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TWENTY-ONE

JACK

NOVEMBER

My body had carried out this action hundreds of times in my career. As the small kid in primary school, as the still-small kid in my hockey boarding school, as the shrimpy guy in Juniors, and throughout my professional career as—surprise, surprise—still the small guy. I got in the middle of the zone and passed the puck to a d-man waiting on the outside, who either passed it to another waiting winger or slapped it himself.

It was just as satisfying as always, but this one meant a little more because I had done it 499 times before it.

My 500th NHL point.

It was bittersweet. I was happy, of course. It was a mark of how long I’d been in the league. A lot of guys don’t make it as far as I had. It was a mark of all the ways I’d helped L.A. and Toronto before that become winning teams. A mark of the life I’d dedicated to this sport and why I hung with it when I could have retired to take care of the kids.

But that came with mixed feelings. Was putting that piece of rubber in the net worth all that?

Then I looked around. Smiling faces on our bench. A few of our fans in the arena standing and cheering. These were my brothers, and I wasn’t ready to give up the brotherhood.

Sorrento went into the net to collect the puck so I could keep it. My teammates and coaches knew and got extra loud for me. But we were on the road, so the arena didn’t erupt in cheers. There was no goal horn. My kids weren’t there to see it. I wouldn’t be there to even sneak in their rooms and give them a quick kiss to celebrate. I’d have been shocked if my parents were watching or were even aware that I was close to the milestone.

Even surrounded by guys who supported me day in and day out, I felt alone.

I didn’t have anyone to celebrate with me.

And one face stood out in my head, and that face had no reason to be watching my games. I knew she’d be happy for me if she knew, but I wasn’t going to be the one to tell her.

As I warmed down, I could have crawled out of my own skin with the urge to tell her.

Mara.

Even if I wasn’t going to tell her about my achievement, I had to find some way to talk to her.

MOM

Congrats, lovey

We’re so proud of you. Give us a call sometime

“I can’t just say, hey, I’ve been thinking of you ,” I griped to Romey as we took our seats on the bus back to the hotel. He’d just been giving me shit for looking like hell when I’d achieved something so big.

“That’s exactly what you can say?” Obi chimed in from the aisle, waiting to get to his usual spot. “That’s a really nice way to talk to someone? Am I wrong? Am I bad at this?”

“Yes,” came a set of voices behind him. Obi flipped them the finger.

“He’s right. It is nice,” Rome said. “Plus, you don’t have to say you were thinking about her body or anything. It’s vague and that makes it kinda mysterious and hot.”

“I used to just pester Jessie when I was on the road and wanted her to pay attention to me,” Mikey said with a shrug and a clap on my shoulder. “Tell her you got five hundo and that she should be proud of you. Tell her it’s customary to get a hot pic when you hit 500.”

Stelle rubbed his forehead, like Mikey was giving him a headache just by existing. Which, kinda, yeah. “Don’t do that,” Stelle said.

“I can ask Gabriela,” Koretsov piped up, smirking down at his phone. “She can give a woman’s opinion.”

“Are you dating her already?” I asked. “That was fast.”

He grinned. “She didn’t go on that date with that other guy.”

“You dawg,” Mikey said, shoving his shoulder from the seat behind him.

“Did she say Mara said anything about me?” I asked a little too eagerly.

Romey whistled. “You’re down bad, brethren.”

I scrubbed a hand over my face. “I’m not. I just haven’t had to do this for a long time.”

“Leroy’s in looo-ove,” Mikey sang.

“Am not!” I said. “I’m never doing that shit again.”

“Never doing what?” Rome asked.

“The whole love thing.”

“So, what’s the goal here?” Obi asked, looking genuinely confused.

“Just . . . a companion. Somebody to hang out with who isn’t you dickheads. And to develop companionship,” I drew out the word, “I think you have to talk to someone regularly.”

Rome looked deep in thought. “Our kids had hockey tonight. You could see how it went.”

I snapped my fingers and pointed at him. “Yes. That.”

Tuning everyone else out, I picked up my phone. It was after midnight where we were, so just before her bedtime back home.

Hey. How’d the gang do at practice?

MARA O’CONNELL

The black thingie went in the net a bunch of times :)

So pretty good I think

You do know what it’s actually called right?

No. I need a big strong smart man to explain it to me.

I’m just a girl. (bow emoji)

I just have boobs. No brain.

My face flashed hot as I held back a laugh. Mara was funny. Like the kind of funny that actually made me laugh. But now what should I say?

Brat

Watch your mouth when you’re talking to me

Make me.

You don’t know what you’re asking for

Would love to find out

That could be arranged

Alright brat. I’m signing off. Too long of a day with another right behind it tomorrow

Wait

Yes?

