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CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Dozer

I check my phone during both intermissions, hoping to hear from Marissa. She normally texts when she gets to a game and then again at the end, but this time, she doesn’t.

If I needed further proof that I’ve royally fucked things up with her—which I don’t—this is it right here.

Yeah, she’s at the game—I got a text from Tina that she found her during the intermission between the first and second periods—but she’s in no way acting like her normal self.

The game’s over. We squeaked out a win in overtime, but no one feels much like celebrating. This is a team we should’ve beat with no trouble. We’re ranked far better, have more points this season so far, and yet they had the lead for over half the game. We had to fight for both points we scored, and when we still hadn’t scored by the end of the second period, I was starting to get worried we wouldn’t score at all.

I guess we all felt that pressure. Coach didn’t even say anything, which is somehow worse than a rant about how his grandma’s beer league could play better than we are—though, honestly, based on the stories he’s told, his grandma’s a badass, and it’d be an honor to have my ass handed to me by someone like her.

Nick was the only one who said anything when we came in after the second period. “They shouldn’t be able to beat us. We’ve won the last three times we’ve been up against them. Get your asses in gear and score some goals.”

Bozeman managed to sink a sweet goal just after the third period started, tying us up for the rest of the game. Then our good captain himself managed to land a goal in overtime, securing our win and ending what turned out to be one of the most grueling games we’ve played all season.

“They must’ve stepped up their training since we played them last,” Bouchard grumbles, dropping into his seat and bending to take off his skates. I haven’t even sat down yet, fishing out my phone in hopes of a text from Marissa first. Though I’m disappointed she didn’t message, I’m happy Tina did. At least I know Marissa actually came. Even though she texted that she was going to—which I took as a huge win—I wasn’t a hundred percent sure she wouldn’t change her mind at the last minute.

When I saw her in the hall yesterday, she looked like a deer caught in the headlights who’d been struck by selective mutism. She didn’t say a word. I did all the talking, and I felt like a human bulldozer, crushing Bambi with every word. I kicked myself the whole way up to my apartment, second-guessing my move all night long. That probably contributed to why I played like such shit today. I’m tired. I barely slept.

I’ve always been able to set aside distractions once I step onto the ice, and today was really no different. But I can’t force my body to function on minimal sleep, unfortunately. And I couldn’t force myself to go to sleep last night either. Not when my mind was spinning like that.

But no woman’s ever made me lose sleep before.

“Guess so,” I mumble in response to Bouchard’s statement, and his surprised look at me lets me know I waited too long for normal conversation rules.

“You okay, man?” he asks, leaning back in his chair. “You seemed slower than normal today.”

I’m not generally known for speed—not like Abernathy and Bowers—but I’m not exactly slow, either. So for Bouchard to notice I’m slower today …

I shake my head. “I’m fine. Just tired. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

A shit-eating grin tugs at his mouth. “Aw, man. Don’t you know you’re supposed to wait to celebrate until after the game?” He guffaws. “Partying the night before never ends well.”

“Ha.” It’s not a real laugh, though I try to fake it. “Naw, man. It’s not that. You know I’m not much for partying.”

“Not anymore,” he mutters.

I nod along because he’s right, I used to do that. But I’m not in my twenties anymore. That’s no longer as appealing as it once was. Not when I have Marissa to hang out with after a game or on my evenings off.

Except I don’t. Not anymore. Not since I fucked it all up.

But that’s what tonight’s about. Fixing things. At least I have Tina in my corner.

“Just plain ol’ insomnia,” I finish off, stripping out of my sweater and pads and heading for the showers. “Gettin’ old.”

“Man, you’re only two years older than me!” he shouts after me as I walk away.

“I know, you young whipper-snapper!” I call back, laughing at the, “Fuck you!” that follows me to the showers.

When I get back to my locker, I force myself to wait until I’m dressed before I pick up my phone again. If Marissa has texted, she’s texted. Staring at my phone won’t make one materialize, though.

I’m once again slightly disappointed to only have a text from Tina, though the content eases the sting a little.

Tina

I have Marissa with me. We’ll meet you at the family and friends area when you’re done

I’m not sure what black magic she’s worked to make that happen, but I’ll be forever grateful. I’ll have to ask Nick what I should get her as a thank you for her help that she’ll like and won’t be creepy.

But before I do that, I need to figure out how to get Marissa to stop hating my guts.

I hurry up and get dressed, mind racing but coming up with no good ideas. By the time I’m heading out of the locker room, the best I’ve come up with is to just act like everything’s normal the way I did yesterday. That got me this far, didn’t it?

Maybe I’m just overthinking. Maybe she wants everything to go back to normal too.

But if that’s the case, why wouldn’t she have responded to any of my earlier texts? Why wouldn’t she have texted me today that she was here or that she’s waiting for me with Tina?

“Dozer!”

I turn at the sound of my name to see Nick hurrying to catch up with me. “Dude,” he says, falling in step beside me, “take a breath. You look like you’ve been called out to a five alarm fire. That energy’s not going to get you anywhere good if you’re trying to convince Marissa you can act like a normal human.”

Slowing down, I suck in a breath and blow it out slowly, doing the yoga breathing that always helps me feel more centered.

Nick pats me on the back. “There you go. One more, then we’ll go meet the women.”

I look at him out of the corner of my eye while doing what he says. “Did Tina tell you to babysit me?”

