probably because of all this talk of being more liked, but I find myself feeling bitter at their easy conversation and laughter. The way they trust one another on and off the ice.

I trust most of these guys on the ice, they’re good at what they do and they love it, which makes them pretty well qualified. Off the ice is another story. Not because they’ve done anything to prove that they aren’t deserving of trust, but because I haven’t even given them the opportunity to earn it.

That has to change though, because along with Sophie’s desire for me to make the public like me, she also wants me to improve my relationships on the team. Fake dating someone sounds easier than making friends with these guys, if I’m being honest.

I spend the entire practice thinking about the best way to strike up a conversation with Soren Wright, a left winger on the first line with me. He’s a few years younger than me and started his contract with the Rangers last year. From what I’ve observed, he seems like a good guy. He’s always offering to stay after practice and help other players on the team if they’re struggling with a skill or offering to stay back and help our equipment managers if things get crazy. I keep reminding myself that just because I speak to him and try to make friends, doesn’t mean I have to give him my trust.

We do a few drills and I feel good today. Coach calls out orders and critiques as we play and I get lost in the feel of the ice beneath my feet. Despite the fact that I resented this sport at one time in my life because of the pressure from my dad, it really has become a place for me to release all of my stress. My thoughts and worries disappear when I’m on the ice, and the game is the only thing that exists.

As we wrap up, I place a heavy hand on Soren’s shoulder.

“Nice job out there today, Wright.” I hold my hand up for a first bump and it lingers there in the air for a second. The shock on Soren’s face is evident and he clearly is so stunned that I’m speaking to him that he doesn’t register the gesture. When he doesn’t raise his fist to meet mine, I go ahead and use mine to tap his shoulder.

“Sorry, man, you too. You’re always great on the ice.”

The compliment makes me uncomfortable, something within me trained to not accept it, but I push past it and try to continue the conversation. I just keep reminding myself that casual conversation is a small price to pay for another few years here.

“You got any big plans this weekend?” I ask.

Soren hesitates again, but recovers quicker this time.

“Not much, hanging out with a few buddies.” He reaches his hand back and rubs his neck. “A couple of the guys and I are going to Teddy’s for beers after this. You wanna join?”

I should say yes, but the interaction itself was enough of a stretch for me today. I’m supposed to be making friends, and I am trying. After this conversation, I’m going to say that mission is accomplished for today.

“Thanks for the offer, but I’ve got plans tonight.” I don’t. “Maybe next time.” I’m lying.

“No problem, have a good night.” He slaps me on the back and we both head into the locker room. I shower and change quickly, making an effort to be sure I don’t end up alone in here, and gather my things before heading out and climbing into my Lexus.

The door closes behind me and the silence feels like a weighted blanket. It’s comforting and I lean my head back against the headrest, close my eyes, and take a deep breath. Sometimes if I think too much about how my personality has changed over the years I get sad. I used to be such a people person, and now it takes so much effort just to be in a small group. That’s why I stick with Cami and Alana now.

I pull my phone out of my bag and find a few texts from my sister and best friend discussing plans for the next few weeks. Alana is leaving soon for her business trip and will be gone for a full month, so we’re trying to pack in lots of time together before then. I don’t really do any of the planning, I just show up wherever they tell me to be.

I drive home in silence and after twenty minutes I pull into the garage of the building I live in. I use the private penthouse elevator and make my way up to my place. It’s big, way too big, and was furnished when I moved in so it feels sterile. I haven’t added anything to liven it up or bring any warmth and it shows.

I grab the dinner my chef prepared that is sitting in the microwave and stand as I eat it, swallowing it down in a few minutes. Walking up the stairs, my feet feel incredibly heavy. I am going to sleep well tonight.

After changing, washing my face, and brushing my teeth, I sink into my California King mattress and sigh deeply. The cold sheets feel nice against my skin and bring me into a state of relaxation almost immediately.

I close my eyes and wait for sleep to take me, except it never does. I just lie there, eyes closed, listening to the sound of my own breathing and the silence of my home. Over the last few months it’s started to feel more and more empty. Lonely.

I open my eyes and groan in frustration. I bet the guys are still out right now, laughing and drinking and enjoying one another’s company. I run my hands through my hair and pull a little at the roots in frustration. I wish it was easier for me to just make friends. I can’t start and carry conversations like a normal person and that is infuriating, especially because I used to be able to.

Eventually I give up and climb out of bed, throwing on swim trunks and grabbing a towel. I head out the door and up to the indoor pool to loosen my muscles and wear myself out enough that sleep comes easily.