Page 109 of What We Knew Then
“I have no idea.” I close my laptop and press the heels of my hands in my eyes. “I just wish there was something I could do. My dad thinks this is repeat behavior. But it’s not.”
“Do you think if the accident in Ohio hadn’t happened, your dad would’ve reacted differently?” Brinn uses the word accident with caution. I didn’t tell her the whole story, but definitely alluded to the fact that it’s not even close to what everyone thought happened.
This isn’t the first time I’ve thought of this. Yes, it’s partly the fact that this is me dating one of his teammates, but my dad has always been fair. If this was Troy or Matty, I don’t see a world where he comes down this hard.
I tilt my head, resting my chin on one of my hands. “Maybe? But Lane isn’t going to tell him. And it’s not my story to tell.”
“Damn. Wish there was someone else. But Lane definitely knows how to keep a secret.”
He does know how to keep a secret.
Then there’s a lightbulb. The one I’ve been hoping would come for days. Something to help.
There’s only one other person who knows this story.
Brinn gestures a circle with her hand. “I canseethe wheels turning. Care to share with the class?”
“Not yet. I don’t know if it’s anything. But… I have to try.”
If anything, the potential plan could be enough of a distraction to get me through the next few days. If it works, I might be able to get Lane back on the ice sooner than planned.
Maybe life isn’t about getting everything right. Maybe it’s just about getting the right things right.
Lane feels like one of them.
Chapter 65
LANE
Sittinginthepressbox is damn near torture. I’m wearing team gear but Coach didn’t even have me warm up. That means that even if three players broke their legs and they needed to call on me, he wouldn’t.
It’s too fucking quiet. On the ice, everything is noise—skates carving, sticks cracking, the dull thud of bodies hitting the glass. Here it’s muffled, like I’m miles away.
I sit forward in the folding chair, elbows on my knees, watching my team struggle through another broken shift.
Minnesota clears the zone again. We dump it right back. No structure. No rhythm.
Everything is off.
One of the assistants next to me scribbles something on a lineup sheet. No one talks to me. Not that I blame them. This shit show of a game is my fault. Our team is talented, but we’ve been in such a groove with me in the lineup, it’s a tough loss to make up for.
It should make me feel better, knowing that I was making such a positive impact, but it one hundred percent makes me feel worse.
Healthy scratch. The phrase keeps circling in my head.
Leo misses a pass at the blue line and the puck slides out of the zone again. He slams his stick against the boards and I swear I can feel it in my chest.
It’s the second period and we’re still down by one. Not sure we’ve even had more than five shots on goal at this point. Brutal.
Minnesota scores again and their crowd explodes. 2–0. I lean back in the chair and drag a hand over my face.
Hockey is all about timing. You spend an entire season learning where the other guy is going to be before he even gets there. Take one piece out and the whole thing shifts.
Right now the whole thing looks… crooked.
The third period starts and the guys come out pressing. Too hard. We turn the puck over twice in the neutral zone. Minnesota capitalizes on the second one.
3–0.
