Three days of torture. Three days of unanswered calls and texts. Three days of wondering how I fucked up the best thing to ever happen to me. Three days of asking myself why I can’t trust her to love me the
way she says she does. Three days of wishing I wasn’t so fucked up from my past that I could take what she’s offering because it’s everything I need.
But my most constant thought over the last three days has been, how the hell am I going to get Seattle to pick me up when I don’t even have an agent?
I don’t want to leave Chicago. I don’t want to leave Maddison and Logan or my niece and nephew. I’m only a two-hour drive from my dad’s house, and my sister is a quick flight away.
But I can’t lose Stevie. I might not understand my trust issues or my fear of love, but one thing I know for certain is I can’t lose her.
I’m beyond desperate right now, needing to see her, needing to talk to her, needing to heal myself. Needing to feel anything other than the giant aching hole in my chest that only she can fill, but I don’t know how to fix any of it.
Even at two in the morning, fans line the airport gate, eager to greet us after coming home with two road wins and only needing two more to win it all. Shouts and cheers echo from the enthusiastic crowd, all wearing their red, black, and white waiting to get a glimpse of us stepping off the airplane in Chicago.
But I don’t care. Sure, I’m grateful for their support, and I’m stoked that we’re dominating this series so far, but the only reason I’ve been playing as well as I have been is because I need to pull off a miracle and somehow be able to choose where I land next season.
“Zee, hold up!” Maddison shouts while doing his captain duties, waving to the crowd, thanking them for coming out. “I drove you.”
“Well, hurry up. I need to go.”
I throw my suitcase in the bed of his truck before jumping in.
“You’re not going over there right now. It’s two in the morning.”
“Yes, I am. I need to see her. If she wants to move across the country, then okay. Fine. But I need her to say it to my face.”
“What if she does want to go?” Maddison pulls out of the private parking lot, heading home.
“She doesn’t.” Shaking my head in disbelief, I stare out the passenger window. “There’s no way in hell she wants to leave her brother or the shelter. This is my fault. She doesn’t want to go. She just wants to get away from me.”
Maddison barely parks before I’m out of his truck and running into his building. I don’t use his elevator, of course, because I’m not going to his apartment. Stopping a few floors below the penthouse, I quickly knock on Stevie’s door.
She doesn’t answer, but it’s after two in the morning, so no surprise there. I call. No answer. I text. No answer. She’s going to hate me, but I need to see her. I’ve been counting down the minutes since we took off from Chicago when I found out she wasn’t on board.
I continue to knock, trying not to pound on the wooden barrier, but fuck am I tempted.
“Go away,” I hear from the other side, but it’s not Stevie’s voice. “Ryan, open the door.”
“Fuck you.”
Okay, I deserve that.
I don’t leave. I stay standing, waiting, allowing him to look at me through the peephole until finally, he cracks the door open.
“Zanders, fuck you. Go home.”
“Please, just let me see her.” My tone is frantic, pleading.
“She’s not here.” He tries to close the door on me, but I use my arm to block it from shutting completely.
My eyes are boring into his, begging for some information. Ryan must feel bad for me or something because he gives me a once-over before letting out a resigned breath and opening the door.
“She’s still in Seattle.”
Still? It’s been days. “When is she back?”
“I don’t know. A couple of days, but it’s not your concern anymore.”
“Yes, it is!” My voice is much too loud for this early hour. “This is all my fault.”
“Well, at least you’re right about that. I’m going to bed, so you can leave now.”
I put my arm in the way of the door once again. “What can I do to fix it? I know you don’t want her moving there any more than I do, so please, Ryan. What the fuck do I do?”
He contemplates, looking me up and down, probably wondering if he should willingly help the man who broke his sister’s heart. But finally, his shoulders slack, giving in.
“She’s gone through life believing she’s the second choice, and you go ahead and reaffirm that by choosing your fucking playboy persona over her? What the fuck is that?” His voice begins to rise with anger. “She hated the limelight when it came to me but was willingly going to live in it because she wanted to be with you, and you break up with her the moment anyone learns about her? Come on, man. Don’t be so dense. That was fucked up. And now she’s about to move two thousand miles away because of you.”
“You encouraged her to go!”
