Page 131 of Time to Shine

Instead, Casey was blinking back tears next to a row of pillows he’d assembled as a terrible Landon substitute.

Saskatoon was...fine.

Landon had been back for three weeks, and it was good, being a full-time starting goalie again. No question. And he was playing well, despite the fact that he felt like a black hole of sadness every minute of every day. And being around his old teammates was nice. Comfortable. So things were okay.

But, man, Landon sure missed traveling by plane.

He was on a bus, now, heading for Des Moines, his knees pressing uncomfortably into the back of the seat in front of him. He’d been staring out the window for hours, even though there wasn’t much to see besides blackness. It was after two AM, and most of the men on the bus were asleep. Felix, the other goaltender and Landon’s current seatmate, had been dead to the world since they’d left Winnipeg three hours ago.

Three hours down, seven to go.

Maybe, Landon mused, he would get traded to an East Coast team. The cities would be closer, the bus trips shorter. And he could see his family more often. It wouldn’t be bad. And maybe it would make things easier, being farther away from Casey. Saskatoon was frustratingly close to Calgary, and he may as well be in New England or somewhere else that was far enough that he’d stopped hoping Casey would show up at his door.

It was a ridiculous thing to even fantasize about because their schedules would never allow it. And besides that, Landon had been pretty committed to being a huge asshole to Casey since they’d parted. Not in an obvious way, but in a pretending he was too busy to call or even text him back kind of way, even when Landon was dying to hear Casey’s voice.

It was easier this way.

Well, no. It was fucking excruciating. But it would be easier. Someday. Landon had to believe there would be a morning when he would wake up and not instinctively reach for Casey, only to be crushed by the weight of reality. There might be a day, far in the distance, when he didn’t imagine Casey making a joke about something, or gently teasing Landon, or being excited about some ordinary thing. Maybe a day when Landon didn’t miss Casey so fucking much.

But that day would never come if Landon didn’t force himself to forget.

“I think my biggest mistake,” Casey said as he set his empty pint glass on the table, “was falling in love with him.”

“So it’s that bad, huh?” Lee said, then popped a piece of fried cauliflower in his mouth. He’d insisted on having lunch with Casey after their practice in Philadelphia because he wanted to address the constant state of misery Casey had been in for the past month. Casey knew there was no point in denying the reason for it.

“Yeah. It’s really fucking bad.” Casey drummed his fingers on the table. “But it was so good before he left. I mean, he was, like, I dunno. Guarded, I guess.” He huffed. “Makes sense. He’s a goalie.”

“Guarded against what?”

Casey shrugged one shoulder. “He knew he was leaving. We both knew; I just thought we could make it work.”

“And he didn’t?”

“I guess not. He won’t even talk to me.”

“I’m sorry,” Lee said.

“I think he’s trying to protect himself. I’m not smart enough to do that, so I’m lugging around a broken heart while he’s...doing whatever.”

Lee rested his elbows on the table and leaned in. “If he’s trying to protect himself, it must mean he’s got some pretty big feelings for you.”

Casey picked up a piece of cauliflower, then set it down on a side plate. He wasn’t hungry. “Even if he does, I don’t think it matters. He wants to forget about me. And I...” Casey had to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat. “I can’t forget about him. I don’t want to.”

Lee looked at him seriously for a long moment. “Damn. You really are in love with him.”

Casey nodded. “He got me, y’know? And I think I got him too. We’re good for each other.” He swallowed again. “We were good for each other.”

“You were,” Lee agreed. “I could see it. And there’s something else you said back there that I want to address: you’re not stupid, Casey.”

Casey huffed. “Since when?”

Lee shook his head and swore under his breath. “This is my fault. We chirp you all the time, and I told myself that we do it out of love.”

“You...what?” Casey had no idea what Lee was looking so upset about. “Everyone teases me. It’s okay. I get it.”

“It’s not okay if you take it seriously. I should have noticed, and I’m sorry. Because I mean it: you’re not stupid.” He stared at Casey, waiting for something. When Casey nodded, Lee nodded back, and continued. “The truth is, you notice people, y’know? You always seem to know what everyone in the room is feeling, or what they might need. That’s big-brain shit, Hicks. That’s emotional intelligence. The important stuff.”

Casey was rarely at a loss of words, but he truly didn’t know what to say. No one had ever said anything like that to him before.

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