Page 101 of Our Offseason

I’d seen Tyler around our hometown in Northfield through the years, and Claire had even hung out with him here and there. But I hadn’t really faced him or talked to him in what… six or seven years? He was still a teenager the last time I drove away from their house… I knew as I drove down their bumpy driveway that it was going to be the last time too…

Nope. No. Do not go there, Addie,I reminded myself.

I needed to shake off these stupid feelings. I closed my eyes tightly, trying to wash away the memories.

Whatever… It's not like Tyler and I ever really spent a ton of time together anyway. Sure, he came to a couple of those legendary bonfire parties and stood on the edge of them because he was too young to actually join in… but they were at his house, so he was definitely there. I was too busy, wrapped up in my party phase and soaking up every second of sitting on his older brother’s lap and being so unreservedly in love with him to even notice what Tyler was doing.

That mental picture… sitting on his brother’s lap, his rough hands rubbing up and down my legs, him kissing my neck, feeling his smile against my skin as his friends chirped him for PDA… It practically made my heart seize.

I placed a hand on my chest and tried to steady my breathing.

As soon as the elevator dinged open, I shook my head out and marched forward with strong strides.

This was my career. I needed to focus. And Hank was right, I had been begging for a flashy feature that would garner me some attention. This would work. It had to.

I made my way to the hallway that led out to the ice and mentally ticked off each player as they walked out of the locker room looking huge in their skates and equipment.

Griff, Duke’s brother-in-law, gave me a kind smile and reached out for a knuckle punch as he walked past me. Duke, who ran out behind him, picked me up in a quick hug.

I tried to hold my breath until he placed me back on my feet. Even though I grew up in rinks, I would never get used to the stink of hockey BO. I didn’t want to offend him by saying anything though. He was harmless, like a happy puppy.

Duke let half his mouthguard slide out of mouth and chewed on the rest. “Stop by the apartment for dinner this week, we miss ya,” he said, patting me on the head with his glove. “You’re workin’ too hard.”

I gave him an affirmative nod, and chuckled as he ran off to catch up with Griff.

The rest of the players gave me quick head nods or raised a gloved hand to say hello…

About three full minutes after everyone else was on the ice, Tyler pushed open the locker room door.

I felt like I stepped into a weird time-warp because he was so much older and larger and thicker than the last time I’d really talked to him. For some reason, I still pictured him as his teenage self. But… this Tyler, walking out in his Crewman practice jersey and wearing a helmet with a visor instead of a caged one like a kid usually wore, had actual facial hair… And it took my brain a second to catch up. I felt like an older sister who missed out on a whole decade of watching her little brother grow into a man… At one point in time, I really did think of him as family…which was pretty pathetic of me and a total sham anyway, so it was fine that I was writing the feature piece on him, I reminded myself… But the whole situation kind of knocked me into a trance, and I almost let him completely pass me by…

“Tyler!” I called out at the last minute.Damnit.I never used first names. I needed this interview to happen just like every other one, and I was already making it weird in my mind. “Um… Jettersen!”

He stopped and looked up.

He held a blank face as his eyes settled on me from behind his visor. He rested his chin on the butt of his stick and grinned.

He still had the same faint scar on his upper lip, the one he blamed on getting hit by a puck… Really, he tried to shotgun a beer for the first time at 14 but didn’t know how to do it and got his lip stuck in the can. He came running to us and asking for help. I could still see his desperate face and his brother– I omitted his name from my vocabulary long ago– next to me, trying so hard to be sympathetic but also dying of laughter inside.

I gave him a professional, tight-lipped smile even though my heart was anxiously beating out of my chest.

“I’m with the Detroit Gazette and we’re looking to run a feature piece on you for next week’s Sunday paper… I’m wondering if you’d have time to sit down for an interview?”

He smiled slowly and raised his eyebrows.

Fuck.

I hated asking him for a favor. I never wanted to ask another Jettersen for anything ever again.

He licked his lips. “How badly do you need this interview of yours?” he asked with a boyish smile sliding onto his face.

I took in a deep breath and balled my fists at my side before looking back at his expectant eyes.

He’d grown up to be a cute guy. I knew he would. He was always a cutie back in the day… He was different from his brother though. Tyler was all his mother’s side– skinner with chestnut colored hair. He was quick on his feet; a total offensive guy. His brother, on the other hand, was a true Jettersen, which was synonymous with “goon player” around the town we grew up in. An enforcer was probably a nicer term. He was a defenseman ‘til the very end.“I’m a lover, not a fighter,”he used to joke… but I knew the truth of it. He craved the fight. He craved it more than he craved me.

I cleared my throat and tried to stomp out all thoughts of the stupid past that I’d kept locked away for years.

“Come on, Tyler. You’ll love having your face in the paper, you know it,” I egged him on. He was a charmer. And dammit all to hell. First name use again. Why did I keep slipping up?

---