“You didn’t see her that day! I just wanted her to feel better, but even though she’s acting like she’s okay, she’s not. Your playboy bullshit was more important than her, so you can go ahead and fucking fix it.”
He’s right. I can be mad all I want that Ryan suggested she move, but at the end of the day, I caused this. We were happy, and I ruined it.
“I fired my agent.”
His head jerks back. “What?”
“I was tired of playing into it. You’re right. I did choose my image over your sister. I fucked up, and lost her, so I fired my agent.”
“Aren’t you in a re-signing season?” His brows are creased with confusion. “You’re throwing your career away.”
He doesn’t need to remind me. I already know.
“No one wants you to lose your career over this, Zanders.”
I pop my shoulders in a shrug, trying to remain as casual as I can. My career isn’t at the top of my priority list to fix right now.
“Jesus,” he releases a startled laugh. “You really do love her.” Ryan closes the door on me, but before it’s completely shut, I hear him say, “You should probably figure out a way to tell her that before it’s too late.”
The atmosphere is nuts for game three of the Stanley Cup Finals. The United Center is packed, every seat and standing-room ticket sold. We were down 3-2 coming into the third period, but Maddison scored early, and one of our rookie wingers pulled off a miracle of a shot, giving us the one-goal advantage and a three-game series lead.
As the final seconds wind down, I can’t help but feel overwhelmingly emotional.
This city has been everything to me over the last seven seasons. Sure, I had to play into a character I didn’t want to be, but overall, the time I spent in a Raptors jersey has been the best of my life. This is the first and only organization I’ve played for. My best friend landed here shortly after I did, putting us on the same team for the first time in our lives. I’ve built a family here, a home, and potentially after tonight, I only have one more game in this building.
I don’t want to count a win before it happens, but it’s hard to believe we won’t clinch the series in game four when we’re playing in our own arena. The way we’ve been communicating, scoring, our goaltending. Home-ice advantage. In my gut, it’s going to happen with a series sweep. I know it.
Home games were a disadvantage to me only months ago, being in this building and knowing I didn’t have anyone here for me. On the road, at least I knew no one else had their fan base cheering them on or waiting for them to come out of the locker room. But here, it’s a constant reminder that I’m alone.
That is until Stevie started coming to watch me play earlier this season. Knowing she was in the crowd or hiding away, waiting for me to come out suited up after our games, did something to my confidence. I had someone
to play for that wasn’t just me. The boost I got from being the hated visitor was nothing compared to the love I felt at home games with my person.
But I’m alone again. The ticket I left for Stevie never got picked up, and the only family here for me isn’t mine at all. It’s Maddison’s.
I close Coach’s office door behind me before making my way back to my locker stall.
“Everything good?” Maddison asks from the locker next to mine.
“Yeah, but I’m not going to be at practice tomorrow. I got the okay to skip.”
“Zee, we’re one game away from potentially winning it all. What the fuck do you mean you won’t be at practice tomorrow?”
I dump my used jersey into the bin sitting in the center of the locker room before leaving my skates in my stall to get sharpened.
“I have something more important I need to do.” Finally, I make eye contact with my best friend, as he stares at me dumbfounded. “Trust me. It’s going to prepare me for this game more than any practice ever could.”
The drive back to my hometown takes just over two hours from Chicago. I’ve lived only two hours away for the last six years yet have only made the drive twice in all that time. Once was for Lindsey’s birthday, and another was when my dad hurt his back on the job and wound up in the hospital.
Two hours away may as well have been a hundred. It didn’t matter if I was just down the street or across the country. I was too angry to come back here. I was too angry to see him.
That misplaced anger has kept me from a relationship with my dad for twelve years, but allowing Stevie into my life opened a part of me I had shut off for far too long. I crave love in my life again. As scary as it’s been to realize that’s what she was offering me, I know deep down, it’s true. Stevie loves me—loved me—and I’ve been so afraid of allowing anyone to love me that I pushed her away. I pushed my dad away too.
I went by the house first, but his truck wasn’t in the driveway. It didn’t take long for me to drive around my tiny hometown until I found it parked in the lot of the only sports bar in town. My dad doesn’t even drink, but he’s big into shooting pool, so I’m not too surprised to find him here after work.
