Page 98 of The Hockey Grump Saves Christmas

“It’s really not like that, Mom.” And now I feel even more ashamed of lying to them. Appalled by my own behavior.

Maybe I should just come clean right now—rip off the Band-Aid. Hopefully it might take half my skin and a few internal organs with it and I can suffer all my punishments for all my bad decisions in one awful, stinking ass of a day.

Natalie would be proud of me if I did.

My guts clench for the inevitable fallout as I take a deep breath and go for it. “And it’s not really like that, mostly because I’m not actually?—”

“That young woman we saw the other day seemed nice,” Mom says. “What was her name now…” She looks around as if struggling to remember. “Was it Natalie? Yes, Natalie. She was delightful. And is obviously very bright if she’s a special shoulder specialist or whatever she is.”

Wow, she hasn’t been thinking this through at all, has she?

And now all my good intentions of coming clean about where I am and what I’m doing here fly out of the window and my only goal in life is to get off this call.

“Anyway, my good news is that the head of PT has given my shoulder a clean bill of health.”

Mom’s mouth drops open, and she presses her free hand against her cheek. “Did you hear that, Jeff? Gabe’s going back to work.”

“Is he back for the Ironmen game?” Dad’s voice issuddenly stronger now that we’re getting down to serious business.

“Should be,” I say, louder so he’ll hear me. “I’m meeting the trainer at the gym in New York tomorrow and Sunday. If he also gives me a clean bill of health, then I’m back to training with the team on Monday and playing against the Ironmen on Wednesday.”

“There couldn’t be better news.” Mom’s eyes go a little misty. “Five whales and Gabe being recovered. What a day.”

I should be as overjoyed as they are. This is what I live for. Hockey is my entire existence. But it also feels like a tiny notch has been cut out of that now and filled in by Natalie. And her dragging me into the play and the pig lighting shenanigans has even managed to make me feel like a part of me might belong in this odd little town.

Mom sits on the edge of the bed, and I get a view of Dad’s body from his chest to his knees behind her.

“Take care of yourselves,” I tell them. “Have fun, but make sure Dad takes it easy till he’s fully better.”

“Same goes for you, son,” Dad’s voice says. “Don’t dive in before you’re ready. You’ll only make things worse in the long run.”

If only he knew how much those words apply right now—but not only to hockey.

“Speak soon,” Mom says before blowing me a kiss. “And say hello to the lovely Natalie for us.”

I slide the phone back onto the table and bury my face in my hands.

I have to go find Natalie and tell her I’m leaving first thing tomorrow morning.

Christ, she’s going to hate me. And the thought of that makes me feel as sickas my dad looked.

But goddammit I have to do it.

I reopen my phone.

ME

Hey, where are you?

My stomach grumbles. I can’t face the thought of food, but I do need something inside me so I can think straight, figure out what to say to her, and how. Maybe I could force down a protein drink.

NATALIE

At the theater. Why?

ME

I’ll be there in a few minutes.

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