Guilt strung his chest tight. He knew he couldn’t blame himself, but the barb stung all the same. “And here was I thinking you’d be able to manage just one game.”
One of the team’s rentals, brought in to improve their chances at making playoffs, rose. His eyes narrowed as he muttered something, before Matt told him to shut up.
Dan’s stomach tensed. Fighting with his teammates was no way to solve anything. They’d probably back down if they knew the reason for his absence. But still, another part of him didn’t want to expose himself to their pity. How could he play the role of top defenseman for his team if they caught him crying, like he probably would after that admission? No. He braced, his jaw tense. He just had to tough it out, get through these last games, clear out his locker for the season and come back next year to try again. He hoped.
He kept his eyes closed and feigned sleep during the plane trip home, avoiding conversation. When it landed, he gathered his stuff, and soon escaped to the parking lot. Among the BMWs, Audis and Mercedes, his Jeep stood out as one of the more humble vehicles. But utility as well as comfort was important, and he didn’t like to change his car in the winter like some of those driving more flashy vehicles did. Especially when he had so many trips to Muskoka.
“Dizzy, wait up.”
He paused, keys in hand as Brendan, his defense partner, hurried to his side. “Yeah?”
“I didn’t want ask inside with the others listening. ButisSarah okay?”
He closed his eyes, pressed his lips together.God, give me strength. He hadn’t even told the other guys in the online Bible study yet. Admitting it to Brendan felt fraught with difficulties.
“She’s not, is she,” Brendan said. Statement. Not question.
He shook his head.
Brendan’s breath hitched. “It’s not… cancer, is it?”
His shoulders eased. “No. She, ah…” He cleared his throat. “She had a miscarriage last week.”
“Oh, man. That sucks.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry,” the father of two said.
Dan really didn’t want to hear sympathy from someone who couldn’t know how he felt. Owning the truth felt like an impossible tightrope to walk along. One wayward word, one misplaced hug, and he might slip into the yawning abyss of anger he could feel swirling so close, ready to consume him. He needed to get out of here.
“Gotta go.”
“Is there anything we can do?”
“No. Unless you want to pray for us,” he goaded. They’d had a few discussions about faith in the past, and Brendan had always been reluctant, so that was an easy—
“Sure.”
Huh?
His surprise must’ve shown on his face because Brendan shrugged. “Hey, it can’t hurt, can it?”
“No,” he rasped. “Thanks.”
He managed to drive away without letting any emotion escape, but was glad for his tinted windows as he sat at a red light and angrily wiped away moisture. His heart was a mess of conflicting emotions. He was glad that Brendan was even going to pray, but seriously? God better not be using his loss to touch Brendan’s heart. That seemed so harsh.
By the time he parked next to Sarah’s SUV he was steaming. He probably should’ve gone to the gym at the club to burn off some of this energy. But if he had, he’d likely be forced to confront some of his teammates, and he had no patience for that. He had to calm down. Sarah didn’t need this. Anger wasn’t something he did too often—passionate outbursts was her domain—but he could feel himself on the verge of losing it.
His white-knuckled hands unclenched from the steering wheel, and he lowered his head. “Lord.”
So many things he could pray. So many things he didn’t know how to say. It felt overwhelming, a riptide of emotion that threatened to suck him out and drown him in the deep blue sea.
“Lord, I need You.” He knuckled away more stupid tears. “How do I do this? How do I love her when I feel so broken? I’ve got nothing.”
You’ve got Me.
His skin prickled. For a second, that actually sounded like God was talking to him.
