Page 20 of When Alec Met Evie
“You’re a brother, a son, a friend, a human. You’ll still be all those things when you stop playing hockey.”
He shakes his head and lets out a little disbelieving laugh. “I don’t think it’s going to come to that,” he says, but the tension in his body makes me think he’s worried it might be.
“What do your teammates say?” I ask.
He props his foot up on the bottom of my barstool, bringing his knee into direct contact with mine. I will myself not to move away even though the heat of him feels like a brand through the thin fabric of my leggings.
“My teammates don’t say anything because they don’t know.” He rolls his shoulders, and I get the sense he’s admitting things, saying things out loud that he hasn’t said before. “I’ve played through the pain before, and I’ve had surgery before. I’ll have another one if I have to. It’s the job, right?”
He’s making it sound so simple, like it’s no big deal. But what if itisa big deal? “Will you…would you ever stop? Decide it’s not worth it?”
He hesitates. “I mean, at some point, I’ll have to. My trainers like to talk about future mobility. Making sure I can go on hikes or play outside with my kids—assuming I everhavekids—just do regular life stuff. But it’s hard to prioritize that if it means I have to stop playing now.”
Beside me, the sound of Juno stirring comes through the baby monitor I brought downstairs with me, and I will her to settle back into sleep. A conversation like this feels like a lot for two people who only just reconnected, but it also feels incredibly easy. Like we could talk about anything and it wouldn’t give either of us pause. I have no idea why—why Alec decided I was the person he’d finally say all of this to, but I don’t want the conversation to end just because Juno wakes up.
I hold my breath, bottom lip grasped between my teeth until Juno quiets, her breathing falling back into a steady, reassuring rhythm.
“Have you given any thought to what you’ll do when youdostop playing? Whenever itdoesfinally happen?”
Alec shakes his head, his jaw tensing the slightest bit. “There’s nothing else Icoulddo.” He stands and moves into the kitchen, keeping his back to me for several long moments.
I stand and carry my plate around the counter and lower it into the sink. “There’s no denying you’re great at hockey,” I say slowly, “but you’re also smart and funny and personable and charming. There are probably a dozen different things you could do without even leaving the sport. Coaching or broadcasting. You’d be great on television.”
He lets out a dismissive grunt. “Nah. Analysts come from the NHL. Not the minor leagues.”
“Most of the time, sure,” I say. “But you’re an Appie. You guys freaking beat an NHL team last season. Half the players on the team could be playing in the NHL if they wanted to be—you included. The same rules don’t apply to the Appies.”
Alec’s eyebrows lift, and I’m suddenly embarrassed to have said so much. To have revealed just how closely I’ve followed his career.
But then he grins, and my regret fizzles and floats away. “So you weren’t just reading textbooks at all of my games,” he says.
I roll my eyes. “I already told you. That happenedonetime.”
“Once a nerd, always a nerd,” he says.
Juno’s monitor lights up again, and this time, it doesn’t sound like she’ll settle back down.
I retrieve my water glass from my seat at the counter, draining the last of it before putting it in the sink next to my plate. “She probably won’t go back to sleep without me,” I say, reaching for the monitor. “Thanks again for the sandwich.”
“Of course,” Alec says. “If you get hungry later, just make yourself at home. I don’t have much, but whatever you find in the fridge or the pantry, you’re welcome to it.”
I’m halfway across the living room when Alec stops me.
“Hey, Evie?”
I turn back to face him. It’s the first time he’s called me by name, and the sound sends a delicious shiver racing up my spine. “Yeah?”
Alec pushes his hands into the pockets of his joggers. “Thanks for listening. You’re pretty easy to talk to.”
I smile. “Anytime.”
He runs a hand through his hair and takes a step toward me. “Listen. I have no idea if it’s even practical with Juno, but I’m happy to get you a ticket to Sunday’s game if you want to come. Or any game, really. It doesn’t have to be this one. I’m just sayinggenerally. If you want to go to an Appies game. All you have to do is ask.”
My heart squeezes at the kindness behind Alec’s words. I haven’t been to a hockey game in years. Not since high school. Once I started at Juilliard and met Devon, it wasn’t as easy to get away, even though Megan frequently traveled to see whatever games he played in the northeast.
But Devon was a theater major, and he didn’t understand my love for hockey at all. I tried to explain it was simply a part of my childhood, but I might as well have been speaking a different language.
So I let it go.
