Page 101 of The Tape Job
Ryan backs up and we roll out of the parking lot, pausing at the exit for the barrier to swing open to let us through.
“Shit, is that Johnny?” he says as we pull out onto the main road. He’s not wrong. Johnny’s getting out of a cab, fumbling in his pocket for his keys. Ryan pulls over and winds down the window.
“You okay, pal?”
Johnny looks completely horrified to see us, and he adjusts his cap before calling back in response. “Yeah—I’ll catch you at practice.” He swipes his entry fob before he hurries inside. The door swings shut behind him.
“He’s definitely got a secret girlfriend,” I say, pulling my phone out and dropping Vicky a text since I doubt Johnny would have thought to update her on his welfare.
“Speaking of which, tell me what’s going on. You said you weren’t back together but—”
“Well, we’re not, but we’re not not either. Fuck. I don’t know.” I drum my fingers against the dash as Ryan waits at a set of lights. “We’re not sleeping together. If that’s what you’re asking. But we’ve been sleeping together.”
“You’re making absolutely zero sense,” he says.
I remind him about the hotel room situation—that we spent the night together. Then I tell him I went over after the night I sat with her on the coach too.
“I fucking knew some shit was going on then!”
“All we did was sleep, honestly.”
“Lucky for you, Jen is all for it, so I’m probably less pissed than I should be. I just don’t want to see you get hurt, that’s all.”
We come to a stop in the players’ parking lot and climb out, grabbing our bags from the trunk. There’s no one around at this time, and the doors are locked. Ryan swipes his card to gain access, and we head towards the dressing room.
“I feel like I’m stuck, though. I mean, I want to give things a go, but I know what you’re saying. I can’t go through thatagain. I think that’s probably why we haven’t actually slept together. If I do, I’ll be dropping every single barrier I’ve put up.”
I wait for Ryan to come up with a solution for me, but he doesn’t; he just listens.
“Jen had me read ‘Men are from Mars and Women are from Venus,’” he admits when I ask him why he’s not providing me the answers I so desperately need. “Honestly, it’s really insightful. You should read it. Basically, women just want men to listen, but we don’t. We’re fixers, and we want to fix. So, the next time a woman is ranting on about something, just listen instead. They love it.” Huh? I put this in the back of my mind to consider later as we lace up our skates, not bothering with our full gear. “Do you think this is why you came here in the first place? To see if you could move forward with Vicky?”
I swallow hard. “Well, I came here intending to retire next season. I wanted to make the most of my final year with you and Johnny. But I think I also wanted to fix things with Vicky because we have such a past, man. I can’t just throw all that away, I’ve tried and I don’t feel like me—I wish I could explain it properly. I know I can’t rely on someone else to be happy, and you know I don’t believe in soul mates. I guess what I’m saying is, I know that there are probably lots of women I’d likely be compatible with, but I’ll always choose Vicky. I just can’t explain why.”
“You don’t need to explain it,” he says, turning his head towards me. “And even though I won’t be happy about it, I’ll always be here to help if things go sour. But you should definitely make sure you’re both on the same page and there’re no fucking secrets. All or nothing.”
I get that.
“Bring your gloves,” Ryan says as we head towards the ice. We each grab our sticks, and he takes a few pucks and shoves them into the pouch of his hoodie.
“I thought we were skating?” I say.
Ryan shrugs. “May as well have some fun while we’re here.”
And we do. We don’t talk at all. We just play like we’re kids again with nothing else to worry about except what time Mom was picking us up. It’s only when we stop to get some water that Ryan asks me the question I’ve been turning over in my head for months.
“Are you really sure you want to give hockey up?”
“No,” I answer honestly. “But I think I know what I need to do because as ridiculous as it sounds…” I pause. But he nods, because he knows exactly what I’m thinking. If, somehow, Vicky and I are in a good place, I can think about carrying on.
“Come on,” he says, looking at his watch. “We’ve got some time to play ‘Defend the Bucket.’”
We return our sticks to the bench, and Ryan leaves the ice to grab a bucket. Enjoying a moment of calm, I take the time to skate around. I complete two full laps of the ice, and on the bend of my third, a flash of blonde catches my eye. An infectious smile breaks out on my face—my heart leaping slightly as I watch Vicky’s interaction with Ryan. They’re both nodding in conversation, and it doesn’t look as if anyone is out for blood. The whole interaction looks civil, my opinion cemented when they hug each other.
When they break apart, Vicky looks over towards me, her teeth gleaming as bright as the ice. “Thanks for my coffee,” she says.
“What’s going on here?” I smile, looking at her and my brother.
“I’ll leave you guys to it,” Ryan says before disappearing.