The last time I talked to my dad, Stevie was with me, and I wish she were here again. The weeks without her have revealed how deeply she was embedded into every part of my life. Everything was better, easier, more fulfilled with her, but I didn’t notice at the time because she infiltrated my life so flawlessly. I guess I always needed her to fill the gaps but didn’t notice they were hollow until she was gone.
Locking up my car, I head inside. I don’t even try to hide or keep my head low as I enter. This town is small. I made it big in the NHL. Everyone knows who I am, yet it’s not like the fanfare I receive in Chicago. Here, people are just proud of me.
The small run-down bar quiets as I enter, not that it was all that loud to begin with. Less than twenty patrons are inside, and almost all their eyes are on me. I stand out most everywhere I go, but here, in my hometown, my Tom Ford pants, Balenciaga sweater, and Louboutins may as well be a flashing neon sign.
“Well, look who it is,” the bartender announces to the hushed bar. “Mr. NHL himself gracing us with his presence.” He bows dramatically. “To what do we owe this honor?”
“Good to see you, Jason,” I laugh while knocking fists with my old high school teammate as he stands behind the bar. “Is my dad here?”
“Pool table.” He nods towards it.
I head in that direction before I hear him yell from behind me, “You winning us the Cup tomorrow or what?”
Turning around, I face him, wearing a knowing smile. “Planning on it.” The only pool table in the place is hidden in the back room. My dad and
I used to come here on the weekends when I didn’t have hockey. We’d hang out and have a couple sodas while he taught me how to shoot a pool cue, so I know exactly where to find him.
“Mind if I join?”
My dad glances up from his perfectly lined-up shot. “Evan?” He stands up straight, the pool stick at this side. “What are you doing here?”
His jeans are worn-in around the knees, and his work boots are completely scuffed and discolored at the toes, telling me he came here right from the construction site. My dad is a blue-collar man who works back- breaking jobs to provide for his family. His kids are both extremely successful in their respected fields, yet he continues to put in hours, offering
his blood and sweat, regardless of how many times Lindsey has volunteered to retire him.
“I wanted to see you.”
My dad stands still in shock. “I was hoping we could talk.”
He finally nods his head. “We can talk.”
I walk around the table opposite him, both of us keeping our eyes on the random pool balls scattered around the table and not on each other.
“Re-rack them,” my dad suggests.
I do as he says, lining up the balls for a new game. I sense his confused stare on me all the while, and it follows me as I pull a cue off the wall.
When I turn back to face him, he quickly pulls his eyes away from me. “Go ahead and break.”
A small smile slides across my lips. “You can’t just give me the break.” I pull a coin out of my pocket, holding it up and reminding him this is how we always used to do it.
His chest vibrates with a small laugh. “Tails.”
Flipping the coin, I grab it from the air and slap it down on the back of my hand. “Tails it is.”
We stay silent as my dad breaks, tension thick in the air between us. But it’s not a negative form of pressure. It’s just that we both know there are a lot of things about to be said.
One of the striped balls falls into the far-left corner, giving him another shot.
We remain silent as he lines up again.
Four more shots alternate between us before finally, as I’m lining up my stick, I look up at him.
“I saw Mom.”
His eyes dart to mine. “What?”
I lean my pool stick against the table as I stand up straight. “I invited her over last week.”
His face drops with sympathy. “Oh, Evan. Are you okay?” I nod, unable to speak.
“What did you two talk about?”
“We didn’t really talk. I talked. At her.”
He stays silent, staring at me. My dad’s eyes are an interesting shade of gray, the skin around them wrinkled from age and years spent in the sun.
They hold a thousand questions as he looks at me, though he doesn’t verbally ask a single one.
“I’ve been so angry for so long,” I remind him. “I took all that anger out on you because you were here, and she wasn’t, but you didn’t deserve any of it. She had way too much power over my life, and I was tired. I wanted my control back.”
Those gray eyes of his turn a bit glossy. “You had every right to be angry at me. I’m the reason why she left.”
“No, you’re not. Mom is the reason Mom left, but you stayed, and I haven’t been able to thank you for that.”
He keeps his head down.
“I’m sorry for holding it against you all these years. I was selfishly so hurt that I couldn’t see what you were doing at the time. I felt abandoned by both of you, but you were gone because you were working more, making sure my life wouldn’t change. Hockey isn’t cheap, but I never missed a tournament because of you. You covered Lindsey’s LSATs. You made sure I had a good place to live. I never went hungry. I had everything I needed, and I haven’t thanked you for that.”
