Page 78 of Wrap Around
His first NHL goal. The winning goal. Two assists. Remarkable offensive plays and defensive calls that helped lead Calgary to a solid win. They're calling it his breakout performance. Speculating whether Calgary could have made the playoffs if their team had looked as good as it did today or if they'd had Silas.
I watch the moment he scores again and again. The way he drops his head back to look up at the sky. The sheer joy and relief on his face. The way he turns towards his team and throws his arms up. The way his teammates swarm him.
Silas hit a milestone today. One of the most important memories he'll keep for the rest of his life. It's a huge deal that he has to be riding high on.
He didn't call me.
My eyes sting. I scrub a hand down my face and rewind again, just to see him smile. I pause the screen and stare until Lily walks in. My voice is flat, not sure I’m ready to talk about it.
"Did you see?"
Her eyes are glued to her phone, face ghostly pale. She didn’t even hear me.
"Lily? Are you okay?"
She looks up at me, eyes distant.
"I have a missed call from Tennessee."
CHAPTER 29
SILAS
I'm so tired it feels like my bones are made of lead. My body aches in a way that's more than exhaustion, training, or soreness, though.
It's homesickness.
I miss my girls so much it's starting to feel like grief. I got used to being with them most every day and looking forward to coming home to them after days away.
And then there's Gideon. I feel his absence like a missing limb. Training and workouts are even more difficult because I'm working with what feels like a collapsed lung. Less blood flows through my heart, or there's tar in my veins, because it's taking too much effort for my heart to beat normally without him nearby.
Closing my eyes, I try to picture what my family might be doing right now, what I might see and hear and feel if I were there. Addy's sticky hands on my face, Lily's warm laugh from the kitchen. Gideon's warm weight beside me in bed.
Now it's hotel rooms and takeout and pretending I belong here.
I'm not sure I'm cut out for this. Even now, when I’m finally getting a handle on things, I’m not sure if this is the right path to pursue.
My first few games were a disaster. I choked, plain and simple. I played scared, and was distracted, and it showed. Every shift was a stumble. The harder I tried, the worse it got. I couldn't relax, couldn't breathe, couldn't find my rhythm. I started to panic over losing the one thing I've ever been good at.
It wasn't until after my fifth game that someone said something other than, "Chin up, you'll get it," or "Once you get over the jitters, you'll be alright."
We'd just had a really shitty practice after going over the game footage from the last game. A game where I'd played like a jackass, chasing the puck like a cat with a laser dot instead of a professional hockey player. I didn't play that game, that game played me. I couldn't understand why he kept putting me back out there.
Coach Ryan found me sitting in the empty arena, staring at the ice and wondering if this was what I really wanted. Or if I ever had the talent to get here in the first place. Like the pathetic ball of nerves and emotion I was, I was sitting alone, half shrouded in darkness, still in my undergear. The moment Coach found me, I had to actively hold back tears. Especially when he didn't yell. He just dropped down beside me, rubbing one of his knees that cracked when he sat. For the longest time, we just sat next to each other, staring at the illuminated rink like the ice had all the answers.
"You know why I picked you?"
That got my attention.
"It wasn't for your stats."
I scoffed. Obviously, it wasn't my stats. They were average at best, especially after a season of heavy losses.
"I happened to catch a few of Red Valley's games back in late February or early March. I guess there'd been some kind of flu outbreak in the ranks?"
"COVID," I clarified.
"Yeah. Your team was shit. Hell, it barely qualified as a team. Half the roster was missing, you were playing with kids from the juniors and freelancers, guys who hadn't seen ice time in six months or more. But you made it work."