My brain scrambled. I was being a selfish little prick. I just wanted . . . attention. If she stopped chatting, I wouldn’t get it anymore.

“Leroy, you wanna get a drink? I’ll buy,” Mikey said.

“Yeah, drinks on Mikey!” came a shout from the back of the bus.

“Um, ah, yes. But I need to . . .”

Can I call you?

Sure

The bus was pulling in at the hotel and I stood and raced to the front as soon as it was stopped, hopping off without a backward goodbye. I took the stairs to my room, ripping off my tie as I went. I got in my room and flung my suit jacket on the bed, already dialing her number.

Mara’s voice was tired when she answered. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

Silence hung between us, and I realized I didn’t have a plan for how this was going to go. I just knew she implied she had a bad day and I needed to know why.

A quiet chuckle came through. “What’s up, Jack?”

“You had a bad day.”

She snorted. “I sound that bad, huh?”

“Who?” I asked.

Her smile was in her voice. “I love how you assume someone wronged me.”

“Well, probably,” I said. “Who was it?”

“This is an awful lot of care for someone who’ll never love me,” she teased.

I winced, called out on my bullshit. “I said I’d take care of you, Mara.”

“You said you’d take care of me if I married you.”

“Offer hasn’t expired,” I said. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“You’re not going to like . . . put a hit out on somebody, are you?”

I laughed. “I don’t even know how I’d do that. But to be fair, you did ask me to beat up your ex.”

“Well, maybe I’ll cash in on that.” She sounded awful, a tired and haggard version of her usual self.

“Was it him?”

There was a pause before she said, “Yeah. He just has a way of making me feel like shit. And then once I feel bad, it’s like my brain’s signals get all fucked up and my pain is worse.”

“Fuck,” I breathed. “What did he say?”

She sighed. “He’s always mad I don’t keep Aspen up past his bedtime to talk to him. He wants to talk on his own terms. He never calls when we schedule a time, and it makes Aspen so sad. It’s just—” her voice broke off. “It’s hard to see my boy like that, you know? And it’s my fault he feels bad because I’m the one who picked him for a dad.”

“I’ll kill him.”

Mara’s laugh was wet. “Yeah, see, I knew you’d resort to violence.”

“He hurt Aspen. He hurt you.”

Mara was quiet for a minute. “Well. Enough about me. How was your day?”

“Not like that,” I said. I’d settled into the hotel desk chair, crossing one ankle over my knee and drawing little shapes in my suit pants like it was a wool blend zen garden.

“Good. I want to hear about it.”

“Seems unfair if I had a good day and you’re in pain and had a bad one.”

“Absolutely not!” she objected. “Tell me everything. I need good news.”

I tugged at the back of my neck. “So, I, uh, hit 500 career points.”

“Jack!” Mara cried. “Holy shit! When were you going to say something?”

“I don’t know, never?”

“That’s a really big deal, right? A major accomplishment?”

I finally felt it: a tiny little twinge of the joy I wanted to feel when I hit the milestone. Mara really was happy for me, just like I thought she would be. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“You guess? Jack, that’s incredible. Congratulations, seriously. How are you going to celebrate?”

This. I swallowed hard as that hit me. Celebrating was talking to Mara.

But it was just the need for companionship. Nothing more.

“Maybe grab a beer with the guys or something. I don’t know. Get up tomorrow and do it all again.”

“Well, drink one for me. Or wait, let me send you beer money!”

I laughed. “I think I can afford my own beers, Mar.”

“That’s not the point! It’s the ceremony of it. I can’t be there with you, so I’ll be there in spirit.”

“You could also just marry me, if you’re looking to do favors,” I tried.

“Oh my god,” she breathed. “You never quit, do you? Don’t you have some beer to be drinking? I should let you go. Go call your mom or something.”

I popped my jaw, my stomach turning. “I did hear from her. But it’s . . . complicated.”

I could almost feel Mara’s nod on the other end. “I get it.”

My throat was dry as I tried to brighten the mood again. “What about you? Can I send you bad day pill money?”

Mara’s chuckle was raspy and husky. “I wish it was that easy. Gabi always wants me to get high, but I’m still nursing Hazel.”

“Oh, so you need weed money?”

Mara groaned. “No. I’m fine. Just going to take a Tylenol PM and knock out.”

“Alright. Thanks for . . . this.”

“Thanks for calling, Jackie. Congrats again. I’m proud of you, even if I don’t really know if 500 is a lot of points or not. It feels like a lot.”

“Kinda.” I wanted to come up with more things to say just to hear her talk more. “Hope you feel better.”

“Thanks. Go have some fun. Night, Jackie.”

“Night, Mar.”