Page 14

halle

Tyler got the Calder. Of course he did. He also won the Art Ross Trophy, easily clinched with his staggering amount of points and his playoff feats. I was proud of Tyler. Such big accomplishments for such a young player. Sometimes I got overwhelmed by how good he was. Patrick Kane was one thing. Tyler Dewalt was a whole different level. He was fresh blood, already a big face for the Blackhawks and the league.

I wondered wryly if my parents and siblings would recognize him. I knew my brothers would recognize Connor McDavid if he showed up on my arm. What about the NHL's newest top rookie? I guess I wouldn't be able to find out for awhile. After work started, my weeks would be full. I had some time off in early September, but I figured Tyler would be crammed with early hockey season then. Who knew when I could introduce him to my family.

There were a few days before the first day of camp. Move in and welcoming day was Monday of the following week. Tuesday the thirtieth was orientation and tours around the camp. Then Wednesday was the actual day that activities started. I could hardly wait. Being a counselor was almost as much fun as being a kid at the camp. To get paid decently, work on the beach, and do something I'd loved all my life was amazing. I knew Tyler could understand how I felt. Didn't he do the same thing, essentially? He earned money playing the sport he loved with his friends. We were similar in that way.

My bed felt miserably empty without Tyler. I don't know how I survived any amount of time without him. These few days were hard enough. He was flying back to Chicago tonight. He promised he'd text me when he landed. I was disappointed that he would be back in Chicago so soon. I wished he was back with me.

I passed one of the last days of sweet freedom by the beach, just like I'd spent every single hour of the break. Emily and I relaxed in our chairs, letting the sea foam run over our toes. I stretched my legs out, sighing heavily. My friend glanced over at me, her mop of sun-lightened curls piled ridiculously onto of her head. I almost laughed at the sight. She pushed her sunglasses down her nose so she could look at me.

"You look terrible, girlfriend." I scoffed.

"Jeez, thanks Em." She swirled her can of White Claw, looking at me defensively.

"I didn't mean it in a bad way. You look heartsick. I guess we both know why." I sighed.

"I just miss him. But I guess I have to get used to this, right?" Emily studied at me with narrowed eyes.

"There's something else. I know you." I bit my lip, not wanting to admit the truth. Finally, I relented.

"I'm scared he's gonna pull away again like last time. What if he thinks I'm a distraction and it'd be better if we were apart? I'm not sure I could forgive him again."

"Did you tell him that?"

"Kinda."

"Good. You need to tell him you're not going to be bootycall whenever he gets off work. You need to tell him that you're a steady or he can consider himself dumped."

"But I don't want to dump him." I whined, digging my hands into the sand in an attempt at distracting myself.

"You won't need to if you set ground rules."

"I'm not good at that."

"Obviously. See, I've already told Kirby exactly what I expect and when. He's wrapped right around my little finger." For emphasis, my friend twisted her hand in the air. I shook my head. There was no doubt Emily ran her and Kirby's budding relationship. They were so different, but I guess that's what made them click.

Emily was spunky, short, and the sassiest person I'd ever met. She was extremely smart, but damn if she didn't get fiery at times. She'd been there for me all my childhood, standing up for me and keeping my innocence safe. I'd been the shy one, she'd been the rude one. I couldn't ask for a better best friend to stand by my side.

I knew a decent amount about Kirby. I knew he was from Saskatchewan, and about the most 'Canadien' person I'd met. Coming from a Toronto native, I felt justified in saying that Kirby really was the definition of a Canadien stereotype. He was goofy and liked to joke, rarely taking things seriously. And obviously, he was completely whipped by Emily. My friend had always held that effect over guys. I hoped Kirby wasn't just a fad, like so many other guys had been. It would be awkward if she got bored of him. Especially if Tyler and I managed to make it through this next season.

I huffed and crossed my arms. I'd do this by myself. Little Halle could handle a long distance relationship. Right? Emily hummed to my right, settled back in her chair. It was as if she could read my mind. Her smug smile was annoying. My eyes left the sand between my toes and scanned the horizon. I picked out the heavy clouds, signaling an oncoming storm. It was still several hours out, but the flat sea gave us a full view of the dark smudge.

Usually I hated storms at the beach. Drizzles on campus were different and more enjoyable. Rain here left the sand damp and cold. It swirled the waters and washed strange things onto the shore. Even now I could feel the growing feeling of muted electricity tingling my hairs. I chewed my lip, studying the storm.

Emily stood, stretching. She folded the chair and twirled away from me. I was confused.

"Where are you going?" I called after her.

"To take a nap. When I wake up, it'll be raining." Of course. Emily loved the rain. Though she was more of a rain-in-the-forest kind of person. I blamed it on a childhood obsession with Twilight and the temperate rainforests of the pacific coast.

