“I still don’t understand what the issue is,” Liam says.
“I think I love her.”
“I still fail to see the problem.” Liam leans back in his seat.
“Move aside, Lee,” I say, scooting in to sit directly in front of my brother.
“Johnny, look at me. It’s okay.” I know exactly what the problem is. Johnny thinks he’s unlovable and he’s scared about whatever he’s feeling.
“Is that why you wouldn’t play with Bettsy? Why you switched pairs?” Ryan says. He turns to whisper something to Liam. “But why did you give up your captaincy?”
“You did what?” My mouth drops open. “What do you mean, you’ve given it up?”
“I had no choice. What kind of leader does this? I’m not a good role model. I’m not even a good person.”
“That’s not true. Johnny, look at me.” He forces his head away from his hands. There’s sorrow in his eyes. “You can’t help who you fall in love with, and since she’s not married and not underage, what’s actually stopping you?”
“I—”
“You need time to think,” I say. “Does Michael know?”
“You can’t tell Bettsy!” Johnny protests, as if I’ve asked him to step in to goal.
“Well, if you want to be with Kelly, then you’ll need to. There’s literally no reason not to tell him. He’ll be fine.”
It crosses my mind if this is a good time to be telling Johnny about me and Liam, but it passes when there’s a knock at the door.
The GM sticks his head in.
“Everything okay? We’ve got a meeting—”
“Yep, just leaving, sir,” I say, shoving Johnny’s cap back on his head.
We usher him out, trying to ignore the queue of people waiting to go into the conference room as we pass.
“Well, what now?” Ryan asks.
“Can you take Johnny home? Make sure he gets some sleep. He may feel exhausted enough now he’s got it off his chest—”
“I’m sorry, Vic,” Johnny says. “I mean, I’m really sorry.”
“I get it, don’t worry.”
I may tell Johnny not to worry, but I’m doing the worrying for both of us.
A week following, Johnny still hasn’t told Bettsy, by all accounts. When I call in to see him before my Saturday session with the rugby team, he looks paler than ever. He answers his door in sweatpants and an old t-shirt that desperately needs to be laundered. Uneven stubble covers his usually clean-shaven face, and his hair, desperate for a cut, is a ruffled mess.
“Oh, Johnny,” I say, throwing my arms around him. It’s only been two days since I’ve seen him, but it’s clearly been two days of complete heartache for him. And he does not smell fresh.
“She doesn’t want to see me anymore,” he says, returning my hug. “She said she can’t keep it a secret any longer, and she doesn’t want to see me until we figure it out.”
“Well, that’s easily fixed,” I say optimistically. But when I see the inside of his apartment, I want to take it back. Johnny, who’s usually so neat and tidy is living in a pigsty. This will not be easy at all.
I glance around before making my way to the window to pull open the curtains. I open the window to get some fresh air circulating and turn back to the living room to assess the extent of the mess.
There’s a Johnny-shaped imprint on the sofa, and he climbs back into his spot to resume his wallowing.
“Oh no, you don’t. You’ve got a game today. Snap out of it and focus,” I say. “You’re going to morning skate.”
