Page 75 of Puck to the Heart
Okay, I did let ahotel party get out of handonetime four years ago, but the assistant coach had a long memory.
The darkness settled over my skin and into my mind as I replayed every wrong move on a loop in my brain. I might as well have been watching a game tape titled “Ash Wilder’s Mistakes”.
And I madea lot.
It was like being on the ice for the first time again. It washorrible.
A missed save replayed for the thirtieth time when a sharp rap sounded on my door.
The cart pushed in, nearly rolling over my foot as soon as I opened it.
“Holy shit, it is so dark in here. Were you planning to eat in the dark, too?”
The voice was familiar, but I had to squint against the light spilling in from the corridor. A lamp flared on, illuminating the form of a woman?—
“Barnes?”
“The one and only.”
“What are you doing here? And how did you get my food?”
“I’m here for you, Wilder. And the server said he’d been standing outside your door, knocking, for like, five minutes. He was very grateful yourwifeshowed up when she did.”
“My…” I trailed off, considering how the word tasted. I didn’t hate it, and damn, what a frightening concept.
“Wife, yeah. Sorry, I figured it’d be the only way he’d let me in. Next time I’ll try yoga instructor, though, if pretend matrimony scares you.” As she spoke, she took the metal covers off plates, plunking them on the tiny table across the room.
“Wasn’t it my idea to pretend to be married last time?” My tone was mockingly playful as I remembered our first night.
“What—oh. That first night.” A smile brightened her eyes as she pulled out a chair and plopped into it. “I guess it was. I must’ve missed the proposal somewhere in all the smirking and leaning.” When I stood there, staring, she pointed at the chair opposite her. “Sit.”
I did as I was told, trying not to think about her being therealMrs. Barnes. “Those are mine,” I said as she swiped a handful of limp French fries off a plate.
“They’re terrible. You can keep them.” She ate a few more anyway, popping the lid off the tiny jar of ketchup and dunking them in. “Actually, since you took so long answering the door, I took the liberty of ordering more. They’ll be here soon.”
“Took the liberty, huh?” The old-fashioned phrase sounded out of place but not entirely unexpected from Olivia, with her leggings and sneakers and oversized sweatshirt emblazoned with the chemical structure of dopamine.
“Yeah. You’re welcome for my liberties.” Leaning back in the chair, she popped another fry in her mouth as she eyed me. But I didn’t have energy for a rejoinder to her double entendre.
My insides gnawed at themselves in hunger. Tomorrow, a litany of sore muscles would remind me not to wait so long to eat after a game, but my stomach kept churning.
“That bad, huh?” Olivia gestured to the uneaten burger on my plate.
“If you want it, you just have to ask.” I slid the plate toward her.
She frowned. “Ash.”
“I’m fine.”
“Well,thatis certainly something a person who is fine would say.”
“I am.”
“Clearly.”
I grumbled. I didn’t want to do this; I wanted to let my bad mood sink in and wrap around my bones until it took over.
“Stop wallowing.”
