Page 17 of The Ex Puck Bunny
I’m keenly aware that the debris on the seat, the floorboard, and in the back looks like I’ve let my life unravel. In a way, it has.
“Been living out of your truck?” Heidi asks.
“Something like that,” I mutter.
More like driving. Just driving around so I don’t drive myself crazy thinking about all the ways things went wrong. Before I returned to Cobbiton, I’d drive to the gym near my apartment in Pittsburg then just drive out of the city and into the highlands, filled with numerous state parks and lakes. The terrain was a lot different than Nebraska’s plains, but the peace and quiet was what I needed.
“But now I’m back here. Home sweet home,” I say dryly.
“I bet your family is glad to have you return. Hometown hero and all that.”
Hardly. I squawk a laugh.
She looks at me sideways.
“The only person happy to see me is Derek,” I say, trying to mask the hitch in my voice. My brother and mother are long gone.
She snorts. “My dad was talking about you at dinner.”
“Glad I still have a fan in the Rice household.”
“Am I going to start seeing you all the time?” she asks.
“If you’re lucky,” I say, as the old, cheerful, jokester in me makes a rare appearance.
“How would that be good luck for me?”
“You don’t find me and my pearly white smile charming? I still have all of my original teeth.” Mostly. Hazard of the hockey job.
“I don’t see how that benefits me. I don’t want anything to dowith hockey players. I consider it a blessing Derek didn’t make the NHL.”
I press my hand to my heart. “Ouch. That’s harsh, Heidi.” I keep my tone playful, unsure what might set her off.
Not responding, she stares ahead through the window.
Rain cuts the silence between us with a sudden, sharp downpour. The windshield wipers slice across the glass. It’s impossible not to feel the enormity of Heidi’s presence as the rain points toward our proximity in such a small space. Despite her hostility, I’m attuned to her scent, her movements, and her sighs.
When I stop at a traffic light, I wonder if I acknowledge the Trey-shaped elephant in the room, that’ll calm the tension, “I’m sorry that, um?—”
“Don’t pity me, Grady,” Heidi says sharply.
I nod, point taken.
The windshield wipers swish and my heart falls in time with it. Not pounding, but not at rest either. The beat is off-time. I’m off-kilter and can’t figure out why.
Beside me, Heidi remains still, hands in her lap, gaze focused out the windshield. A fresh rain and sweet jelly bean scent wafts my way. The soft sound of her breath makes this moment feel bigger than it is.
I’m giving her a ride home. Nothing more. I’m not thinking about how pretty her brown eyes are or that I want her to like me rather than loathe me.
It’s not a big deal.
Yet, inside the cab of the truck, it’s hard to ignore how very alone together we are. Together, because we’re both in the same small place. Yet, it also feels like we’re both alone with our thoughts, purposefully guarding them from the other . . . and her brother isn’t a buffer between us.
The radio is off, which might be contributing tothe loaded silence. I’m about to turn the volume dial when I feel the urge to explain myself with regard to my attempt at an apology and offering words of understanding. “It’s not about pity. More like, sometimes life doesn’t turn out the way you expect, and that’s not the problem. It’s dwelling on the expectations that you had for your life that causes trouble.”
The words hang between us until she finally says, “How would you even know? Grady Federer, NHL pro, with a perfect life.”
A low laugh escapes. “You didn’t read the prologue or get to the falling action part, yet.”