I dragged my feet, not wanting to leave the beach, but also not wanting to stay out alone. After a few minutes of hesitation, I followed Emily back to the house.

I showered off the layer of brine and sunscreen coating my skin. It felt good to let the hot water race down my back. I leaned against the wall of the shower, sighing heavily. When I turned to grab my shampoo, I noticed something. Tyler's shampoo was still next to mine. Somehow I hadn't noticed it before. Maybe he'd just forgotten it. I shrugged it off, continuing to cleanse myself.

Half an hour later, I was curled up on the couch, frowning at the darkening sky. If the threat of rain wasn't so eminent, I would be outside with my book. Instead, I was sentenced indoors. I couldn't focus on the pages before me. My fingers ran through my tangled shower-damp hair, trying to work the knots out. I needed a haircut before camp, that was for sure.

I left the book face down on the couch. In my room, I grabbed my brush. I paced while a worked through the knots in my hair. My feet stopped when I passed my closet for the third time. I frowned, pushing the half-open doors the rest of the way. Somehow, I hadn't noticed this before. "This" being the two luggage bags that were most definitely not my own. I crouched, unzipping the one closest to me. The action was almost to just confirm what I already knew. They were Tyler's. Why had he left them here? Didn't he need them back in Chicago? Did he realize he'd forgotten them?

Tyler should know he'd left his stuff. I patted myself in an attempt to find my phone. It wasn't on me. With a sigh, I started to look around my room for it. Had I left it on my bed? Nope. Maybe it was downstairs.

When I couldn't find it on the couch, I dropped to my knees to look under the cushions and coffee table. That was the position I was in when the sliding door opened. I let out an exasperated sigh, not lifting my head.

"Em, have you seen my phone?"

"Right here." My head shot up so fast I smacked it on the edge of the glass table.

"Ow! Shit!" I gasped at the figure in the door. Was I dreaming? My hand lingered on the bump on my head, but I was quickly forgetting the pain. I could hardly understand what I was seeing.

"Hey, Halls."

"Oh, Tyler." My voice was a breath. I ignored everything else. All that mattered right now was him. I had my arms wrapped around his torso before he could take another breath. His familiar hum as I pressed my head against his chest was so relaxing. I held on as long as possible, refusing to talk.

"We can't stand here forever." Tyler's voice was full of amusement. I complained quietly as he pulled away. "Come on, I've got a lot to tell you." I let him lead me upstairs. His luggage was discarded in the living room still, but he didn't seem to care.

I watched him with affection as he fell onto my bed. His hand shot out, patting the silken sheets next to him. I accepted the offer, laying flat on my back next to him.

"Why are you here? How was Vegas?"

"I needed to see you. Couldn't stay away. You know me...completely addicted to you." He smiled up at the ceiling before continuing. "It was pretty awesome. Met a bunch of awesome guys before and during the awards. It was also cool to have Pat and Jon there. I wouldn't be the player I am now without them. To have them there when I got the awards was amazing. Jeremy and Robin too."

"I saw all the pictures. They looked so cool. Especially the one where it was guys from all different teams."

"The one from the club?" I noted his amusement. I didn't share the same feeling.

"Yes, that one." I let the creep of annoyance sneak into my voice. Tyler sighed.

"I know, I know. Trust me I didn't have fun. I couldn't drink or smoke even if I wanted to. Which I don't. I can't. So you have nothing to worry about."

"Who said I was worried about that?" I was being annoying, but I wanted to talk about some things.

"What do you mean?"

"Like, clubs always mean taking girls home."

"Yeah, we didn't do any of that. Well, Matty did. But not the rest of us."

"Ok but you might."

"What?"

"I don't know. I just get paranoid about that kind of stuff. Girls and all the puck bunnies. I know I'm being stupid but what if you find someone prettier and someone better? There's so many other girls out there who deserve you more. They'd look better with you too." I frowned at the ceiling. I had a point to this.

"But I don't want anyone else."

"Are you sure? Are you completely 100 percent sure? Because I don't date, so me doing this is saying I want a serious commitment. If I'm just some girl that you might move on from, then do it now. Make sure you want to be stuck with me down before it's too late."

"What do you mean 'stuck with you?' It's not being stuck if I'm proud of our relationship and excited for every day." I sighed.

"I'm just saying. I'm not exactly trophy wife material like every other NHL wife and girlfriend. Hell, look at Patrick and Jon's girlfriends. They're tall blonde supermodels. I'm not six foot. I'm not super skinny. I don't have massive boobs and a big butt. My hair is too thin and my nose is too big. I'm just some average, dorky girl that—" Tyler stopped me from continuing to list my discrepancies.

"Stop, stop. You're perfect and I don't want some 'trophy wife' that I only have for looks. I want you because you're you. You're not some girl who's with me because of who I am. You have no idea how much I appreciate that and value your feelings. I wouldn't trade you for the world."

