Page 73 of Play Your Part

Guilt sat like a rock in my stomach.

“And here we go,” one of the announcers gleefully stated as the ref dropped the puck and Justin won the faceoff. “The game we’ve all been waiting for.”

I drank in everything about the game—the electric way the players glided across the ice, the sound of skates scraping and players slamming into the boards, the familiar music blaring through the arena, the team that belonged to my family. The game my mother loved.

I loved it too.

I forgot how much joy it brought me. Or maybe I buried it deep to avoid what I’d lost. That connection to my mother, to something bigger than myself. I remembered the giddiness of game day when I worked for the Wolves, how Deandra and I would change into our jerseys in the bathroom after work, the ones emblazoned with our last names. Sometimes we swapped, so I sported Collins and she wore Cole. We waited in long lines for overpriced beer and too-salty pretzels.

It wasn’t only that my parents owned the team. I loved that my work contributed to the event playing out in front of me, connecting people. It allowed them to escape from their lives for a couple of hours. My work mattered, not in some larger cosmic sense—I wasn’t curing cancer—but people showed up to support and love the organization I worked for.

Please tell me you’re watching this.My phone buzzed with a message from Gemma after the first scrum between Justin and Alexei with three minutes left in the first period. Alexei had gained a step on Justin while in the offensive zone, and Justin hacked at him. It took him off his skates and sent him sliding into the goal. Alexei popped onto his feet and charged Justin. Soon, every player got in on the action, taking swings or pulling players back.

I’m watching,I texted back.

Your little rivalry is heating up.

In the penalty boxes, Justin and Alexei shouted at each other. Justin smirked, enjoying every moment of their fight. Alexei looked the opposite, his expression murderous before he covered his face with a towel to dry his sweat and the blood from a cut on his chin. The cameras remained on them until the game resumed.

Not my rivalry.This hatred had existed long before I came into the picture.

The game was tied when the third period began, amping up the undercurrent of tension humming through the arena. The tension ignited when Alexei and Justin fought each other along the boards for the puck, an extended fight that ended with Alexei shoving Justin and Justin taking a swing at Alexei’s face.

The crowd erupted in cheers, screams, and pounds to the glass as they dropped their gloves to trade punches. Justin snagged Alexei’s jersey, limiting his range of motion as he continued to deliver hits. Alexei struggled to break free but used the momentum of his body to slam Justin backward onto the ice before falling on top of him. That prompted the refs to break it up and send them both back to the penalty boxes for the rest of the game.

Or what would have been the rest of the game, if someone had broken the tie.

Overtime didn’t last long. During the first shift, Justin shoved Alexei, the move annoying him enough to activate another gear. He hustled after the puck as it was passed to Justin, intercepting it and dodging a hit with a midair spin, to push the puck ahead to Briggsy, who put the game away. Zach skated along the edge of the rink with one leg in the air as he thrust both hands up. Alexei slid into his arms, an enormous grin on his face, before the rest of the team enveloped them both.

That was a hug Gemma would, no doubt, appreciate.

As if on cue, a text from her arrived a moment later.My heart can’t take this, Kennedy. MY HEART.

For once, I could relate. Not only because my stomach did a little flip when the camera found Alexei’s unbridled expression of joy, but also because I made it through a game. I’d missed it more than I realized, but I also missed her. My mom would have gone wild for that goal—shooting right out of her seat into the air, slapping the hands of people around her, screaming loud enough for teenage Kennedy to shrink away in embarrassment.

Alexei waved to the crowd as they chanted his name, over and over again, as he sat on the bench waiting to be interviewed after being crowned the game’s first star.Volk, Volk, Volk, Volk.Nothing stopped their chants.

The interviewer proceeded anyway, asking Alexei what this game meant to him.

“This is validation,” he answered, still breathing heavily. “No one thought we could win. They called it a rebuilding year, but this team has proven everyone wrong. And we’re going to keep doing it. Hopefully, in front of more amazing crowds like the one here tonight.” Screams rose again. Alexei smiled. “You all made the difference.”

I shut the TV off.

I wanted to feel like I did before. To feel excitement in my life. A sense of purpose. The joy that lit Alexei’s face after they scored the game-winning goal. But I had no idea how to get back to a place of such hope.

Hope felt reckless after all I endured.

Living without it, though, felt dim.

My life had been reduced to safe routines—living by someone else’s rules, working a steady but less-than-fulfilling job, closing my circle to a handful of people. I couldn’t go back to my old life. That life belonged to someone else.

But it didn’t mean I had to settle for the one I’d been living.

After slipping into bed, my mind wouldn’t stop replaying what happened the other night. Alexei called me a distraction. It cut deep, the reminder our relationship had been an act. And yet, part of me knew that wasn’t all it was.

You’re not cut out for it.My words back to him haunted me. I hated myself for saying it.

I pushed out of bed, threw on jean shorts, a tank top, and a hoodie, slipped into flip-flops, and made my way to his house. The doorbell brought no one to the front door. After a few minutes, I used the key Alexei had given me. My call ofanyone home? was met with silence, so I ventured further into the house until I found myself standing on the deck, watching Matt and Zach in the hot tub, eating pizza and drinking beer off two pool floats. A closed pizza box sat on the edge with a cooler, no doubt filled with more beer.

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