The last month since New Year's Eve has been… not great. I'm absorbing new information, like how the team dynamic works, and where I fit in that, both on the ice and off. How the coach runs hot and cold. Well, mostly cold. He is not happy with all the local attention I'm getting for 'coming home'. He's not a Mainer and he doesn't get the extreme pride the state has in local players, and my family in particular. Also although he isn't as openly hostile to me as Landry was, he's not big on positive reinforcement. I'm already struggling with my performance and a wounded ego and he's not helping. Every time I miss a pass or screw up one of the new plays I'm still learning, he makes comments like "This shouldn't be so hard, Garrison" or "Earn that paycheck kid."
I’ve been pulling my weight, mostly, during games. No goal so far but five assists. Has he mentioned it? Nope. But I’m not special. He’s bitchy with all the players. Abbott gets it harder than anyone, making it clear he resents the fact Abbott gets so much attention because he’s a fan favorite. “It’s a team sport, and good players never forgets that.’ And he glares at Abbott when he says that. Abbott doesn’t let the coach’s horrible coaching style affect him and he’s trying really hard to boost morale in the locker room but everyone is kind of like a kicked puppy. I swear that’s why the team is hot and cold, winning a game seven to four but then turning around and losing the next one three nothing.
I've been a giant chicken and told my family not to come to my home games yet. I just wasn't in the headspace to add their expectations onto my mental load. I called Uncle Luc and confided this in him. He bounced around to a couple teams when he was playing so I thought maybe he would get this feeling I was having. He said he did understand and he would make sure the family didn’t come until I said I was okay with it.
We played last night and won, but only after a shoot-out, which means the other team got points too. It’s a dirty win, not a clean one. Not one we celebrate even if we’re relieved by it, which I was. The last thing I needed was the media murmuring about how the Barons always lost when I was on the team, and now the Riptide were too. Because the Barons had won three of the last five games they’d played. Luckily they also played last night and lost, badly. Nine to nothing. So that quelled any rumblings the media might have been looking to start.
Being back in Maine has been an adjustment I wasn’t expecting. After all, it’s my home state. But it’s so weird that this is actually home again, full-time. And I’ve never lived in Portland so it’s not familiar but it's fucking amazing. I have always loved being a Mainer and to play for the first professional team they’ve ever had? It’s a fucking gift.
I'm… well not happy exactly because the stress is still too heavy for a word like that, but I'm on the road to happy. At least career-wise. On a personal level, something hasn't been sitting right since my last conversation with Mac. Since our good-bye. I've been thinking about her a lot and trying to figure out an excuse to reach out again.
Last night, after the game, I hitched a ride home with Abbott and Declan, because I was still crashing in their guest room, and I laid on the bed brainstorming the perfect message to slide back into her texts with. But I fell asleep with my phone on my chest debating what to say. And then, because it hadn't been charging all night, I had four percent battery when I woke up and had to leave it charging at home when I went to practice. Abbott and I carpooled because my car was still in Silver Bay. So while Abbott does some PR thing with the team's media coordinator, I'm wandering the streets of the Old Port, getting a feel for whether I want to live in the area. It’s a really nice area, and I could easily afford to buy a place here, even if I didn’t sell the loft in Brooklyn right away. But I’m also oddly drawn to the small town Abbott lives in. It has Silver Bay vibes but with an ocean. But I wasn’t Abbott. I wasn’t settled down. If I picked a house in Ocean Pines, would it just make me more aware I was perpetually single? Something that didn’t bother me before, but I’d been thinking about a lot since my brief sexcapade with Mac.
I stop for a latte at the Loose Moose, a local beanery, and spend a good half hour strolling around the area. I even noted some for sale signs on condo buildings. The streets in this part of town are lined with trendy stores, local brewhouses, and upscale seafood joints. It's a vibe—a good one—but I don't know if it's my vibe. I stop to look in the window of a hippie store called Mexicali Blues. I’m looking at the vibrant cotton clothing in the window. There’s a pretty top with bell sleeves that reminds me of Mac because it’s got a bright orange and pink pattern to it that reminds me of the shower cap she wore that first day after I’d slept over.
I'm in the process of promising myself to put texting her at the top of my To Do list when I get back to Abbott's when I turn the corner and see a guy sitting on the brick sidewalk. He's wearing a tattered coat, has a torn sleeping bag over his legs, and a mangy-looking mutt curled up beside him. He sees me and tucks in his legs so I can pass, but I don't. I look down at the cup, a paper one from the same coffee shop I just got my latte. It's got about forty cents in it. He doesn't ask me for money though.