"But—"

"Nope. No buts."

"Ok, I won't. But there's other things I want to talk about." I paused and Tyler motioned for me to continue. "I kinda already told you this...but it's about this upcoming season. We might work well and be able to see each other like this in the summer, but what happens when your season starts again? What happens when you need to focus on being a top scorer and you don't have time for me? What happens when I'm not your top priority anymore? Because we both know that's what happened and it's going to happen again. How are you going to juggle multiple things?" Tyler let out a sigh at my words.

"I don't know. I really don't. It seems so hard...and it scared me before. I wasn't sure how to handle it then. Now I have less to worry about. I promise I can make it work." I didn't look at him, still hesitant. "Obviously you did a lot of thinking these past few days. Is there any other deep, pressing life questions that you want to ask?" He tried to lighten the mood, but I didn't do the same.

"Yes. I want to know about your family. You never told me a single thing about them. I've told you all about my family, now it's your turn." I could read the immediate tension that darkened his face. He looked angry and scared all at once. The change was unsettling.

"No."

"What?"

"Anything but that. I'll tell you eventually. Just not yet."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means I just won't tell you. It's not important."

"Knowing about the people who raised isn't important? It was what made you who you are today. How am I supposed to understand you when you won't tell me?"

"It is...just...not yet. You'll just have to wait. I can't tell you yet."

"And why not?" I sat up, crossing my arms and glaring at him. Tyler looked so conflicted. I almost felt bad pursuing this. I had to. I had seen and read things that made me question how much I actually knew about him.

"Just leave it. Please. I'll tell you, when I'm ready." I clenched my teeth, still glaring.

"Ok. Then you can sleep downstairs."

"What? That's a little extreme."

"Is it?"

"Yes. It is. This isn't that big of a deal." I snapped at that.

"Oh, yeah. Totally isn't. You won't tell me about the first eighteen years of your life. That's totally not important." My words were cold.

"Even if I wanted to tell you, you wouldn't want to know."

"Dammit Tyler! I don't care if you killed someone, I just want to know!" In a moment of weakness, I reached out for him. My hands found his face, holding it tight. His eyes were sad when he looked up at me. A clutch of pain claimed my heart and he pushed my fingers away.

"I can't tell you."

"Then I can't do this." My words came out soft and shaky, like my whole being was dissolving. I knew what we'd had for that month had been too good to be true. Here was the bittersweet truth.

"What?" His tone was harsher, startling me.

"I said this isn't going to work. If you can't and won't trust me, you can cross out the possibility of a relationship with you."

"You don't mean that." Tyler's eyes were pleading. I couldn't meet them.

"I do. You can't expect to keep your entire past hidden from me like this without questioning and me pushing you for answers. You can't have me and secrets. It doesn't work like that. If you thought it would, then you were delusional and I pity you for not knowing how a relationship works."

"Halle, come on. Do you hear yourself?" I nodded. When I didn't reply further, he spoke again. "I promise you don't need to do this. I just can't tell you. I'm..."

"You don't trust me yet. I know. I get it. But I can't wait around for someone who I care so much about and trust with my whole heart not reciprocate those feelings. You trusting me should have been there the second you came down here. I can't believe I let you play me like this. I knew it was just a damn dream that would end terribly. I knew it wasn't a good idea." My heart felt like it was shattering into a million fractal pieces with every word. The pain on Tyler's face didn't help. Why did I feel so guilty? So sad? It wasn't like we were even dating. Then why did it feel like I was going through a terrible break up?

"I...I don't know what to say."

"Then don't." I turned away, wrapping my arms around me. My eyes found the dark clouds outside the windows. They reflected my mood perfectly. "If you can't tell me, then I want you to leave. If you walk through that door, it means I'm not as important to you as you claim. It means you're too afraid of your past to trust me in the way a boyfriend should. It means we're done." I tried to control my ragged breaths. I heard the creak of the bed. I didn't know what to expect. A part of me hoped he would turn me around, sit me on the bed, and just tell me something. Anything. I just wanted one story from his childhood. One story about his mom, a friend, even hockey. Anything would sate my interest.

I waited by the window, still watching the incoming storm. I waited. And I waited. I waited for longer than I knew was reasonable. I didn't want to turn around and face the inevitable truth. I didn't want to know that he was really, truly gone. But I had to. Slowly, as if I was at gunpoint, I twisted on my heel. Like I'd dreaded, my bed was completely empty. The closet was open and completely empty. My heart sank.

I bumbled through the house, but to no avail. He'd left. I found my phone on the table by the door in the living room. With shaking fingers, I called the first person I could think of.

"Hello sweetheart. What's up?" The familiar sound of my moms voice made me let loose a strangled sob.

"He left Mom. He left."