Page 26 of Tempest

“How did you manage that, anyway? She didn’t talk to you for, what? Five years?” I ask. Isla, his wife, broke up with him when she found out he was getting “friendly” with a psycho who used to work for the team that drafted him into the NHL. Still, she eventually forgave him. But they had years together before he fucked up, while I only had weeks with Odette. “Mine hasn’t spoken to me in twenty.”

“What the fuck, man?” Blom asks. “You been hung up on some bird since childhood?”

“Something like that.” I nod. “She and I were together for a little while after Caroline and I broke up. Then my ex-wife found out she was pregnant.”

“Dude,” Zander says.

“Oh, shit,” Cillian chimes in. “You broke it off with her and married Caroline?”

“Yeah,” I confirm. “Caroline was giving up an education to keep the baby. I thought it was the right decision. I don’t regret that.”

“But you’ve been missing this other woman for all these years?” Zander asks.

“Fuck, I love a good love story where one is pining away for the other. You’re like Jane Eyre or some shit,” Lehtinen says.

“How the hell does a neanderthal like you know anything about Jane Eyre?” Blom asks him.

“I watch movies like the rest of you! I just don’t stick to action and sci-fi. I like drama, too. I’m a sophisticated man.” The whole locker room laughs at that.

“Pining might not be the right word. But I’ve thought about her a lot. She just moved to Seattle.”

“She single?” Blom asks.

“Yeah, that’s not really the problem. I mean, I think she might be dating some guy, but she just got here, so it’s too new for that to be a concern.”

“What’s the issue then?” Zan asks. “She hate you?”

“Maybe not hate but strong dislike. Or distrust.” Both, most likely. And I deserve that, but we’re different people now, in different circumstances. I’m not the one who needs convincing of that, though, she is.

“You need to grovel,” Lehtinen says.

“He shouldn’t have to grovel for choosing his child,” Cillian says, the dad in him taking over. “But you’re definitely going to have to pull something swoony out of your ass.”

“You’re an NHL player, it shouldn’t be that hard,” Blom adds.

“You’d think that, but not with this woman. She’s way more famous than me, man.”

“Who is she?” Zander looks at me with renewed interest. All the guys do, but he’s the one who asks the question.

“Odette Quinn. She’s a big name in the fashion industry.”

“Fuck off,” Lehtinen says. “You know Odette Quinn?”

“How do you know her?” I ask, surprised. As well-known as she is, I didn’t expect any of these guys to recognize her name.

“She’s often a guest judge on that modeling show.”

“Who are you?” Blom asks him, just as surprised as the rest of us that he watches model reality television.

“Hey, I’m the smart one in the room,” he argues. “You all spend time watching men get sweaty and bloody, while I watch beautiful women. Dumb motherfuckers.” Nobody has an argument for that. Letty is our class clown, our goon. He doesn’t let you see much past that, but maybe the guy isn’t quite what we all think.

“If you haven’t talked to her in twenty years, how do you know you want a second chance?” Leave it to the youngest in the room, Zander, to be the wisest of us all.

“Saw her last weekend,” I tell him. “Everything about her has changed but she still felt so familiar. Like, I remembered how she smelled, and it felt like coming home. Brought dinner to her house last night and the chemistry is still there, even though she fights it.”

“If she is already letting you bring dinner over, then what are you worried about?” Cillian asks.

“She didn’t let me, per se.”

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