He nods, keeping his eyes on the ground. “So, thank you, Dad.”
He quickly uses his calloused fingertips to wipe under his eyes.
Finally, my dad looks up at me. “I know I wasn’t the same dad to you that I was before she left, but I tried. I really tried, Evan.”
“I know.”
“I was hurting in my own way, but at the same time, I felt guilty that I wasn’t enough to make your mother stay. I was the reason she left you, so sometimes it was hard to be home and see you. I thought you hated me, and I didn’t blame you one bit.”
Fuck, now my eyes are burning. “I never hated you, Dad. I needed you then, and I still do now.”
The rugged and sometimes cold man looks up at me from across the way, his face fallen soft and his masculine walls torn down as his eyes pool with tears.
“I love you, Dad.”
The words feel right and needed and long overdue as they come off my tongue. I haven’t said them to him in twelve years. I haven’t said them to
many people in the last twelve years, and the physical relief I watch that man experience makes me upset that I didn’t say it all this time.
“I love you too, Evan.” He quickly nods his head, trying to collect himself.
Walking around the table, I hug him hard as he holds me just the same. “I’m sorry I couldn’t say it before.”
“It’s scary sometimes. I know that.” His voice is soft with understanding.
We hold on a little longer before finally releasing each other.
“I was scared to let anyone love me for a long time,” my dad continues. “I was scared to love anyone else, too.”
“Are you still?”
He shakes his head. “Not anymore.” I keep my suspicious stare on him. “What? Don’t look at me like that.”
“Dad, do you have a girlfriend?” I tease. He pops his shoulders. “Maybe.”
“What?” A disbelieving laugh escapes me. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“It’s new. Kind of. She was a good friend to me for a lot of years, and she waited for a long time for me to be ready to let someone else into my life. Right before Christmas, I stopped being an idiot.”
A proud smile slides across my lips. “Can I meet her soon?” “I’d really like that.”
Any previous tension in the air is long gone as I grab my pool cue and line up my shot again.
“So, is there a reason you needed to come here and have this conversation the day before the biggest game of your life?”
I take my shot, not sinking a single ball, so I wait for my dad to take his turn, but he doesn’t. He keeps his attention on me, waiting for my answer.
There’s a long pause between us.
“Why didn’t you follow Mom when she left?” “Because some people aren’t worth following.” I nod in understanding.
“And some people are worth following to the ends of the earth.”
Keeping my burning eyes glued to the table in front of me, the emotions attack every one of my senses, wanting to surface.
“Do you have someone worth following?” he softly asks. I let out a sharp breath. “Yeah. I think I do.”
“Do you love them?” I nod, unable to speak.
“Then don’t let them go, Evan. I know loving someone is scary, and letting someone love you, especially after everything we’ve been through, is even scarier. But I promise you, with the right person, it’s worth it.”
It’s terrifying to trust someone to not leave me empty and hollow after I give them all of me. But regardless of never telling Stevie how much I love her, I’m just as empty and just as terrified from her absence.
“All these years, I played this bad guy who fans love to hate, and I enjoyed it because I knew they hated a made-up version of me. I didn’t want to give anyone the opportunity to hate the real me, but it also kept me from letting anyone love the real me. But I think someone loved the real me, and I may have lost her.”
“Have you told her you love her?” I shake my head with guilt.
“Then I think it’s time she knows.”
A pause lingers between us. “Dad, I don’t know where I’ll be playing after this season. No team is as close as Chicago, but I was hoping you’d let me start flying you out for games. I miss having you at the rink, and I know you need to work and—”
“I’ll be there.”
I offer him a grateful smile, pulling a ticket out of my back pocket. “Will you come watch me win the Stanley Cup tomorrow?”
“Look at you, Ev.” He shakes his head in disbelief, a giant smile on his lips.
“Is that a yes?”
He laughs. “Hell yeah, it’s a yes.” He snatches the ticket from my hand, looking it over in awe. “I’m so proud of you.”
I give him another hug.
“Can you introduce me to her tomorrow?” he asks. “If I can get her to the game.”
