Page 66 of The Tape Job
“No,” I say. “I mean, yes. I mean, it’s complicated.”
I feel Ryan go rigid next to me, but I know better than to look at him. The media recognise it as a cry for help and will only start asking more questions.
“Oh, so you’re single and looking to mingle or?” He elongates the ‘r’ sound.
I open my mouth to reply, but Coach Adams yells across the ice. I’m unsure how he can project his voice so well. It never fails to land on the correct ears.
“Not single. Not seeing anyone,” I say, which makes no sense at all.
“We need to get going,” Ryan suggests.
“Right. We’ll leave it there,” Dean says.
As soon as he slides his phone away, he changes the tone of his voice.
“Thanks, both. I really appreciate it.”
“No problem,” I shrug, and Ryan and I edge closer to the ice.
I can hear Dean at the edge of my hearing mention Vicky and her blog to one of the other media reps, and it piques my interest, but Coach’s snappy words grab my attention.
“Nice of you to join us,” he says, gliding over. He’s dressed in a team tracksuit zipped up right to his chin and a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. You can never really tell what mood he’s in.
“Right, guys. I don’t know why any of you have your sticks because we’re bag skating today.”
I glance down at the tape job I whizzed through, now a pointless effort.
“You’re so slow today! Come the fuck on!” Coach shouts at everyone. He grabs my stick from my hands and bangs it against the ice before tossing it back towards me.
We all shuffle to the bench and lay our sticks on the rack, then make our way to the red line and line up. We only manage a couple of lines before Coach screams at us again.
“Christ. We need to do this more often. You guys are an embarrassment.” Coach blows his whistle and resets us on the red line. “This time, I want you to make an effort.”
The whistle sounds, and we take off again—back and forth between the red line and the goal line. My legs start to burn, but I push through. In times like these, you can easily spot who’s on top of their fitness. Ryan and I easily match each other’s pace, driven by our competitive streak. We work hard to out-skate the other, resulting in us skating faster.
Danny is surprisingly quick. He keeps up with Ryan and me, while Hutch, who was fast as hell according to Ryan, slows down after a few minutes. It’s only when Bettsy trips over himself that Coach blows his whistle and gives us a five-minute breather.
“So that’s them, huh?” Ryan asks, as we grab a couple of water bottles from the boards. He’s eyeing the stands where Vicky’s dad and his new family sit.
“Yep.”
“Well, it won’t be long until he’s announcing their engagement,” Ryan says.
He’s not wrong. Vicky’s dad, Stuart, has been engaged at least twice since his divorce from Vicky’s mom.
“I think Vicky’s sick of it,” I say. “Or maybe she just hates weddings in general.” I don’t know why I say it, but bitterness courses through me.
“I can’t believe you were going to get married, bud.” Ryan shakes his head. “I can’t imagine you married.”
“Why not? I guess I always thought I’d marry Vicky,” I reply. “And she always said the same thing. A part of me still wonders why she called it all off.” I think about those times in college I used to tell her I’d marry her one day. I’d never meant anything more.
“She hasn’t told you?” Bettsy’s voice sails through the air as he comes to a stop behind us. “It’s because she doesn’t want to end up like your parents or her parents. Something like that anyway.” He says it as if I’m asking him to explain how to shoot a puck.
“What?” Ryan and I say together.
After all this time, and all this bullshit, that’s the reason? Surely not.
“Johnny told me but he—ah, shit.” Bettsy’s face drops.
