Page 25 of Broken Promises

“You’re rooming with Ben for the rest of the season,” he says, handing me my room key.

I turn around and look for Ben. “Sweet. I got an upgrade.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Marcus Wells says. He’s a rookie and the alternate goalie. I got stuck rooming with him because I was the new guy. The dude snores so loud it’s like trying to sleep with a weed whacker right next to your head.

“Let’s go, Benny boy. I need to call my wife before I pass out for the night.” I start walking and I feel him follow me.

“What’s that like?” he asks.

“Having a wife?”

“No. Just the distance part. How do you make it work?”

I shrug. I don’t want to give him bad advice since my marriage isn’t exactly conventional, and I’m really not sure I’m making it work. “We met when we were kids. We’ve been friends all these years with an entire country between us. There’s always been distance. We make sure to call each other as often as we can. And I plan to keep her to myself the moment she’s home.”

Ben nods and swipes the key card on our door. I follow him in and claim the bed next to the window.

“What about your guy? You dealing with the distance?”

Ben sits on his bed and sighs. “We’ve been apart for a while. I don’t think the distance would matter. I just haven’t been honest about some things, and I don’t know what that will do to our relationship. If we even have one.”

I nod in understanding. I have no idea what my relationship status is. Other than married to my best friend that I may or may not have more than friendly feelings for and who may not return those feelings. I can’t tell Ben that, though.

“Honesty’s the best policy.”

Ben throws his head back and laughs. “You sound like my mom.”

I laugh with him. “I sound like my mom too.”

“Here, give me your number. I’ll text you a picture I think your wife might like,” he says, handing me his phone. I quickly type my number in and hand it back. My phone pings moments later with a picture message.

“Fuck yeah. Thanks man,” I say.

“You got it. I’m going to shower while you call your wife.” He heads to the bathroom while I look at the picture he sent. It’s from right after practice ended. He got a closeup with a lens that must be crazy expensive with the amount of detail I can make out in it. My hair is wet from sweat and sticking up in every direction after taking my helmet off. You can even see the steam coming off me from the temperature difference between the ice and my body. I’m smiling at something Gideon said and looking just past where the camera must have been. It’s a fucking great candid. I send it off to Willa immediately.

You have time to talk to this sexy beast?

Princess

How could I not? Look at him. He’s smoking. Literally.

I call her, and she answers immediately.

“Hey, hockey boy. That’s a great picture of you. Who took it?”

“We got a new photographer. His name’s Ben. He’s also my new roommate.”

“Does that mean you’ll actually get some sleep?” she asks. I’ve been complaining about how hard it is sleeping on the road with Wells.

“I fucking hope so.”

We chat about our day, which has become the norm these past few weeks. I feel like Willa is pulling away, but I have no evidence of that other than just a feeling. So I never bring it up or mention that I can’t sleep when I’m home either because thoughts of losing her keep me awake all night.

Ben gets out of the shower and climbs into his bed, keeping his back to me like he’s still trying to give me privacy.

“I have to get some sleep. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Good night, hockey boy. Kick Pittsburg’s ass tomorrow,” she says, her voice insanely cute when she’s sleepy.

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