Puck You, page 31
A lump formed in my throat. All I could do was squeeze her tight and soak in the words as she told me everything I’d ever wanted to hear.
“The Red Wings want you. But you don’t have to accept a contract if you’re only doing this to make your father proud. You’ve already done that. You do it every day.” After a long moment, she added, “You haven’t let anyone down, Sebastian, least of all your father.”
Was that still true after last night? A half laugh, half sob escaped me. I’d never imagined I’d feel so miserable learning that my dream was going to come true. Everything I’d worked for was about to pay off. If what my mother said was true, I’d be playing for Detroit in a matter of months, living the life I’d set out to achieve when I was only twelve years old. But I could no longer see that perfect picture I’d painted of my future, the one where I was standing alone. It hadn’t been that way since I’d met Grace, even if I hadn’t realized it until now. I needed to fix this—to go to her and explain how fucking sorry I was for everything I’d said.
“I need to find Grace.”
My mom must have sensed the urgency in my tone because she didn’t question me as I raced from the living room in pursuit of my phone. But in my haste to reach my bedroom, I nearly collided with Bryce at the top of the stairs.
“She’s not here, Sebastian,” he said flatly, and I realized he must have been standing up here, listening to our conversation. “Grace left to go home last night.”
“She left—because of me?”
He made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. “Not everything is about you.”
“Then why did she leave?”
“First, tell me what was going through your head last night.”
Bryce’s face was tense—all furrowed brow and flattened lips, a hard look in his eyes that made me want to take a few steps back. “I know I fucked up. I let down our teammates—”
He let out a bitter laugh, and the sound stunned me into silence. “I was referring to the best thing that’s ever happened to you: Grace. You know, the girl you completely destroyed after your little tantrum on the rink.”
Destroyed. The word brought forth an image of her standing in the concourse at DuLane. I could still see the devastation written across Grace’s face as I tore into her deepest vulnerabilities. The things that I’d said—there was no coming back from that. Bryce was right, I’d destroyed Grace. How could she ever trust me again?
“What were you thinking?” he asked, and I shook my head, unable to find the words.
In only a few months, Grace had become the most important person in my life. That was why I’d been so torn up when I’d realized she wasn’t there last night. For the first time since my father died, I was going to look into the crowd and see someone I cared for, someone I loved, someone who truly understood what hockey meant to me and appreciated every moment on the ice for how special it was.
“I built up this stupid moment in my head, and when it didn’t come true—” I stopped short at the sound of my own words, realization dawning on me. Last night was no one’s fault but my own, and there was no excuse for how I’d acted.
“I’m sorry,” I said, knowing that it wasn’t enough. “I’ve been such a self-centered asshole since the accident.”
Bryce gave me a slow clap, his lips twisting into a sardonic smile. “I’m glad you finally figured out that the world doesn’t revolve around you.”
A crushing weight pressed down on my chest. The people in my life deserved more from me: Bryce, Grace, my teammates—Kate.
“When you’re with Grace, you’re like the old Sebastian, the one who was fun to be around and didn’t blame everyone else for his problems.”
He was right. I’d let my life be defined by hockey, and when that was taken from me, I’d lost myself. But Grace had helped me realize that I was someone outside of the rink. She was the best thing about me, and last night, in a moment of selfish rage, I’d thrown it all away.
“I’m going to make things right.”
“It’s not going to be easy, not after what you said to her. Not after—” He stopped himself short.
“Not after what?”
A telling silence hung in the air between us. I was missing something.
“Why isn’t she here, Bryce?”
His lips pressed together in a slight grimace before he said, “Her dad had a heart attack. She was rushing off to the hospital to see him when you . . .”
When I accosted her. Shame wrapped itself around my body in a smothering embrace.
“Is he okay?”
Bryce gave a solemn nod, though it did little to ease my conscience. I’d ruined everything over a split-second feeling of betrayal that wasn’t even real. I had to make things right, even if hell was more likely to freeze over than Grace forgiving me.
“She needs time at home to heal with her family. Give her that.”
“And in the meantime?” I asked, feeling at a complete loss for how to move forward.
“Figure out what the hell you’re going to do to make things right.”
Chapter 23
Sebastian
Every instinct was screaming at me to pick up the phone and call Grace. It felt like the longer we went without speaking, the less likely she was to forgive me. But her dad was in the hospital, and Bryce was right. She needed time at home to heal with her family. That was what was most important. Not my own anguish or the sense of growing panic I felt at the thought of losing her.
I couldn’t sit still or wait around, so after my parents left, I took a long shower to wash off the remnants of my hangover and immediately set off for DuLane. Once a place of refuge for me, the training center now carried with it the shame of my greatest mistakes. I walked the deserted corridors, drowning in sorrow at the lost sense of comfort I’d come to expect within these towering walls. When Coach Dawson’s office finally came into view, my misery doubled.
