Page 35

Tobie

“I can hear you grinding your teeth,” Max says with a grin from the passenger seat.

Like an idiot, I thought the mall was busy on the weekend, but people out on a mild Sunday mid-morning are determined to clog up the road by driving five miles per hour.

When Javier kissed me goodnight, one kiss turned into him spending the night in my bed. He left this morning after a soft kiss I didn’t want to end and a promise to see me later.

I asked him where. He smiled and just said later. After he left, I lost count of how long I spent grinning like an idiot at the teddy bear he won me at the fair.

This traffic has killed off my happy morning in an emphatic fashion. I am now battling road rage.

Finally . I release a sigh of relief when the lights change, and I turn off the main road. “I just don’t want to be late.”

“They won’t care if you’re late.”

I pull up at a moderately full parking lot and unsnap my seat belt. “But I will. Come on. Let’s go.”

I assumed the cars belonged to the parents of the kids playing in the street hockey game, but most of the stands surrounding the enclosed asphalt hockey rink are empty.

The rec is fairly busy, and I take in people playing tennis and badminton in the outdoor courts that Max and I hurry past. Other families sit in the grass with their picnics.

We soon reach the outdoor hockey rink. The front rows are half-full, the jerseys reflect a fairly even split of parents from both teams.

As I sit in one of the front-row seats, the kids Caleb and I played street hockey with grin and wave. I smile and wave back, the traffic on the road suddenly worth it.

“I still can’t believe you played street hockey.” Max nudges my shoulder.

“It was fun.”

She places a palm on my forehead, and I bat it aside with a glare, ignoring her grin. “I’m not coming down with something. It was actually fun. Anyway, they said they were playing a big game and invited me to come,” I explain.

I’d expected to come on my own, but Max had stopped by my room and asked if I wanted to hang out.

Her idea of hanging out was maybe going for a coffee or a drive. I’m not sure she believed this was where we were going until I pulled up in the parking lot.

“I thought you didn’t like hockey,” Max says.

“I don’t,” I say, looking at the parking lot for the third time since I sat down.

“Who are you looking for?”

I shake my head. “No one.”

It was wishful thinking to hope Caleb would come.

He knew about the game, and I get that hockey is important to him, but I thought he would turn up, even if it were for just a few minutes to support the kids.

But maybe I shouldn’t be surprised. His maybe had the hallmarks of an ‘absolutely not’ when the kids’ coach had invited us to come.

I suddenly remember something and scramble to my feet. “I’ll be right back. Don’t let anyone take my seat.”

Max rolls her eyes. “Sure. I’ll just tell the tumbleweed blowing past to form an orderly queue.”

I hurry back to my car, unlock the trunk, and grab the poster I spent this morning working on.

When I return to my seat, I pull off the elastic I used to hold it closed and unroll the large poster.

“What’s that?” Max leans over to see.

“Just something to support the kids.”

She squints at it. “Is that an angry cloud?”

“It’s a storm.” I didn’t know the first thing about drawing a storm, so I drew a cloud, shading it in dark gray colors. When it didn’t look angry enough, I gave it black, beady eyes and a glowering face. “Because the Lamont Hurricanes will be whipping up a storm of victory.”

She laughs. “Right.”

“Shut up,” I mutter, embarrassed. “I tried my best, and we’re here to cheer them to victory. You can’t do that without a sign.”

Max shakes her head, still smiling. “Give me the other side of that. Do you even understand the rules?”

“Just score more goals than the other team. That’s all.” And before Max can ask me about any other rule, of which I know none, I wave my homemade banner and cheer.

Their coach looks briefly startled, then pleased.

The kids gape, surprised, then grin at me.

Max, for all her mockery of my angry cloud, cheers as loudly as I do.

The kids are down a couple of points against their rivals by the end of the first period.

The coach has them huddled together in a circle when the sound of a powerful engine distracts me.

“What’s that?” I glance toward the parking lot.

The rec is on a side street of downtown. The traffic noises have been distant and quiet.

Until now.

Now, there’s a rumble of an enormous engine, and it’s getting louder.

I’m still looking at the parking lot when a massive bus in dark blue, silver, and white pulls up. “What is that?”

“Fuck,” Max curses.

I glance at her. “What did you say?”

A loud whoosh pulls my gaze back to the parking lot, and I’m not the only one distracted.

My mouth gapes open when Caleb steps from the front of the bus, followed by a seemingly endless line of hockey players.

They’re all wearing their hockey jerseys but otherwise casual in jeans, sneakers, and boots.

Even Doc is there, and I smile when he nods at me. I recognize a couple of girls from practice, including Hallie, who I look away from when she glances my way.

No one is interested in watching the game anymore.

I finally notice something I don’t know how I missed before. The logo of a gray snarling wolf—or wolverine, I guess—and the team’s name running along the side of the bus.

“What are they doing here?” I mutter.

I’d hoped Caleb might show up, but for the whole team, including their coaches, it was far and beyond anything I’d expected.

“Keys,” Max says.

I frown at her. “What?”

“Car keys.” She’s on her feet, dropping the side of my poster and sticking her hand out.

Confused, I pull the keys from my pocket and hand them to her. “Why?”

“You have a ride back to campus, right?” Before I can stop her, she’s off, shouting, “I’ll leave your keys in your room.”

“But—”

She ducks around the back of the seats, disappearing from view.

“How much did we miss?”

I jump and twist around at Caleb’s voice drifting over my right shoulder. For such a big guy, he’s surprisingly quiet.

He stands right beside me. Close. Probably closer than he needs to but I’m not about to tell him that. “Uh, just the first period.”

