Page 35 of Home Ice

Shit. Things were good. I thought. Sure, there were a couple times I almost lost it. I was so close to kissing her, and I know I wouldn't have stopped there if I had. But I didn't. I saved it just before I crossed that line. And she opened herself up to me. She wouldn't have done that if I made her uncomfortable. Is that what this is about? Does she regret telling me? She has to know that doesn't mean shit to me, right? I don't care about her past. I made sure she knew that. I thought. Maybe I didn't do enough.

"Alright, ones and threes versus twos and fours," Coach hollers out. "Penalty kills. Ones are up first. Get your asses moving! And Morrison, just in case you have any fucking doubt in that big-ass head, I'd put you with the fucking fifth-stringers if I could after that idiocy with my baby."

In an actual game, there's almost nothing I love more than a penalty kill. Their best five versus our four. Versus me. I'm always focused when I'm on the ice, but it goes to a new level during a penalty kill. It's fucking fantastic.

Today, it's the fucking worst. The first goal against me comes just twenty seconds into the drill. Then, like he's rubbing it in, Milo blanks my side for the entire two minutes we're in the offensive zone. When we go back on the kill, I'm determined to do better this time. I take a couple of quick, deep breaths and focus on the smell of the ice. On the sound of the sticks slapping it. The yellow of the first-line's practice jerseys as they shift the puck around in the zone. Their first probe comes to my right side, but I'm ready. I stick it away like swatting a fly. And now I'm feeling it. All power plays have a rhythm, and I can feel this one. I relax into it. But then I see her in my mind, and everything else disappears.

"You owe me, Branny." I look to my left where Princeling is grinning at me. The puck is on its side, rolling away from him, and it's clear he must have poked it away from Kayden as he was coming in on me. I didn't see any of it. "Guess you can call me Roy now?"

"Not a chance. You're lucky I don't demote you to Sammy the Earl for daring to even ask." I joke with him, but inside I'm boiling at myself. How could I have fucking missed that? Everyone knows Kayden is going to be at the center of any power play attack. That means while I never take my eyes from the puck, I have to always know where he is. But I lost both him and the puck. If this were a game, I'd owe the Princeling a night of drinks for saving my ass. I'll still pay for a round or two the next time we're out. He's a good kid, and I think he'll make a great defender for the Sting once he's got a few hundred shifts under his belt.

Unlike him, I’m struggling more than I ever have. Before the end of the second two-minute kill, I make one stop, but another shot clangs off the crossbar. I didn't see it until it was too late. If it were just an inch lower, it would have been in. Even though I hold them scoreless for the two minutes, I'm done when Coach blows his whistle. Everyone shifts to the other end of the ice for us to take the power play against Milo, but I head to the benches, head down and unstrapping my pads as I go.

"Where do you think you're going, Morrison?"

I look up at Coach as I get to the boards. "You know I'm here for this team. One-hundred percent." As mad as he might be with me, he would never question my dedication. "But there's something else going on right now, and I need to take care of it. My head's not here until I do."

"You know the rules. It's that important?" His voice is still unmistakably gravelly, but it's softer now. I nod. "Still five thousand for the missed practice." I nod again and step through the gate. Before I get to the tunnel, he puts his hand on my arm to stop me. "You need anything, you let me know. Right?" He whispers like he's embarrassed to let anyone see this side of him, but even the new players already know that he'll be there for us no matter what. The tough guy front is just that. A front.

"Thanks Coach."

"What are you fuckers waiting for?" he yells, and just like that, he's back at it. "Five laps for every second more of my time that you waste standing and gawking."

I try calling Lily on the drive to her house. The first time it only rings twice. The second time, it doesn't ring at all before her voicemail picks up. She's at least alive enough to turn off her phone, but it's worrying that she's ignoring me. Things are obviously not as good between us as I thought they were. I replay the other night, looking for anything I might have missed. Searching for any hints in her words or the way she acted. But I can't find any. Maybe I'm so clueless I'm misreading the whole thing. It's not like I have the best track record with women. Maybe pulling into her driveway isn't the right play. But it's the one I'm making.

Her car is here. The house has a garage, but as far as I know, she never uses it. I'm glad. I practically sprint to her door. Just like I did before. I was wrong about things then. I hope I'm just as wrong now. Maybe she's sick, and all my concern is for nothing. I hope she's sick. I knock on the turquoise door and wait, staring at it. Silver barks from the large picture window to the left until he sees that it's me. "Lily? It's Brant."

After a few more seconds with no answer, I go to the window. Silver hops up from where he was sitting and presses his nose against the glass as I tap it to draw Lily's attention. When I cup my hands and look inside, I see her on the sofa, looking back at me. She stares motionless for way too long and then drops her head. "Please?" I beg, and she swings her legs out and walks toward the door.

"Are you okay?" I ask as soon as I hear the door open, before I can even see her. When I do see her, though, I answer my own question. She's wearing a faded University of Utah sweatshirt that looks about three sizes too big on her. It hangs to the top of her thighs, and I really hope she's wearing shorts underneath because I'm learning my dick is the kind of immoral bastard who doesn't care if she's sick. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." It comes out more like a question than an answer, and it's in a voice that would be more at home coming from a five-year-old.

"Try again." The tip of her nose is red. "Do you have a cold? Should I keep my distance?"

Her eyes flick up to me for just a second. It's long enough for me to notice they're as red as her nose. "Yes, so you need to go. Sick. Stay away. Shouldn't you be at practice anyway?"

"You're not sick. You've been crying."

"I cry when I'm sick."

"Lily?" Her left hand grips the door, but she doesn't make a move to shut it. "Let me in." I wait for her answer. She takes a step back without a word, and I follow her.

For a moment we stand in the doorway and stare at each other, and fuck me. Even after she's been crying—even while she's wearing a ratty sweatshirt and has her hair piled into something that looks like a bird nest that's been through more than one tornado—she's still the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. I thought rehabbing my knee was the hardest thing I've ever done in my life, but keeping it just friends with this woman is going to be even harder. Finally, she turns away from me, and I blow out a silent breath in relief.

Even though it's got to be at least eighty degrees today thanks to a late season warm spell, she pulls her knees up to her chest when she sits back on the sofa and then tugs a blanket up to her chin.

"So you went to the University of Utah?"

She shakes her head. "It's not mine." Her words sound like an old crackling record played on the lowest volume.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I move to the far end of the sofa and wait for her to tell me to sit down. She doesn't, but I do anyway. Silver comes up for a quick scratch behind his ear, but then he moves back to the window.

Lily is quiet for several seconds before shaking her head.

"At least tell me if it's because of me. Is it something I did or said?" This time she shakes her head right away. It might make me selfish, but I feel lighter. "Let me see your hand," I tell her.

She draws the corner of her lower lip in and works it between her teeth as she looks at me. I don't know if she's even aware she's doing it. "Why?" She finally asks.

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