The surly man was hunched over a mound of paperwork, his glasses perched at the very tip of his nose. They looked one sneeze away from sliding right off his face. The room was in its usual state—cluttered with half-open boxes of equipment and empty bottles of Diet Coke, the whiteboard behind his desk hidden beneath a drawing of a three-on-two jailbreak drill. I hovered in the doorway hesitantly, working up the courage to step forward.
“Are you waiting for me to invite you in?”
Straightening my shoulders, I took a deep breath and stepped inside. Coach motioned for me to take the chair in front of his desk. For a long time, he said nothing, so I sat across from him and watched him work. The first few minutes of silence were the most awkward. Several times my mouth dropped open, an apology poised at the tip of my tongue, but the words never came. Something told me that this discussion needed to be on his time, and I was right. Eventually, he set down his pencil and leaned back into his chair. When I saw the look in his eyes, my stomach sank.
“I’ve coached for over twenty years now, and in all that time, I’ve never had a more talented player on my ice. You’ve got something special, Sebastian, no one can deny that,” he said, and I knew what three-letter word came next. “But if you can’t see past your own two skates, you’ll never make it in the pros. It’s more than proving yourself on that ice. You’ve already done that. Now you have to prove that you’re worthy of this team.”
“Understood, sir,” I said, my voice thick. “I’m sorry for letting everyone down.”
“I hope so. Just to make sure, I’m going to give you the week off so you can think about how you might serve this team better when you return.”
That was a nice way of saying he was suspending me for seven days, not just one game. “You should make Bryce the captain for the remainder of the year. He’s earned it,” I said.
Coach nodded in agreement. “That would be easy, wouldn’t it? But that’s not how life works. I want to see you earn the title you were given. This team depends on your leadership, and I won’t let you back down now that things have gotten tough.”
“I’m not the same guy I was when you made me captain, and I don’t think I ever will be,” I admitted.
“You don’t need to be that guy; you just need to be better than the guy you were last night.”
>> <<
If my weeklong suspension taught me anything, other than the obvious lesson of humility, it was that I needed more hobbies. It became painfully clear within the first twenty-four hours that I was aimless without hockey, and even more so without Grace. Every time I felt tempted to reach out to her, I remembered what Bryce had said when I’d told him I was going to make things right. It’s not going to be easy, not after what you said to her. I’d thrown salt in her deepest wounds, and only moments after she’d learned that her father was in the hospital. If I wanted Grace to forgive me, I needed something big. Something that showed how enormously sorry I was and proved without a shadow of a doubt that I’d do anything to make it up to her. It would take time, and help, which meant in the meantime, I needed to find some way to keep myself distracted.
Given my need for self-reflection, the most obvious choice was to pick up a book. This turned out to be an immediate failure when, upon walking into Nelson Library, all it took was the familiar scent of musty books to remind me of how much time Grace and I had spent hiding between the dusty shelves, exchanging heated looks when we were supposed to be studying. My next attempt was even feebler, given how doubtful I was from the very beginning, but the opportunity fell into my lap when I overhead a girl in my econ class talking about an upcoming poetry slam at the student union. I barely made it through the first set without losing it. When the student organizer standing in the corner of the café noticed my muffled laughter, she gave me the stink eye and I took it as my cue to leave.
It wasn’t until the fifth day of my suspension that I succeeded in finding something that stuck. In addition to the fact that it didn’t require an innate set of skills, cooking could be done in solitude, within the comfort of my own home. I was terrible at first, often resorting to calling my mother in a panic when something didn’t turn out or YouTube couldn’t help me. It was hard to keep up with once I returned to the rink, but I dedicated my free evenings to trying new recipes. With each passing day, I grew more confident, and things felt a little less tense with Bryce and my other roommates once I started feeding them on a regular basis.
One night, after scouring a baking website that my mother had recommended, I came across a recipe that hurtled me into a memory from sophomore year. Kate and I were at the beginning stage of our relationship, tucked into a corner booth in the back of Coaler Café. It was late, we were up cramming for Monday exams, and the dim lighting was making it hard to keep our eyes open when Kate’s stomach let out a low grumble loud enough to startle me out of a doze. “Eat something,” I said, “or the owner is going to kick us out for a noise complaint.” Eventually, Kate agreed, and after scouring the menu she decided to order a sweet from the bakery display at the bar. I’d never forget the look on her face at that first bite of pastry, like she was tasting a little bit of lemon bar heaven.
I got to work on the recipe immediately, realizing the sign for what it was: a push to find closure in my past relationship. How could I ever move forward with Grace when I hadn’t owned up to the mistakes I’d made with Kate? At the very least, she deserved an apology for how I’d treated her. That afternoon, I made several batches of lemon bars until one came out looking exactly the recipe online. The kitchen smelled amazing, and I was tempted to steal one for myself.
