Page 50 of Wrap Around (Forbidden Goals #7)

SILAS

I'm so tired it feels like my bones are made of lead. My body aches in a way that's more than exhaustion, training, or soreness, though.

It's homesickness.

I miss my girls so much it's starting to feel like grief. I got used to being with them most every day and looking forward to coming home to them after days away.

And then there's Gideon. I feel his absence like a missing limb.

Training and workouts are even more difficult because I'm working with what feels like a collapsed lung.

Less blood flows through my heart, or there's tar in my veins, because it's taking too much effort for my heart to beat normally without him nearby.

Closing my eyes, I try to picture what my family might be doing right now, what I might see and hear and feel if I were there. Addy's sticky hands on my face, Lily's warm laugh from the kitchen. Gideon's warm weight beside me in bed.

Now it's hotel rooms and takeout and pretending I belong here .

I'm not sure I'm cut out for this. Even now, when I’m finally getting a handle on things, I’m not sure if this is the right path to pursue.

My first few games were a disaster. I choked, plain and simple.

I played scared, and was distracted, and it showed.

Every shift was a stumble. The harder I tried, the worse it got.

I couldn't relax, couldn't breathe, couldn't find my rhythm.

I started to panic over losing the one thing I've ever been good at.

It wasn't until after my fifth game that someone said something other than, "Chin up, you'll get it," or "Once you get over the jitters, you'll be alright."

We'd just had a really shitty practice after going over the game footage from the last game.

A game where I'd played like a jackass, chasing the puck like a cat with a laser dot instead of a professional hockey player.

I didn't play that game, that game played me.

I couldn't understand why he kept putting me back out there.

Coach Ryan found me sitting in the empty arena, staring at the ice and wondering if this was what I really wanted.

Or if I ever had the talent to get here in the first place.

Like the pathetic ball of nerves and emotion I was, I was sitting alone, half shrouded in darkness, still in my undergear.

The moment Coach found me, I had to actively hold back tears.

Especially when he didn't yell. He just dropped down beside me, rubbing one of his knees that cracked when he sat.

For the longest time, we just sat next to each other, staring at the illuminated rink like the ice had all the answers.

"You know why I picked you?"

That got my attention.

"It wasn't for your stats."

I scoffed. Obviously, it wasn't my stats. They were average at best, especially after a season of heavy losses .

"I happened to catch a few of Red Valley's games back in late February or early March. I guess there'd been some kind of flu outbreak in the ranks?"

"COVID," I clarified.

"Yeah. Your team was shit. Hell, it barely qualified as a team. Half the roster was missing, you were playing with kids from the juniors and freelancers, guys who hadn't seen ice time in six months or more. But you made it work."

"We lost almost every single game for nearly three weeks," I pointed out. Surely he's mixing us up with another team.

"Yeah, but you were making it work. You led those guys with confidence, and the plays you called worked for the talent and skills of the players you barely knew. And you are a damn good player, Silas."

I didn't understand how he could be saying that, when I'd done nothing but show him otherwise.

"When you're not in your head, you move like you were born on the ice.

You read it like it's speaking to you. You notice plays and take advantage of windows instinctively.

We can work on building up stats, polish up your form.

Skill can be taught. Instinct can't. All you need to do is to stop trying to impress anyone watching.

Me, the crowd, your family back home. Stop worrying and just play hockey. "

Gideon had said something similar a few days before. Don't perform, just play.

I let go a little. Not all at once, but piece by piece. And finally it started to click. Passes came smoother, the lines tightened up, and we started to find a rhythm. I remembered how to breathe out there. And last night, I made my first NHL goal .

The puck feels light and solid in my hand. The very one I shot into the net to win the game last night.

My first NHL goal, and I felt relieved, but also… off.

I should have felt joy. Excitement. Pride. Euphoria.

Instead I felt guilty.

After the game, the team dragged me out to dinner at a local bar and grill.

We ate burgers and wings, and I listened to the guys shoot the shit and got to know them a little better.

