I think I see a familiar banged-up truck pull up in front of the donut store next door, and my gaze sharpens as I see Sugar get out.
She’s got a knit hat on her head, one of those with the hole in the top so her messy bun can spill out. She’s wearing her glasses and her black coat.
I immediately light up another cig, but then she always did make me crazy. My body strains to go over to her, to take her in my arms and tell her she’s mine, but we’re past that. I hold myself back. It’s the only way I know how to protect my mind from going off the deep end.
The closer she gets, the more I tense up. I blow my smoke up in the air, making rings, but my eyes are on her, all her, and I wait for her to feel me looking, to know the force of my gaze as she walks toward the entrance of the shop.
It happens.
She glances up, her hand on the door, and halts. Beautiful, intelligent blue eyes widen as she runs them over me. My chest heaves.
All it would take…
All it would take…
All it would take is one indication from her, a crook of her finger, a longing in her eye that she wants me, goddamn just anything and I would slay anyone in my path to get to her.
But she doesn’t give it to me.
She inhales a deep breath, turns away, and goes inside the store.
And that’s why I have to leave her alone—because she will break me—and focus on making myself better.
I stub out my cigarette, throw it in the trash along with the pack, and adjust the backpack. Jogging away quickly, before she comes back out and I change my mind, I cross the intersection and head to Willow’s grave. As I have so many times before, I follow the path to her plot, a small one near her grandparents. I was fortunate that her family buried her here, just a few minutes from where her parents live in the city. There’s a fresh bouquet of flowers, magnolias and evergreen inside a stone vase, and I wonder if perhaps it’s Reece who’s been leaving them all these years. I don’t know. He and I…we have more long conversations ahead of us. I take the letters out one by one and place them inside the vase with the flowers. Some of what’s written on those pages is an outright lie, and I guess somewhere up there Willow knows the truth.
I think she’d forgive me.
I talk to her. I tell her about Reece and our fight. I tell her about hockey and how I don’t think it’s going to work out for me. Most of all, I talk about Sugar, my voice gentle. I tell her how someday when I’m ready, I’m going to get her back; I’m going to win this fight with darkness and make her see that it was her all along.
The air brightens and the sun is rising as I stand and stare down at her gravestone. I feel lighter, my shoulders lifting as I kiss two fingers and send it to her. “Rest in peace, sweet girl. I won’t forget you.”
And then I’m gone with the wind, running, always running.
I run all the way back to the house.
Reece is sitting on the couch, an ice pack on his hand.
I walk over and sit down next to him. He’s looking at me, and shit, he looks so young, even though he’s only a year behind me. I feel fucking ancient.
He stares down at his hand. “Are we okay?”
“We can deal with this,” I say, my voice thick.
His eyes gleam with emotion and he hugs me, and all that shit between us, the tension…some of it eases. Our relationship has a long way to go, but somewhere inside me, I know we’ll make it through this. I think about Sugar and the poem about the bird. Like hope, no matter the storm, I’m not giving up on the people around me.
38
Zack
Several days later, I sit inside Coach’s office. ESPN is waiting in a conference room down the hall, full of reporters, cameramen, and lights. It’s a show and we’re about to perform. We’re huddled together—Coach Swearingen, myself, Eric, and Reece—and I go over my words, running through them in my head, hoping like hell I’m making the right decision.
We lost our conference championship to Minnesota-Duluth, but our team managed to qualify on