The dog blinks up at me with the saddest damn eyes I’ve ever seen, human or animal. I also note I can see the dog’s ribs. The man notices me eyeing the dog and grabs hold of its stained purple collar, gently but possessively. “I feed him. And I don’t let him freeze.”
“Yeah, okay,” I say with a small nod. “Want some help doing that?”
“If you can spare some change, yeah. It would help thanks,” the guy says, loosening his hold on the lab mix who drops his head on his owner’s thigh.
I pull my wallet out of my back pocket. I wish I carried more cash. I only have a twenty. I bend over and stuff it in his cup. “You gonna be here a while?”
"Why?" the guy asks and immediately takes the twenty, pulls it out of his cup, and stuffs it in the pocket of his dirty coat. Our eyes meet for the first time, and I realize this man is probably only about my age. He just looks older because of the dirt and the creases on his brow.
"I wanted to go get more cash for you," I tell him. He nods hesitantly like he can't believe me. I give him a smile. "Look, I swear I'm being honest here. Do you need anything else?"
"A sandwich or something would be cool," he admits. "Even with money, I get kicked out of places a lot before I can even pay for anything."
Shit. I nod. “Be right back.”
I have no idea where I’m going but I head down a nearby side street with a bunch of colorful awnings. I find a deli and head inside and order a bowl of clam chowder and a bowl of chicken corn chowder and two sandwiches, one roast beef and one stuffed with grilled veggies and goat cheese. As I’m waiting for the order I wander over to the plate glass window and spot an ATM sign sticking off a building kitty-corner to here. It’s across from a pet store, which is fantastic luck.
“I’ll be back for the order in five minutes,” I tell the woman behind the counter who is making my first sandwich. “Is that cool?”
“No problem,” she mutters, not even looking up.
I head outside, pull a hundred out of the cash machine, and then dodge a pick-up truck as I cross the street and head into the pet store. It’s bougie and overpriced, but whatever. I have the money to blow. I grab a couple tins of dog food, knowing more than that will make it a bitch for him to carry, and three bags of organic treats. I also grab a coat I think will fit the dog.
When I get back to the deli I march right over to where I can see my order waiting in a big paper bag on the counter. I’m so focused on getting it and getting back to the dude, I turn and bump into another customer waiting for her order. I smell her before I can focus on her. She smells like decadent, expensive French bubble bath.
“Mac,” I say the name before my eyes fully focus on her pretty face.
She’s staring at me, her blue eyes wide and the pink in her cheeks from the cold outdoors glowing. Or maybe it’s a blush from the shock of coming face-to-face with me unexpectedly. “Con… ner?” She says my name in two different chunks like she’s sure she’s imagining me and is reluctant to voice it.
“Yeah. Hey! I’ve been meaning to text you.” I know the second I say it that it sounds like a line. A terrible, classless line right out of the Man Whore textbook. “I mean, no. I mean, not like that.”
She raises one of her eyebrows and the flicker of a smile that I thought I saw dance on her perfect mouth is definitely not there now. “How are you?”
“Good. You?” I ask.
“Fine. Good.” Her eyes move from mine to the door and back to me.
I notice she's wearing makeup. Just some mascara and maybe something on her face that makes her skin kind of dewy, a bit shimmery, and smooth. I can barely see the beauty mark she has on her left temple but not in a bad way. She looks natural but, like, glossy. Like a good TikTok filter.
“What are you doing here?” we ask each other at the exact same time.
“The arena is just a few blocks away.” I point as if I’m giving her directions. “I just finished practice and was checking out the area for potential housing.”
“How is it going with the new team?” she asks and then grows sheepish. “I haven’t had a chance to watch a game but I’ve Googled scores and you guys seem to be doing okay.”
“Yeah, but obviously we want better than okay,” I reply, and she nods in understanding. I’m sure her dad was the same way. Ultimately all any hockey player wants is their name on that famous silver Cup and an ‘okay’ season isn’t going to get them there. “And look at you Googling! If only you’d picked up that trick before telling Trash Panda you thought I played for Colorado.”
She laughs. The sound warms my insides. “Bonus points for calling him one of my many TP nicknames. But never forget, you could have woken me up that night and explained yourself, in detail, instead of ghosting me like a bad puck bunny.”
Was that a burn or a rib? Feels like a bit of both.
“I’ve never been with a bad puck bunny,” I start and she cuts me off before I can finish the sentence.
"Right, of course. I'm sure they all bring their A-game for Conner Garrison. The crown prince of hockey," Mac says, and okay, so that definitely feels like a burn. "Do they curtsey before or after orgasms? I didn't do either. Will I be banned to the dungeon?'
