Page 43 of The Ex Puck Bunny
“It’s not the same.”
“You can lip sync. I’ll do the heavy lifting.”
“Do you mean that you want the guys to think that you’ve charmed me?”
I lean in and whisper, “No, Heidi, I just want to see you smile.”
She leans back. Her expression is unreadable. It was a simple but true thing to say. I’m not sure where it came from, but not a place of pity or even big brother affection. It’s something else, however, I’m not sure what.
“Please?” I ask.
Everyone cheers and hollers for us to get onstage. There’s no going back.
Heidi glances over her shoulder. “No one here is going to let me wait on them until I make a fool of myself, huh?”
“We’ll have fun or laugh trying.”
“Ha. Ha. Ha. I’m already dying,” she deadpans.
“How about this? You pick out the song.”
The corner of her lip lifts as if that’s enticing and she goes over to the karaoke machine’s screen and browses.
I lean over her shoulder as she swipes past song options. A piece of her hair, tied in a ponytail, tickles my nose. I inhale her spring and jelly bean scent. Standing this close, warmth cascades between us, which is far better than the Ice Queen treatment I received when I first got to town.
Spending time with Heidi and Bunny this afternoon was so normal, that it highlighted all the ways my life up until this point has been anything but.
My brother and I were ten years apart, and I took care of him. Changed diapers and everything. Practically raised the kid. Everything after that was a storm of chaos and pain. The only thing that made it better, in a very backward way, was getting my butt kicked on the rink until I got so good, I had something to count on—a future to hope for.
I never looked back until now and realize I’ve been missing out.
It’s one thing to set a goal to be a professional hockey player. It’s another to plan long-term, to prepare and build a life that comes after I hang up my skates and retire. Coming back here made me live less in the moment and look more at the long view.
“I’m going to regret this,” Heidi says in a tone that suggests she’ll make sure I do too.
“Please don’t spit in my food to exact revenge,” I say as we step in front of the mic.
“Ready for nothing?” she asks as the first strains of the song sound over the speaker.
I instantly recognize the ABBA tune, “Take a Chance On Me.” The chorus is memorable and catchy, but the lines in between have me tripping over my tongue even though we’rereading them off the screen. The audience sings along which might make this slightly less painful for Heidi . . . and me, even though in my pre-suspension life I was a bit of a showman—comes with the territory of playing defense.
On the next chorus, my arm finds its way around Heidi’s shoulders as we sing our hearts out. Our eyes shine, our smiles beam, and there’s a certain glow between us that I’m vaguely aware of. But the moment I realize it, like catching a snowflake, it disappears from my fingers and I flub a line.
Heidi just looks at me and laughs like this is the most fun she’s had in a long time, possibly ever. She has the same kind of glee in her gaze as when Bunny plays Buckaroo or rocketed down the “Big slide” earlier. It’s innocent and free and happy.
When we get to the end, we’re both close to the microphone. Heidi’s eyes shine, her cheeks are pink, and her smile is bright.
I knew I’d placed a winning bet.
Somehow, we exit the stage the same way we entered, hand in hand. Heidi looks down and then quickly lets go as everyone applauds our performance.
Someone gives me a high five. Another claps me on the back. A guy wearing sunglasses says, “Not too shabby for a hockey player.” A woman with big hair adds, “That’s going to be your wedding dance song!”
Heidi shrinks and then disappears into the crowd as the next person takes the stage for karaoke night. The guys congratulate me. About an hour later, after talking hockey and receiving stern orders not to be late for practice—which means be early—they still saddle me with the tab.
I linger, thinking Derek might swing by for a game of pool. When he doesn’t, and the rest of the patrons filter out, I’m still finishing my drink. Heidi and the other servers bustle around, likely eager to close up.
Various hockey games play on the televisions situated around the pub and music plays low, all the karaoke volunteers spent.
