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“Or I’ll come back and get it sometime,” I wink at him and he chuckles and rolls his eyes. I look at Fynn, and he is looking at us quizzically. Was it my statement or the response from Nandy that has his curiosity piqued?
I pause at the door. Nandy’s hand is on the knob, also frozen in motion. Something to be said. Neither of us sure what. I start to ask for assurance that nobody will ever know about my panic attack, but I don’t think I need to ask. He knows. The pitcher of water and glass by the bed and ibuprofen for my headache…that told me he has some experience with this.
“I’m not sure I ever said, but the concert was incredible.”
Nandy smiles, dips his head in a show of bashfulness. “Which one?”
I smile. The elevator concert may have been even better… “I’m honored to have had two.”
“Anytime you want to come to a show, let me know. You know where to find me.”
I nod. “Likewise. Any game, any time.” Then it hits me. Nandy didn’t stay for the game in Calgary. “Have you seen a game? A full game in person?”
He shrugs. “I’ve paused at a few on TV—”
“You need to experience a game in person. You say when and I’ll make that happen. Of course, let’s give it a few games so you can actually see me play.”
Nandy furrows his brow. “They’ll pull you from a game?”
“For missing practice like this, yeah.”
“But it wasn’t your fault.”
“Being here, traveling in such bad weather…not…well, yeah, this is my fault.”
My phone dings with the confirmation that my car is downstairs. I exhale. Nandy eyes me up and down.
“Well, it seems you got what you came for.”
I eye him.
“You got into my pants.” He winks and smiles. That full-on Nandy smile that fills his gold eyes with sparkles. My stomach flips and I return his smile.
Chapter ten
“You aren’t going to let me play?”
What the fuck! I toss my hat onto the couch in Brady’s office. I knew they’d hold me out for one game, but three! Fuck! Fuck, fuck!
I glance at Davey, and he gives me a small shake of the head. A let it go sign. He is the only one who knows where I was. Well, he figured it out when he found out I was stuck in Chicago. It didn’t take stellar detective work for him to realize why I was in Chicago.
Everyone assumes I was there chasing a piece of ass. Certainly not the piece of ass anyone would expect. Dammit, yes, that was true at the beginning…but, fuck, fuck, fuck.
Three games.
Davey doesn’t know the reality of what happened. Nobody knows about my panic attacks. Nobody ever will.
The league has assistance programs now to help with such things. A lot of players take advantage of them. It’s a no questions asked type of thing. And nobody needs to know any details. But you miss games for it. And they announce that’s why you are missing games. I can’t have that. I can’t have my father know that. I can’t…
I run my hands through my hair, they are shaking. But I make my way through the corridors and to the locker room to dress for our morning shakeout skate. I’m still allowed to practice—required to practice.
And I want to. The ice is still my refuge. Sometimes I think I like practice more than games. I like the structure. The repetition. Some would call it monotonous. But it centers me. Calms me. Keeps me grounded when the world around me turns to chaos.
I’m slipping though. Most of the time I can keep that chaos away from others around me. I can keep them from seeing it. Lately though…
“Hope she was worth it?” Shaker quips as he strolls past me out of the dressing room. Little shit. He has no fucking idea. And I am not in the mood to deal with his bullshit taunting.
“Well, it benefits you, doesn’t it? So I’d be careful how much you complain.”
