Page 70 of Just One Season
Saturday, October 26
Ihaven’t stopped thinking about the kiss at the photo shoot. Not for one minute.
That afternoon, I arrived deflated, raw, and vulnerable, which is usually how I feel after taking Ava to her oncology visits. She’s doing amazing. But I can’t forget the trauma of her diagnosis and her treatment. That shit was scary as fuck.
Kissing Lucy made the pain fade.
She brings something out in me. Something good and strong. Protective, and not just about my family. Because when I watch her with Ava, she looks like sheisfamily.
It’s a crazy thought.
It scares me.
Maybe we shouldn’t have kissed. Probably. Definitely? I’m assuming she agrees because we haven’t talked about it once in our approximately one billion text messages back and forth to each other.
Coach Jackson shouts and sends our line back on the ice—me,Harley, and Atticus. I desperately try to focus, but my mind is on Lucy.
A lot of our messages were pictures of Bear for me to show Ava, or action shots of Ava at soccer practice. My pictures to her have been a different vibe. St. Louis is a cool city, but we’re not exactly tourists when we play there, so I didn’t have many good photo opportunities.
She’s been telling me a lot about her mom to prepare me for Thanksgiving with her family. Honestly, her relationship with her mother sounds sweet and healthy. Her mom’s house is a real home for Lucy and Atticus when they’re there. I’ve tried to keep it positive and told her about my sister (we’re close but she lives far away), what it was like playing high level hockey in high school (crazy but exciting), and what it was like when Ava was a baby (I changed my first diaper).
Today, we’re at home playing the Winnipeg Jets, and one of their players zips through our defense and scores. Fuck. The crowd voices their displeasure, and Harley hits his stick on mine twice. It’s his way of indicating the play he wants to execute.
I shake away thoughts of my family and Lucy. Atticus and Harley perform the first passes of the play perfectly and deliver the puck to my stick, and I spin and toss the puck past the goaltender’s outstretched hand into the back of the net.
The crowd erupts. We’re down 3-2.
Our line skates off, and I collapse on the bench.
Why hasn’t Lucy shown up to this game? I haven’t heard from her today, which is weird, especially since I sent her a present this morning.
The Kellcy Fake Dating Planning Committee voted that she come to this home game wearing my jersey. I decided to also send her a few other things.
I might have gone overboard.
Paul and Savannah are probably in the corporate sponsorship box, but they have a pretty good view of the seats I got for thegame. Bri and Ava are already there, and I managed to secure another ticket for Lucy.
When we were away last week, I went out with Atticus, Lachlan, and Harley after our game. Atticus and Lachlan were hitting on women all night, but it wasn’t even a consideration for me.
Because I have a fake girlfriend.
And I just wasn’t interested in anyone.
What’s worse is that the boys left me alone, whereas they normally push a girl toward me. They seemed to accept the fact that I’m not available. But I am! Everyone is confused. I wonder what would have happened if I’d hit on one of those women? Took her home? Would Atticus have been pissed because of Lucy?
It’s getting really muddy.
I feel very much not single, even though it’s all an act.
Coach waves our line back on, and I glance up at the seats where Lucy should be sitting next to Ava and Bri as I glide onto the ice.
Lucy’s there. Wearing my jersey.
I focus back on the game. I have a ridiculous urge to show off for her. I play for myself, my teammates, and Coach, but right now, I want to play for her.
I shout a word at Atticus and Harley, and we attempt another play.
I weave in and out of the defenders like an Olympic level figure skater, but this time one follows me closely. I get the puck but can’t get a shot in, and we end up battling it out behind the net. I get the puck to Atticus on the side of the boards, but he doesn’t have a shot. But when I emerge out the other side of the net, he gets me the puck, and I fly it past the goaltender.
