Page 5 of Easton

He scored so many freaking goals that the team went to some kind of state championship. They won that, too, thanks to Easton.

Amazing.

I was at every home game, and a lot of away ones, too, cheering him on. But there was so much more to my best friend than his good looks and hockey prowess. He was the sweetest guy. At least he was to me.

We lived in the same neighborhood back then and spent so much time together. I thought we’d be best friends forever, but when he went to Boston to go to college and I stayed here in Phoenix to attend Arizona State, we began to lose touch.

Then, before Christmas our freshman year, his parents moved to Boston to be closer to their son. He had no more reason to fly all the way across the country to spend time in Phoenix.

Space and time and distance came between us.

It didn’t help when he found a girlfriend. I started dating some boy around the same time too. For me, that relationship grew serious, and the next thing I knew, our once daily calls and texts dwindled to the occasional “Hey, how are you?” message.

And then there was nothing, no more communication of any kind.

It’s sad when that happens, but it so often does.

After college, I did hear that Easton had been drafted by the Boston Bruins.

And then he was traded to a team in Atlanta.

The Thunder, I think.

I don’t know much more, though.

And that’s by choice.

It just hurts too much to follow hockey these days. It reminds me of Easton and what we lost.

It sucks, because I once loved the sport so freaking much.

We even have a professional team once again in Arizona. They’re called the Phoenix Bears, and they play at the newly built Glacier Dome.

This season, which starts in a few more weeks, they’ll be entering their second expansion year.

But that’s about the extent of my knowledge of the Bears.

Again, by choice.

“Can you believe that?” Madison says, breaking me from my trip down memory lane.

“Wait, what?” I ask, utterly lost.

She narrows her green eyes and levels me with a suspicious look. “Were you even listening to a word I was saying?”

“A little,” I hedge. And then I just flat-out admit, “Okay, no, you got me. I was zoning.”

Madison rolls her eyes, but I can tell she’s not really mad. She knows I’m always getting lost in my thoughts.

Slowly and patiently, she says, “Let’s try this again, Claire.”

“Okay, let’s.” Since the waiter took our plates away moments ago, I fold my hands in front of me on the table like a good, attentive friend. “I’m all ears.”

“As I was saying,” she begins as she tucks a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “I have a very interesting showing coming up.”

“Yeah, how so?” I ask.

“Well, the house my client wants to see is in Cave Creek, not far from the place you just sold. I forgot to mention it earlier, since I was too busy chowing down.”

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