Page 27 of Heartless As Puck

“Since I came to Chicago. I moved here to attend college.”

He dug his fork into his eggs, the tines squeaking against the porcelain. “Why here? I assume you can study something relevant much closer to home. You come from Colorado, right?”

Now he was fishing.

“I wanted to try somewhere new.” And that was all I was prepared to say on the matter.

“Fair enough. When I joined the NHL, I was willing to go to any team that would have me.”

His reference to hockey provided me with a welcome distraction.

“How was training yesterday?” I asked.

He pulled a face. “The team is a mess, but at least the environment is better than it was.”

“How are the new players settling in?”

He swallowed a mouthful before answering. “They all seem good enough. The transfers are decent, but they don’t know how to fit into the team dynamic. The rookies are struggling to find their footing too, but at least they’re getting better treatment than they would have previously.”

“True.”

We continued making awkward small talk while we ate, neither of us addressing the elephant in the room. When I finished, I stacked my bowl in the dishwasher and cleaned the pot, pan, and blender. Austin protested, but I insisted on doing it. I needed to keep busy and remember my place in this arrangement. If I let him run around after me, I’d get my emotions all mixed up.

Once that was done and I’d tidied up after Austin too, we both hovered, uncertain how to proceed. Finally, Austin spoke.

“Do I need to drive myself to the stadium today?” he asked, keeping his voice free of inflection. His face didn’t give away his thoughts either, and when he was like this, I could understand why some of the team’s fans had dubbed him “Heartless Harris.” He could come across as being quite cold.

I still didn’t like the moniker.

“I’ll drive you.” After all, I hadn’t decided what I was going to do about my job yet, so I may as well keep doing it until I did.

“Thank you.”

“No problem. Meet back here in five?”

“Sure.”

I returned to my room, brushed my teeth, checked my hair, and collected my gear for class. I had a lab this morning and we’d been warned that we’d been undertaking a practical exercise with volunteer adults who had speech fluency problems.

Some of my classmates found this intimidating, but I loved meeting others with speech disorders. It made me feel like part of something bigger, and nothing made me happier than being able to help them in whatever small way.

I headed downstairs. Austin was waiting near the garage, and he opened the door and went in when he saw me coming. I dumped my bag onto the passenger seat while he got into the back.

As I reversed out onto the road, he asked, “Are you going to college today?”

“Yes.”

“Cool.” He was quiet for a moment, then added, “I feel like shit for not knowing about that. I’m sorry for being so self-centered.”

His words caught me off guard, and I frowned as I changed gears and eased forward.

“There’s no need to apologize,” I told him. “It’s not as if I’ve ever made a point of discussing it with you. We’ve always had a professional relationship, and I’m good with that.”

It was when he’d wanted to stretch the bounds of our professional relationship that I’d gotten mad with him, after all.

“Hmm.” He didn’t say more, but his silence was brooding.

“Do you know who your first preseason game is against?” I asked, hoping to jolt him out of his introspection.