"With that attitude, yeah," I quip back because I'm stung. Her whole attitude is like a bunch of bees swarming my ego, stinging it relentlessly. "And I was going to say I've never been with a bad puck bunny because I've never been with a puck bunny. Look, maybe not waking you up was the wrong move, but I didn't mean it to be. And I really have been meaning to call you. I don't even have my cell phone on me right now. I swear you've been on my mind."
She stares at me, but thankfully I can see her expression start to soften. Her eyes move from my face to the door. The lady behind the counter calls out her order. A hazelnut hot chocolate. I step aside, holding my giant bag of food so she can grab the cup, which I notice is a real one, not a takeaway cup. When she turns back to me she pauses for a lengthy exhale and then she blinks slowly and locks eyes with me again. “Look, I’m sorry for being so… bitey. I’m actually… I have a lot going on today and I really don’t have time to unpack us.”
“Unpack us?” I repeat.
She nods. "What we did. What we do next. All of that. Look, if it was just a one-night stand… two-night stand, or whatever, that's fine. I am a big girl and I don't expect much from life. And definitely not from men."
Ouch. It’s hard not to take that personally, but I try not to. I think of the food in my hand and the guy it’s for and remember, Mac was that guy. When she was twelve. A baby. I have no idea the types of trauma she endured back then, but I’m sure it all left some scars. She has a right to feel however she is feeling. I just have to make it clear what I’m feeling. So… I will. As soon as I figure that out. “I never said it was a two-night stand. Honestly, I don’t know what it was, but I know I want to find out. Which is why I was going to call you. I was going to ask you out on a date. Much more charismatically than blurting it out in a deli.”
“Out? On a date?”
Her confusion is actually cute. “Yeah. A real one. Maybe even with wooing.”
“Wooing,” she repeats back to me as her eyes move from mine to the door again, and it reminds me that I have to get this food to the dude. Why is she here again? Did she say?
“I think we both have somewhere to be right now so I’ll let you go,” I tell her. “But I’ll call you. Okay?”
“O… Kay,” There she is, so stunned she’s splitting up words again.
I lean in, using my free hand to touch her upper arm so she doesn’t bolt on me, and I lightly press my lips to her cheek. “I’ll text you tonight. I promise. In fact, as the crown prince of hockey, I swear on my family jewels.”
Her mouth, painted a soft deep coral color I note, splits in a smile. I turn away from her, which doesn’t feel natural but has to be done. I head out the door, thanking a guy coming in who is holding it open for me, and force myself not to look back at her. I find the guy and his dog right where I left them. He looks genuinely shocked I came back.
I spend the next ten minutes giving him the food and the dog food and the jacket for his dog. He tells me his name is Josh and the dog is, unironically, named Lucky. Finally, I hand him a hundred bucks and ask him if there's anything else I can do. "Are you kidding me? You're fucking Santa Claus dude," he tells me, giving me a smile with teeth that need a good brushing. "This is more than anyone has done for me all year. I can rent a room for a couple days with this money in this boarding house I know. It's not great but it's warm and dry and takes dogs and has hot water for a shower."
Jesus, all the things he’s listing as a treat, are things that have been in my life, without even thinking about it, my entire existence. I nod and jerk my thumb back toward the arena. “I just started work over that way and am in the area a lot now… so like maybe I’ll see you again.”
“I hope so. And thanks. Really, like thanks.”
I pat Lucky's head and nod then turn to walk away, which feels kind of shitty despite his kind words. Because there's got to be more I can do. I make it to the corner and shift my weight from foot to foot anxiously as I wait for the light to change. I shoot a look over my shoulder to find Josh opening a tin of the dog food and dumping it into a metal bowl he must have pulled out of his old backpack.
But then I see something else further down the street, which slopes up. Walking side-by-side is Mac and a man I’ve never seen before. She’s smiling up at him, looking beautiful and happy, and he’s talking animatedly. He’s older than me. Older than her. He’s holding a takeaway cup with the logo of the deli we were just in.
Was she waiting there for him? For a date with him? It looks like a date. He pulls out a key and turns to the building and I realize he's opening a door to… his apartment? That's the first leap my brain takes and it causes me to feel like I've thrown myself onto jagged glass. Which is… not great. In fact, it sucks.
I watch him hold the door open for her and she disappears inside. Someone bustles by me into the crosswalk because the light has changed and is currently about to change again, so I wrench my eyes from the sight of Mac and her mystery dude and walk away.
Because what the fuck else can I do?