I had a couple beers, nothing wild, although seeing Gideon’s name show up on my screen made me feel a little tipsy.

He'd sent me some texts earlier to tell me that Coach Dempsey wasn't able to give him a night off to come with Lily and Adaline. I didn't really expect him to. There are only a few games left in the season, after all, but I still felt disappointed, and I know Gideon did too. I wasn’t sure what to say right away, whether I should commiserate or try to rationalize from Coach’s point of view to show my understanding.

I ended up putting off answering him, then got busy with game prep.

Seeing his name on the screen made my stomach do a little flip, both out of excitement, and nerves.

I was trying to excuse myself from the table, where one of the veteran players was telling a hilarious story about some stupid pranks they used to play when he was a rookie.

I answered before the call could disconnect or go to voicemail.

I desperately needed to hear his voice, had butterflies in my stomach and everything.

Before I could get away completely, one of the guys tried to ask me a question, which I didn't catch.

Another player, a D-man on my line named Matty Griffin, threw a balled-up napkin across the table and told him to shut up and let me go talk to my wife before she felt like she needed to mark her territory again.

I backed away, laughing awkwardly, both hoping Gideon heard the joke and not.

I know my voice must have sounded off when I asked him, "What's up? " like an idiot, but I was flustered .

He sounded off, voice strained and tone flat as he fumbled over a rushed excuse to get off the phone immediately, even though he'd been the one to call me.

I wanted to call back immediately, and almost did, but the way he said, "I love you," before hanging up irked me.

I was actually more pissed off than I ever was when we were still fighting over the secrets between us.

The way he said it was flippant, almost sarcastic, like he was punishing me.

For what, though? For going out with my teammates?

This is a huge problem lately. Simply communicating with Gideon has been rough.

I don’t want to dominate the conversation with talk about the team or how amazing it’s been to have this opportunity.

He was right, I would have regretted not coming, but I can tell he’s not entirely happy about it.

Lily thinks he might be feeling a little down on himself, and while I know he’d never expect or want me to downplay my success or excitement, I’ve been avoiding the topic now that I’ve started to find my footing here.

Now that I could see myself making this dream a reality.

Coach Ryan’s been hinting at something. Pulling me aside after practices, talking about systems and roles and what the next season might look like. I know what he’s saying without saying it.

There might be a contract on the table.

A real one. Not temporary. Not borrowed.

And I want it. God help me, I want it.

I don’t know what it would mean for us, though. I can’t expect Gideon to drop everything and follow me. And considering how much two weeks has affected our communication, I don't think either of us would survive long distance.

Is it even a choice? Could I really give up the one thing I've wanted above everything else for as long as I can remember?

"Don't be mad," Lily says in a pained voice.

"What is it?" I ask, immediately concerned by her worried tone. "Is Addy okay?"

"Oh, God, sorry. Yes, she's fine. I didn't mean to scare you, I'm just freaking out a little."

I wait quietly, trying to give her time and space to voice whatever is on her mind, but it's been a long time since I've seen her this worked up.

She's pacing back and forth across the screen, raking her hands through her hair and pulling at the ends the way she used to when she first cut her hair.

She starts pulling her hair back, like she's trying to make a ponytail, but the cute bob it's cut into is too short to pull it off.

Frustrated, she holds onto the ends, tilts her hair back and groans.

"Lily, what's going on?"

"Well, for starters, we can't come to your game after all." She wipes the first tear away before it can drip down her cheek.

"Oh. Well, that's alright. I mean, it sucks, but it's not the end of the world.

There will be more games." I can't pretend that I'm not a little disappointed.

Of course I am. I miss my girls. But stuff happens and things come up, and I know she understands that, too.

It's not like her to get worked up over anything small, and I know Lily pretty well.

This isn't sad behavior, this is frustrated and anxious behavior.

My thoughts, as they often do, shift to Gideon. Could this have anything to do with him, and the way he left our call yesterday? He didn't answer my call when I tried this morning, and he hasn't answered my texts yet.