“I call the pool house as my room!”
“How much insurance do you have on this place?”
I’m laughing because I can’t even imagine what next year is going to be like for those guys.
“Not gonna lie,” Van says, “I’m a little jealous. We got to live in a shithole, but these guys get to move into a freaking mansion. That’s harsh. Awesome, but harsh.”
“Agreed. How long do you think it’ll take for one of them to set the place on fire?” I ask.
Van’s lips twist like he’s in deep thought. “Mid-October,” he says decisively, and I can’t argue with that.
Rosco lets out another ear-splitting whistle as Ollie hops up on the bench.
“I’ll make this quick because we’ve got some skating to do. As you all know, our charity calendar is a freaking hit. It’s selling like hotcakes, whatever the fuck those are.”
I just shake my head as Ollie continues. I’m not surprised the calendar is doing so well, even if it is April. Claire does amazing work. And yes, I’m Mr. January. And yes, I’m dressed as a lumberjack.
“So, that’s the good news. We all look hot and people love us. But… it turns out that we aren’t actually a charity. I guess you have to file tax stuff for that?”
Rosco erupts into a coughing fit that sounds suspiciously like, “I told you so.”
“Yeah, anyway,” Ollie keeps going, “we had all this money, and we needed someplace to donate it to. We took a vote, and it was unanimous. The proceeds of the charity calendar will go to the cancer center at St. Mark’s hospital. The docs and nurses there are caring for someone who means a lot to all of us, so this is a way we could give back.”
The guys are clapping, but my brain is still catching up. Van gives me a knowing smile as he pats me on the back.
Rosco pumps his fist in the air. “To Mama Santos!”
“To Mama Santos!” the guys all cheer as they file out of the locker room, but I tap Ollie’s shoulder to get his attention.
“You…shit, I don’t even know what to say, man. That’s amazing. That money will help a lot of people. It’ll help Ma.”
“I know,” he says simply. “That’s why we did it.”
I don’t bring up the elephant in the room. Now’s notthe time to talk about the fact that he didn’t make captain. The fact that half the guys on the team voted for a player who might not even be here next season. Instead, I say what’s on my mind. “You’re the heart of this team, Jablonski. Don’t forget how important that is.”
He nods solemnly and follows me out the door. We make our way out of the locker room and into the tunnel that leads onto the ice. There are hundreds of people here tonight, but my eyes zero in on the person who matters most.
Claire Fowler.
At first, I wonder what she’s doing here, and if she came to see me. But when I see the camera around her neck, it’s pretty obvious she’s here forThe Howler.
I feel pretty dumb. I haven’t talked to her since I said I needed space. Why the hell did I think she’d come to Bruce on Ice tonight to see me?
I shake off my melancholy mood and try to enjoy the next two hours. The ice is open, so lots of little kids are skating around, and there are some couples, too. Looking at them only makes me think of Claire. I figured she’d be here with me tonight and that I could lead her around the ice the way Booker’s doing to Ian and Will is doing for Mel. She must’ve have gotten enough pictures, though, because I can’t find her, no matter how many times I scan the crowd.
When it’s over, I head to the locker room to shower. I’ll be back later this week to clean out my locker, and since Van was officially named as one of the assistant coaches, I’m sure I’ll be back to help when they need an extra hand.
I open my locker to change, but when I do, an envelope slips out and drifts toward the floor. I scoop it up just before it hits the ground. When I open it, there’s a note on top, so I read that first.
Pete,
I don’t know what’s going to happen with us. I don’t know if we can bridge the chasm between us, or if you even want to. But no matter what the future holds, I want you to have these. I want you to see yourself the way I see you.
Claire
I reach into the envelope and find a stack of pictures. They’re the ones Claire took of me in her bed before I left for regionals. That was only a few weeks ago, but it feels like an eternity. I’m afraid to look at them at first, partially because I know what my body looks like. I don’t really need pictures of it. But mostly I’m reluctant to look at these pictures because they’ll take me right back to that moment, and that’s a place I already visit in my mind.
I give in to curiosity, though, and I’m amazed at what I see. I look happy, confident. Fucking sexy, if I’m being honest. That might have to do with the beautiful woman in my arms, though. We look so good together, so connected. But in reality, at the first sign of trouble, we splintered apart.