He shrugs. “Would it really matter if she did or didn’t? You know that I know what’s up. You’re lucky to have me on your side.” His fingers dig into my shoulder, pulling me to a stop. He glances behind me and nods at someone, and I turn to see Jones and Carmichael heading out.

“You guys off to a party?” Carmichael asks as they pass.

“We gotta celebrate our win, man!” Jones adds.

Nick smiles insincerely. “I have a different kind of celebration in mind.”

They both whoop and holler as they push through the doors, leaving us alone again.

“Look,” Nick says, drawing my attention back to him. He holds up a finger, nearly pointing it in my face. “Marissa’s a great lady. You better not fuck her over.”

“Dude! What the fuck? I thought you were on my side.”

“I am,” he says, squeezing my shoulder again, but this time as a gesture of support. “I just think she’s good for you, and I don’t want you having your head so far up your ass you can’t see anything. So don’t fuck this up.”

He releases me, giving me a little shove so I take a step back. I hold up my hands in surrender. “Afraid it might be too late for that, man. But I’m doing my best. I always do.”

He sighs. “I know. You’re a good guy, Dozer. You deserve the best.”

“Thanks.” I rub my shoulder, and Abernathy rolls his eyes at me.

“Please. I’ve seen the kinds of hits you take on the regular. There’s no way that hurt.” He starts walking toward the doors again.

“I wear pads on the ice, though.”

He just shrugs, pushing through the door and holding it open for me.

I step through, taking in the group of people outside, some still waiting for players, some fawning over the players who’ve already come out—like Carmichael and Jones. Bouchard comes out behind us, stepping past me to a group of women who look like they’re ready to hit the clubs.

Nick picks his way through the crowd, finding Tina off to one side with Marissa who has her face buried in her phone.

“Good job with the goal in overtime,” Tina says, stepping forward to give Nick a hug and a kiss.

He grunts in response. “Shouldn’t’ve even gone in to overtime. We should’ve had it locked down by the second period.”

Making a sympathetic face, she rubs his shoulder sympathetically. “I know. But better a win in overtime than a loss.”

Another grunt from Nick.

Stuffing my hands in my pockets, I stand in front of Marissa, unsure what to do. She’s never acted like this around me before. Usually I barely even see her phone when we’re together unless she’s checking the time or something. A few times she’s been mid-texting conversation with one of her siblings, but usually she has impeccable phone etiquette, choosing to spend time with the real life person she’s with rather than staring at her screen.

And now? She looks like she’s just scrolling. She’s not actively typing, just occasionally swiping up on the screen to get to the next post on whatever social media app she’s using.

I clear my throat, still uncertain what to do, and uncomfortably aware that Nick and Tina have fallen silent and are watching us like some kind of weird dinner theatre show playing out in front of them.

Marissa finally lifts her face and gives me the world’s fakest smile. “Oh, hi. Sorry about that. It’s so noisy, I hadn’t realized you’d come out.” She glances over at Tina and Nick, turning the fake smile on them. “Tina greeted her husband, so I assumed he was alone.”

“No problem.” I pull a hand out of my pocket to wave away her apology, but feel like a weirdo who’s making overlarge gestures for no reason, so I stick my hand in my pocket again. I haven’t felt this awkward in my body since I was in seventh grade and had a huge growth spurt. I kept bumping into things and knocking things over because I wasn’t used to being that tall yet. Once again, I pull my hand from my pocket to rub the back of my neck, feeling awkward and not knowing how to resolve it.

“Want to go out for a drink?” Tina almost shouts. “I mean …” She looks between Nick and Marissa and me. “You won your game. And the kids are with the nanny. Shouldn’t we celebrate? We don’t need to rush home, after all.”

“Yeah,” Nick puts in after getting a meaningful look from Tina. “Let’s all grab a drink together. Whaddaya say, Marissa? You have time to grab a drink?”

“Of course she does!” Tina answers before Marissa can even open her mouth. “Come on!” She links her arm through Marissa’s and starts tugging her away, leaving Nick and me to follow behind. Marissa shoots me a panicked look, but can’t get a word in to Tina. She’s chattering like if she stops talking, the jig’ll be up, and the entire ruse will fall apart.

It’s possible she’s not wrong.

If she lets Marissa say anything, I’d lay odds on it being that Marissa’s too tired or has something early in the morning and can’t go out.

“Why don’t you just ride with Nick and me?” I hear Tina say. “We’ll give you a ride back to your car afterward, and then you won’t have to fight the traffic.” She leans in close like she’s trying to be conspiratorial, but she barely lowers her voice. “It’s so much easier to get out of the player’s parking lot than anywhere else around here, I promise.”

“Oh, uh, well …”

“Awesome!” Tina declares, as though Marissa agreed instead of the hemming and hawing she actually gave as an answer.

“I’ll take my own car,” I toss out, as though anyone’s paying attention to me at all right now.

“Perfect!” Tina chirps. “That way, if we have to dash off to the kids, Marissa won’t be left high and dry without a ride.” She follows that up with a wide grin and a thumbs up.

I don’t miss the wild-eyed look Marissa sends me. I’m not sure what she expects me to do. Tina’s the one driving this bus, and we’re all just passengers, including Nick.

Though if I were a betting man, I’d put money on me giving Marissa a ride later.