Page 20 of Blind Spot
Heath opened on my second knock. He wore the hotel’s terry robe over sweats.
“What’s up, Varga?”
“You gonna invite me in?”
“Of course.” He stepped back and went to the bed. He left the door for me to close.
“Where’s Kieran?”
“At the rink with Marco, working on his hip. He’ll be better for the game tonight.”
“Marco’s doing the foam roller thing?”
“Marco is doing the foam roller thing. He’s probably swearing, too.”
“Marco swears at everyone. He swears at me in the trainers’ room in Italian. It’s beautiful.”
I closed the door but didn’t throw the deadbolt. The room was warm with the blinds half-cracked, letting in a small stripe of daylight. The book from the plane was on the nightstand.
I sat in the armchair by the window and put my elbows on my knees.
“You good?” Heath asked.
“Yeah.”
“I don’t believe it. Were you okay with what happened at the skate?”
“Fine. Markel’s putting Trier on the second pair tonight.”
“I know, I was there to hear him say that.”
“I’m processing it out loud,” I said. “Let me have my moment.”
“Granted.”
“Trier has been bad in the neutral zone.”
“I can’t argue with you there.”
“He’s going to give it away in the first period and look at me about it. He will make eye contact with me, Heath.”
“He’s not going to make eye contact with you.”
“He makes eye contact with me when he turns it over. I think it’s a love language. He’s in love with me in a Bohemian way. I’ve accepted it.”
“You’ve accepted his love?”
“One of us has to be the bigger man. I carry the burden.”
“You bear the weight.”
“What’s Kieran reading, other than fish books?”
“Something with a woman on the cover in a ball gown.”
“A woman?”
“Yes, a woman. There’s a man too, but he’s behind her, and his chest is bare.”