“Just the first,” he tells the others, dropping into what was Max’s seat while Reid grins at me and takes the space on my right.

“What are you doing?” I ask him, grinning at Javier when he nudges Reid forward a couple of inches to smile at me.

“ Gatinha .”

“Did you know about this?” I ask Javier.

His lips quirk. “I might have. It was Caleb’s idea to surprise the kids… and you.”

“I didn’t think he was interested in coming here,” I tell Javier, lowering my voice.

“Doesn’t look that way to me,” he responds, just as quietly.

I follow his gaze to Caleb and silently agree.

Caleb cups his palms around his mouth and yells. “Let’s do this, Hurricanes!”

The kids freeze, eyes wide. I’m not sure if they’re going to die of excitement or have a heart attack to go from a handful of parents watching them play to having the whole of the soon-to-be championship college team shouting them to victory.

“That your sign?” Reid points at the half-rolled poster in my lap.

I nod.

“Want me to grab the other side?” he offers.

I nod. “Only if you promise not to laugh at my angry cloud.”

“Angry cloud?” he echoes.

I unroll the poster.

“Whipping up a storm of victory, huh?” A dimple forms on his cheek.

I point at him. “ Don’t .”

He grins at me. “Give it here. It’s great. The kids will think so too.”

“Sorry we’re late,” Javier says, leaning around Reid. “Brave was sucked into a black hole again. Made us all late, as usual.”

“Fuck you, Casanova,” a guy yells out.

“Shut it,” another guy shouts out. “There are kids around.”

Another player scoffs. “You hear the shit kids are saying these days? An F-bomb is nothing to them.”

As they argue, I turn to Caleb. “Thanks.”

He peers down at me. “For?”

I gesture to his teammates. “Bringing the rest of the team. Win or lose, those kids will never forget today.”

He slowly nods. “I couldn’t help but notice the way your friend took off like a bat out of hell the second she saw us.”

I look at the parking lot. My small silver Toyota Camry is no longer where I parked it. I don’t care about Max taking off like that, but I do worry about her. “I’m suddenly realizing that I don’t know Max as well as I thought I did.”

She has history with the hockey team. Serious history. There’s no way she’d have taken off the way she did if she didn’t.

I jump when Caleb’s shoulder bumps mine.

“So, you don’t mind hockey now?” he quietly asks me.

I think carefully about my answer.

“I don’t mind it. I mean, unless someone hits me with a puck, then I think I really would hate it.”

One corner of his mouth lifts in a half smile. His arm is still flush against mine, and he’s not showing any sign of moving away. That’s okay. Better than okay.

“Why did you come?” I ask him.

“It was important,” he says. “For the kids. To you. And to me. I didn’t realize how important until I told myself it didn’t matter. These kids deserve to have people cheer them to victory. I wanted it to be me. ”

“That’s sweet,” I can’t help but smile.

“Shh,” he whispers, giving his teammates a furtive glance. “Someone might hear you.”

I grin at him.

When I feel something brush against the back of my hand, I look down and then up again, meeting Caleb’s unreadable gaze.

Slowly, I twist my wrist so I have my palm facing up, and I release a quiet sigh when Caleb takes my hand in his larger one and gently squeezes it.

One simple action feels like he’s brushed up against my heart. Softening it.

There is no reason in the world for him to want to hold my hand. Not where no one else can see it. Our relationship is fake.

Or, it’s supposed to be

He gives me a probing look and his grip loosens, as if he reads the confusion clouding my mind. “You want me to?—”

“No,” I quietly interrupt him, squeezing his hand, struggling to identify the reason I don’t want him to let me go. “Don’t.”

His expression softens. “Then I won’t.”

The referee blows his whistle to commence the start of the second period, and all our attention swings back to the game.

We spend the next thirty minutes cheering the Hurricanes to victory, and after the game, the kids beeline to the players.

I hang back, watching as the coach who screamed at Reid when he kissed me for the kiss cam claps Caleb on the back. “Good to see you focusing on the joy of the game, Boucher. You’re setting a good example for the team about what’s important.”

“Yeah, well, I had someone else to thank for that,” Caleb says, looking at me.

The coach’s gaze is inscrutable as he glances at me. “Keep it up.”

“Tobie?”

I turn to face Trey, the kids’ coach. “Yeah?”

“I wanted to say thank you.” He couldn’t look any happier if he’d tried. “You’ve given these kids a core memory.”

I blush, shaking my head. “I’m not sure about that. I mean, I didn’t really do anything.”

He points his chin at the rolled-up sign in my hand. “You came, you threw your support behind them, and you gave the kids a reason to smile. Also, they love your slogan.”

Now I’m the one beaming. “They do?”

“Whipping up a storm of victory? How could they not?”

“Coach?” Caleb calls out as he walks over to join us.

“Yes?”

“I was speaking to my coach,” Caleb says. “I don’t know if you heard, but we have a big game coming up.”

“I heard,” the coach says with a smile. “You’re about to do something historic. Everyone in town is excited about it.”

Caleb shrugs like it’s nothing, but it is something—a massive deal. “Well, we can set aside ten or more tickets if you and the victors over there want to come watch us play. We can sort out some jerseys as well for them.”

I laugh when the coach nearly knocks Caleb over with his hug. “ Yes ! The kids would love that.”

Caleb seems the type who would punch someone who tried to hug him. I bite the inside of my cheek to hide my smile when he awkwardly pat the coach’s back as the kids go crazy with the news.

As our eyes connect, he smiles, and I smile back.