Page 40 of Crease Collision

Helvete. I will never learn American slang.

By Saturday, the hotel room becomes intolerable, and I am sick of going for walks and playing tourist. He wants me to meet people, so I find a club online and go. I don’t want to meet anyone, but I am tired of being alone.

When I arrive, I can hear the music from the sidewalk. The space inside is packed with people shouting to be heard. Going out alone has always made me nervous, so I get a drink and make the rounds. I am surprised to enjoy it, in a way. Under the flashing lights, I dance with a beautiful woman, but that is all it is.

Then a man asks me, and we push our way into the crowd. His name is David. He looks something like Kai, but his eyes are not deep blue. They do not make me feel special the way Kai’s do when he forgets to guard them.

After the music ends, we get drinks. It is not long until he leans in and invites me to his apartment. I am not interested, which I have to admit makes me sad. I hadn’t intended to go with anyone else, but I think part of me hoped I could at least want someone else.

Now I know that I cannot. There is only one man I need right now.

I tell David goodbye and walk home alone. For the first time since Kai left, I let myself wonder what will happen if he does not want to see me again. I get no answer, only a lonely walk and thoughts of a man in Maine who does not know how to say what he means.

The next morning, I follow my new ritual and look for messages before making coffee. Nothing. That is becoming its own ritual.

One day, my agent calls and tells me the Fury have sent him my contract. He reminds me it is a much better deal than most rookies get.

I go to Newark the next day and sign it. Meeting the people behind the summer’s video calls is fun, and after everyone says hello, the head coach shows me around the practice facility. Only a year old, it is the finest one I have ever been in.

I cannot stop myself from wondering what Kai would say if he were here. I am having the best day since our swimming date, and I wish I could share it with him.

What a fool I was not to tell him what I do. It seems too important to say over uneasy texts because if we are together, I can make sure it doesn’t scare him. I will tell him the day he gets home.

Before I leave, the human resources director gives me a folder of paperwork to complete before camp. I read through it back at the hotel, including the team schedule. Our first game is only a week after training camp, at home, against the New York Condors.

That brings me to a stop. Kai has a Condors T-shirt that shows off his muscles. I peeled it off him one night. Now, I imagine him wearing it in Maine, thinking of me the way he said he would.

I believe it because, with Kai, believing is most of what I have.

Over the next few days, I rent an apartment in Chelsea and have furniture delivered. It will be an excellent home, and though it is not as nice as Kai’s condo, I am sure he will approve. After I unpack, I take a beer to the recliner and imagine how Kai will look at me here when he comes back.

If he comes back. That thought sends me for another beer.

Two mornings before I am to report for camp, I find messages waiting on my phone.

KAI: Looks like I won’t be back until you’re out of town. Things will be hard with you starting your new job and my season beginning. It’ll take some work finding a time to get together, but I hope we can.

He had sent a second text an hour after the first.

KAI: How are things going? Did you find a place to live? I shouldn’t assume you want to see me. I bet you’ve had to fight off the boys with a hockey stick. You’ve met someone special, right? Hope we can still be friends.

Jävlar! Kai has dangled me on a rope for weeks and finally sends a message sounding like he wants to see me. An hour later, he calls us friends and hands me to another man. My chest is so tight I cannot yell, so I pound the mattress with my fists until I am worn out. Then I lean back and stare at the ceiling until my growling stomach forces me out of bed and into the kitchen.

My hands work on automatic while I boil an egg and make coffee. Slicing cheese, I push too hard, and the knife nearly finds my palm instead. I set it down and look at it. My hands do not slip. This is not a thing that happens to me.

Since when am I like this?

I take a moment, but the crispbread breaks under the butter knife anyway, leaving me with two halves of something that was whole a moment ago.

This is what Kai is doing to me, one small precise thing at a time.

Idiot.

I do not know who deserves the label more, him or me. Maybe both of us.

Ta dig en bensträckare. Mamma’s voice comes through as if she were in the room telling me to take a leg stretcher. It worked when I was a kid, so I may as well try it. Leaving everything on the table, I go look out the window.

This is ridiculous, I tell the Hudson River in the distance. Kai does not owe me anything. He said he would be in touch, and he has been. Occasionally.