Talk Hockey to Me (Bears Hockey #3) - Kelly Jamieson Page 0,44
a hundred and fifty yards from the pin, and when he took his next shot it went into a bunch of geese. They were pissed and came straight for him.”
“Oh no!”
“It was hilarious, he was yelling and running away from a bunch of geese. Those fuckers can be mean.”
“And huge, some of them!”
“Yeah. At home, we called them cobra chickens.”
A laugh bursts out of her.
“They didn’t get him luckily, but we were all dying laughing.”
We order our meals, duck confit for me and scallops for her, and talk more as we eat, then decide to share a dessert. Kate pushes her fork into the brownie with mascarpone ice cream and says, “So. Can we talk business for a few minutes?”
“Of course.”
“Is the reason you don’t want to play for the Bears because Easton Millar and Josh Heller are there?”
I freeze solid. I stare at the brownie, my fork hovering above it. Slowly I lower my fork to the plate. I lift my eyes to meet Kate’s. As usual, her face is neutral, her eyes warm as she waits for my response. My chest rises and falls with each quick breath.
My jaw tightens. “Why do you ask that?”
I know that’s not an answer.
“I need to know what’s going on,” she says. “As your agent.”
This is agent Kate. Not fun, flirty, friend Kate. Okay. This is what we have to do.
“Obviously you know they played with me in Swift Current.”
“Yes.” She slowly cuts off another piece of brownie with the side of her fork.
“I don’t want to be reminded of the accident.”
She nods. “I understand that. But playing on the same team as them—”
“I don’t want to.” I cut into her sentence abruptly.
Her eyes flicker. “I think there could be a great opportunity for you there.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “Did you talk to them again?”
“Yes.”
“Fuck.” I glare. “I told you I don’t want to play for that team. Why would you even give them the idea I might?’
“It’s called negotiating,” she says dryly. “The more interest, the better.”
I shake my head. “Okay, I don’t know your job, but…I’m not going there.”
“Okay, this is your friend Kate talking now, not your agent. Tell me why.”
“You know why.” I’m afraid seeing them every day will trigger my PTSD. Do I have to spell it out to her? Christ.
“You’re afraid.”
Hearing her say it like that makes me defensive. Never mind I know goddamn well I’m afraid. I don’t want the whole world to know.
“Are you running away from it?” she asks softly.
There definitely was a time when I wanted to erase the accident from my past. I wanted to build big walls around the PTSD and deny its existence. Therapy helped me realize I couldn’t just pretend it never happened. I’ve been doing well, but seeing Easton and Josh…Jesus. They were my best friends. We were always together, on and off the ice. We were the best players on the team, all three of us supposed to play in the NHL.
The year after the accident was a mess for me, but I knew Easton got drafted that spring. It’s hard to describe the bitterness I felt about that, sitting in my cottage in Tofino, and then the dark shame that stained me because I wasn’t happy for my friend.
I also knew Josh had been badly injured and was in the hospital for a long time. By the time he got drafted the next year, I was in a better place, getting ready to go away to college to play hockey because at least it was hockey. I was glad he’d recovered well enough to play again, but it still hurt. My two best friends made it there without me.
We’ve never talked since the accident. I see them when I play against them, a few times a year, but I act like they’re opponents I don’t know. I play my toughest games against them.
Playing with them on a team would be totally different.
“I’m not running away,” I say. “I’m making the best decision I can for my mental health. And you should know that.”
Her chin jerks down, barely, but I see her reaction. She’s got a great poker face, but that got her. A curl of guilt twists in my gut.
“I don’t think I do know that,” she says coolly. “I’m not convinced this would be a bad move for you.”
Fire blazes through my chest. “It’s not up to you,” I bite out. “It’s up to me.”