Page 126 of Friendzone Hockey
Vancouver loses the cup that night, and it’s just as well. I’ve already lost everything else. My heart, my soul, my purpose.
I can’t get away fast enough.
1st Off-Season (Orcas)
Truth be told, I didn’t have sex with New Guy. I only tried anything at all with New Guy because things with Dash and Syd were getting serious. The pain was mounting. Once again, I tried to stop loving Dash by loving someone else, but as usual, it just made me miss Dash more.
And curiously—or maybe not so curiously—Dash didn’t like him either. Dash hasn’t liked anyone I’ve dated. Ever. People made comments before, but I brushed them off, seeing what I wanted to see.
Things are different now. Now, it’s like I’m in sudden death overtime. But, like, back when it didn’t go to shoot-outs, when you played until someone scored a goal, even if that meant six full periods. It’s been a long game, I’m tired as fuck, but the game’s not over till it’s over. I could still score that final goal and win it all.
I drove up to Kelowna, acquiring a Hummer along the way. Casey’ll think it’s cool, right? He won’t care that I sold our car, will he? I’m not Mr. Impulsive. This is not something I’d ever do, which is why I had to do it. Then I rented a motel room in thearea, and I intend to justbefor as long as I need to. Until I find the answer to a question I can’t articulate.
I need to go cold turkey on Dash, too. He’ll be mad, but surely Syd can soothe him till I get my head on right. I’m not much good to Dash now anyway. He knows I’m gone, and he knows I’ll be back. Okay, fuck, I feel hella guilty about switching my phone to silent, screening in case of emergency, but I can’t talk to him.
Don’t think I’ve ever taken time for me. This is my time for me.
The motel isn’t much, I can afford something a lot snazzier, but being on the ground level appealed to me as well as the simplicity. I got here at dawn, and I loved the way the sun began as a burst of orange over the backside of the building, leaving the front cool. It’s the way I remember summer days starting when I was a kid, and it’s the exact kind of nostalgia I need right now.
I unpacked my clothes, planning to stay awhile, and from the bottom of my bag, I pull the eleven-by-nine manilla envelope Auntie Annie sent me. Inside is a letter, and a journal.
Dear Stacey,
Your mother wanted me to send this to you when the time was right. It was a particularly lucid moment, as if she returned from wherever her mind was abducting her to deliver this message. It’ll tell you about your father so beware. It was a painful memory for her, this was the only way she could tell you.
I’ll leave it up to you as to whether you think you should tell Casey.
Key’s taped to the back.
Love,
Auntie Annie
I haven’t read it yet, and I don’t know if I should. Maybe it’s better to leave the past alone.
There’s nothing better than the Kelowna sun to blaze a new perspective into you, so I drag myself to the beach. I don’t want to do anything other than mope about Dash. Replay every action and every word over to see if I was missing something. Each time, I come up with nothing but more heartache.
I spread out my oversized towel, one big enough for my large hockey body, close my eyes behind a pair of shades, and enjoy the tropical whiff of sunscreen.
Even the fucking sunscreen reminds me of my Dash. My heart squeezes. I want to die.
Wham!
A soft, air-filled something makes contact with the side of my head. It bounces and lands. I assume it’s a beach ball until I sit up. It’s a giant inflatable unicorn.
Like Buddy. Buddy was a unicorn. Goddamn. This “forget Dash” thing isn’t going so well. He’s invaded every memory I have.
Two thin blond men race toward me. One’s shorter by at least five inches. The tall one has a less prominent nose and a sharp masculine jawline. The shorter one has softer features. They both have sparkling green eyes.
A large barrel of a man is quick to follow. He’s big. Even taller than me, closer to Rhett’s height. Bet he could carry each of these men over a shoulder at the same time. He’s got a dark, neatly trimmed beard and a swell of dark hair on his head to match. He’s shirtless. Hell, what does he do to put on muscle size like that? Must be genetic.
“Sorry about that,” he says.
“Yeah, we’re really sorry. Need us to make it up to you?” the smallest man says.
There’s no question what he means by “make it up to me”.
“Uhhh,” I sputter.
