He nodded. “Of course. And some basics. There was no grand plan to do this tonight or even tomorrow, but I thought I should have supplies ready so we could come here one more time before camp is over. Tonight seems like a good night.”
I glanced up at the starry sky and nodded. “I like being kidnapped. It’s kind of sexy.”
Jake snorted. “Good to know. I’m feeling territorial, but I’m glad it came across as sexy. It feels like we’re constantly with teenagers and hockey players. Do you think any of them saw us leaving the rink together?”
“Dunno. They’ll assume you lured me with Pop-Tarts, put a fork in me, and tossed my body in the lake.”
“Probably.”
We stared out at the calm water, leaning against each other like old friends. Or old lovers. The glimmer of moonlight and the shelter of the towering trees surrounding us evoked a timeless quality—like anything was possible. Maybe even time could stop for a few hours.
So of course I had to ruin it.
“How much longer do we have?” My voice sounded like gravel.
“Four days,” Jake replied.
“What happens next?”
“I don’t know.”
“Will it be over?” I closed my eyes briefly and powered on. “I mean, maybe we just have summer. Every year we could meet here, camp for a week and go off the grid, and resurface to coach the juniors.”
“And during the season?”
“I kick your ass on the ice.”
“Right.” Jake snickered, and released a weary sigh. “I wish I knew how to slow time.”
Me too.
Days and nights were speeding by at an accelerated rate. The summer air was tinged with a cool bite that indicated autumn was closing in, school would be in session soon, and preseason hockey would be under way. I usually loved the change of season. No, I fucking lived for it.
But now…change made me nervous.
“We need a plan,” I insisted.
“What kind of plan?”
“Visitation plan. Like…whenever you’re in Denver, we meet up and?—”
“And how do you explain me to your teammates or your neighbors or the press? They’ll all know we’re friends by the end of camp, and that’s all the mileage we can get out of our feud. They’ll be actively discussing our retirement next and which one of us will end up covering games on network TV. And real life will happen too. You’ll probably meet someone and?—”
“Fuck that,” I choked out. “You’ll meet someone before I do. Some beautiful girl who lights up when you walk in the room and?—”
“Stop.”
I stopped. I was making myself queasy, and this wasn’t the lighthearted banter we both needed.
“Sorry.”
Jake inclined his chin slightly. “We play hockey, Mase. It’s what we do. It’s all about the love of the puck. You’ll be in Denver next month, and I’ll be in Boston. That’s it. I don’t want you to risk anything for me. If you have five more years in the league, make them the best.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll do the same.” He dug into one of the bags and pulled out a box of cinnamon Pop-Tarts. “I’ll come out at some point, though.”
“Really? When?”
