Page 35 of Time to Shine

Casey flinched, and a heavy silence filled the car.

Landon exhaled. “I’m sorry. Jesus, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

Casey swallowed. It was probably weird for someone who played hockey for a living to be averse to conflict but, well. He didn’t need a psychologist to tell him that he had an intense need to be liked.

“It’s okay,” he said quietly. “I get it.”

They drove the rest of the way home in silence. Casey didn’t even put on any music. It had snowed a bit during the game, which was something he normally would have mentioned, just to make conversation, but he wanted to give Landon the quiet he needed right now.

The game had been a disaster for Landon, no question. Definitely not the start you want to your big league career. Everyone had bad games, Casey included. Even with the goal he’d scored, he wasn’t thrilled with his own performance tonight. But goalies had bad games in an entirely different and more noticeable way than anyone else on the team, and Landon’s bad game had been super noticeable.

Landon sniffed loudly beside him. Casey glanced over, but Landon was turned toward the passenger-side window, hiding his face.

Casey opened his mouth, considered a few things he could say, then didn’t say any of them. He closed his mouth and kept driving. His left shoulder was throbbing and would need some ice when he got home. He’d gone down on it hard after a heavy hit against the boards. He was sure it was nothing serious, just a bad bruise probably. Regular hockey shit.

When they got home, Landon said, “Thanks for the lift,” as if that was necessary, then went immediately to the basement.

Casey stared at the basement stairs for a minute or two after Landon was gone, wanting to follow him and talk to him, but also wanting to give him his space. In the end, he went to the kitchen to get his postgame snack from the fridge and an ice pack from the freezer. Landon’s groceries were tucked among Casey’s prepackaged meals, the only evidence that Casey even had a roommate.

He sat at his kitchen island to ice his shoulder and eat, rather than heading to the living room. The silence made him anxious, but it was nice knowing that someone else was in the house with him. Even if that person was already sick of Casey.

Casey twisted on his barstool, back and forth, and wondered if Landon was crying. He wondered if leaving him alone really was the best thing for him.

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t just go upstairs to bed and leave Landon all alone with his misery. He grabbed a bag of grapes that Landon had bought and carried them down to the basement.

Landon’s bedroom door was closed, which wasn’t a surprise. Casey knocked softly. “Hey. I brought you some grapes.”

There was a long silence, and then Landon said, “What?”

“Grapes. I thought you might be hungry.”

“I’m not.”

“Oh.” Casey felt silly now, standing outside Landon’s door, holding a bag of grapes for no reason, but he still didn’t want to leave him. “Maybe you will be?”

“I don’t need grapes.”

“Okay. Well, maybe I’ll just put them outside the door here. And maybe I’ll sit here with them for a bit.”

Landon must have moved close to the door, because his voice was louder when he asked, “Why?”

“I know you don’t want to talk to me, or see me, but maybe I’ll just be here. For a little bit. So you don’t have to be alone.”

Landon didn’t reply. Casey sat on the floor, his back against the door. He wondered if Landon would mind if he ate one of the grapes. They looked good.

“You don’t have to keep me company,” Landon said.

“I know. Do you want me to leave?”

There was a light thump against the door, which may have been Landon’s forehead. “No.”

Casey smiled. “You know what I was thinking?”

“That I’m the worst goalie you’ve ever seen?”

“Nope. I was thinking that we need to go shopping before we go to Vegas. You need something slick for the clubs.”

Landon huffed. “I don’t think I’m going to be here long enough for it to matter.”

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