The sun was playing hide-and-seek when I set off to find Kate. Beams of yellow light flashed in and out of existence as the scattering of clouds overhead shifted with the wind. March in Wisconsin was like a girl in a shoe store—it didn’t know how to make up its mind. Today, the air was brisk, but the warmth of the sun was enough to chase off some of the cold. We’d finally reached that awkward transition between winter and spring. The grounds were covered in half-melted snowbanks and patches of soggy brown grass with puddles the size of small ponds cropping up along the sidewalks where the cement dipped.
Kate wasn’t difficult to locate. We still shared each other’s locations. I wasn’t sure why—maybe she wanted to know where I was so she could avoid running into me—but I hadn’t even thought to change my settings after we broke up. I took up a post outside of Kenworth Hall and waited. Twenty minutes later, students began pouring out of the building. When Kate emerged, my grip tightened around the container of lemon bars.
Seeing her for the first time in several months stirred up a lot of emotions within me, though none were as visceral as the guilt gnawing at my insides. She looked every bit the Kate I remembered, but there was something different in the way she held herself. Our eyes met, and without hesitation, she crossed the courtyard in my direction. As she grew closer, I felt myself tense in anticipation, my mind wandering back to the last time we spoke. The more I thought about it, the more I realized how wrong I’d been for letting things end that way. She might have pulled the plug, but it had been my own careless actions that had doomed our relationship.
“Hello, Kate.”
“Such a formal greeting,” she said tersely, coming to a stop in front of me and crossing her arms over her chest. “To what do I owe the immeasurable pleasure of seeing my ex?”
“I came to give you lemon bars.” I held out the container of carefully baked pastries, watching as confusion swirled in her eyes. “And I came to say that you were right.”
One eyebrow arched. “Feel free to elaborate.”
“After the accident, I changed, and I blamed you for the injury, even though I knew it was wrong. I was so focused on myself that I couldn’t see how much I was hurting you. I’m sorry.”
“I was in love with you, and stupidly hopeful that things would get better. That’s why I held on for so long. Why did you?” I couldn’t help but notice the crack in her voice as she spoke, the way her expression softened at the mention of loving me.
“I didn’t want to lose you, and I didn’t want to break your heart, not after everything you’d sacrificed for me.”
“You stayed with me out of guilt?”
I couldn’t lie to her, not anymore. “Partly, yes, but I also kept hoping that things would get better.”
Kate steadied herself at my words, her shoulders straightening as the confidence crept back into her body. I knew that nothing I said could make up for how I’d treated her, or the way things had ended, but I wanted her to know I regretted it.
“You’re going to find someone who’s willing to put you first. I’m truly sorry that couldn’t be me.”
“I think I already did,” she said, the corner of her lip curving into a blissful smile.
Kate glanced over her shoulder, and that was when I realized someone was waiting for her across the courtyard. There was a woman leaning against the side of Kenworth Hall, one foot kicked back against the ivy-covered stones. She wore an oversized leather jacket and a bold red dress that I knew belonged to Kate. Our eyes met. Her expression was clear, even from more than fifty feet away. Don’t try anything stupid, pretty boy, it screamed.
“You’ve definitely upgraded,” I said, and an unexpected burst of laughter spilled from Kate, who took a step closer and reached for the lemon bars.
“I’d suggest the whole grand gesture thing,” she said, and for a moment, I was utterly lost as to what she meant. Then it clicked.
“You still talk to Bryce, don’t you?”
Her smile was answer enough. “You were the one I dumped, not him.”
Kate gave me a nod goodbye before she headed back across the courtyard. She said something that made the girl in the red dress laugh, and I watched them walk hand-in-hand until they disappeared into the dining hall. The slightest bit of pressure eased from my chest.
“She’s right, you know.”
I whirled around, and there was Lydia, perched on a wooden bench no more than ten feet away from me. I’d seen her around campus here and there, but like all the other players on the women’s team, she’d been dutifully keeping her distance. Slowly, I approached the bench and sat down beside her, my eyes falling over the sketchpad in her lap. She didn’t look up. A rush of wind pulled at the edges of her paper, and a few strands of loose hair whipped around her head. I studied her hands as she worked—one made precise sweeping motions with a short piece of charcoal while the other rubbed at the paper to blur the lines of her drawing. The clouds shifted, a stream of sunshine breaking free and bathing the bench in warmth.
“Right about what?”
Lydia finally looked up at me. “A grand gesture. She’ll forgive you either way, but if you make it special, I’ll forgive you too.”
The revelation came as a complete shock.
“You don’t even realize it, do you?” She rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Grace thinks she’s just as much to blame as you are. If you ask me, you’re both stubborn idiots.”
Grace blamed herself?
“I don’t understand.”
“Yeah, you and me both.”
Lydia’s fingers stilled over the sketch of a woman’s face. There were blurred tears streaming down her sunken cheekbones. The emotion etched within the eyes could not be mistaken for anything other than misery.
“It doesn’t matter if you’re both to blame. What you said was inexcusable, especially after I told you to be careful with her, so you need to be the one to apologize first.”
