Page 37 of Wrap Around
I've been walking on eggshells around him, careful not to get too close, not to trigger whatever nerve I hit. He doesn't speak to meunless he has to, and when he does, it's clipped. Cold. Like he's trying to freeze me out and head off whatever heat is smoldering between us.
Part of me wants to corner him when there are people around to see, but far enough away that they won't hear. So then he can't punch me again when I try to explain. Not that I can say much.
These secrets are going to be the death of me.
Two more away games are looming on the horizon, and I can already feel the nerves settling like dread in my bones. What is it going to be like now? Trapped together on long bus rides, in tight locker rooms, then alone in a hotel room…
Once again, I contemplate requesting a different roommate. It's the right thing to do.
But I don't. Coach and the rest of the team have finally started to forget the feud between us, and I don't want to bring it up again or make a scene.
AndGod help me, a part of me doesn't want to be away from him.
Worse still, I kind of want it to happen again. Which makes me a terrible, awful person. I can see how tormented Gideon is by what happened. It’s evident in the tension in his rigid posture, or the way he looks like he's in pain whenever we're in close quarters.
Friday after practice, the team takes advantage of a rare Saturday off. We go out for wings and beer at a local sports bar. Everyone is in decent spirits after a win, despite the string of losses that came before it. Coach doesn't want us to get too in our heads about it. We're a young team, still finding our footing, he says. But I know a lot of us are worried we might never get called up if we don't start to perform better. Even so, the mood is light as everyone takes seats around a long table. Gideon ends up across from me. The tension between us is so thick, I have a hard time imaginingthat the guys around us can't feel it. It's palpable, and it's making me sweat.
It's worse than it was before. Something has shifted, making the pull between us even stronger, but turning it into a twisted, ugly thing that can't be denied or ignored. Like a box has been opened that won't be shut again. There's no shoving everything back inside. No pretending it didn't happen. Every glance, every twitch of muscle, every pause between words feels loaded. Every time he walks into a room, I'm even more aware of him. Every time I catch him looking at me, even for a second, I feel it.
Neither of us are very good company, and I decide to leave early to allow the others to enjoy their night. I make an excuse about spending time with my wife, to which many of our surrounding teammates jeer and wolf whistle. My face turns redder than the Red Valley Blaze hoodie I'm wearing.
As I'm pushing my arms through the sleeves of my coat, I pointedly don't look at Gideon, but I can feel his stony glare on the side of my head. I feel it the same way I felt the way he looked at me that night. Like I was something to fear. Something dangerous. Something shameful.
I want to be angry about it. I want to be furious. He was the one that initiated the whole thing, after all.
But mostly I just feel sick.
When I get home, Lily takes one look at me and nods. "Let's have a sit," she says.
That's her way of saying we need to have a heart to heart. All of our hardest conversations have started with those words. The day she told me she was pregnant. The morning we got married and she wanted to ask me if I was sure that tying my life to hers was what I wanted. The day we decided I would pursue playing hockey professionally. The day she suggested I go out and "meetsomeone" so I wouldn't be so lonely. She usually knows what to say to help me process, but this time I'm dreading the talk. How can I have a heart to heart if I can't tell her what's really bothering me?
I should have seen this coming. As much as I've been trying to act normally around her, she notices that I'm off. Of course she does. She watches me with that quiet, surgical attention of hers. The kind that sees straight through my bullshit. I've never been able to hide anything from her, except this one thing. It was easier to hold on to it when I wasn't being confronted by the very problem every day. I know she can probably guess that things between me and her brother are the problem, she just doesn't understand why.
Lily comes back into the living room after double checking that Addy is asleep and sits on the couch next to me. Just like she always has, she drops down beside me and folds her legs up under her and stares at me like we're thirteen years old and she's about to show me there’s still a safe space for me in the world. With her.
"Ready to talk about it?"
I hesitate. My throat locks up. God, I want to tell her so bad. I want to spill every terrible thing I've been carrying. But I can't.
It's not my truth to give.
She watches me silently panic for a beat before she says anything. "Is this about Casey Ives?"
Well that catches me off guard. "What about him?"
"After what he told everyone on Thanksgiving. I just wondered if any of the guys have been acting weird about it. They all seemed cool sitting around the table, but they could have just been being polite for my sake." She pauses and twists her lips. "Although I suppose Gideon didn't exactly say anything supportive. Please tell me he's not being an ass about it?"
"No. No. Definitely not."
"Well, that's good. You know as well as I do what kind of messed up stuff we were taught. Maybe our daddy wasn't as cruel as yours was, but there was a lot of pressure to act a certain way. I always felt like Gideon struggled a little with it, but that doesn't mean he didn't take some of that into his adulthood, you know?"
I nod slowly. Yeah, I do know. And once again, she's hit the nail on the head without quite knowing what she's building.
"Mostly, I was just wondering how you're doing with it. If it, you know… brought stuff up for you?"
A small scoff escapes me, and I look down at my hands. "You could say that."
"I thought it was kind of reassuring to know that at least those few teammates were cool about it. It's got to be at least a little comforting to know you're not the only one."
