And then he's gone, and we begin to wait all over again.
Part Two
(We Waited Until the Wedding)
Chapter Eleven: Jamie
(I Slept in My Own Bed)
Adecade ago, if anyone had told me how well Taylor McKeon and I would work together one day, I would've rolled my eyes. If anyone had told me we'd have a decent chance of becoming friends, I would've laughed and told them to fuck all the way off. Now, as my first season of coaching begins with him at my side, both are true. I'm breathing more easily than I have since the night my playing career ended.
During the first week of October, I stop in one of the empty hallways of our practice facility and lean against the wall with my phone in my hand.
I keep waiting for him to be a dick to me, but maybe we'll actually make it to opening night without an argument worthy of a headline or two
It's early morning for Mateo, but it means the school day hasn't started, and I get a quick response.You have less than a week to go. And I could do without any more McKeon/Sinclair headlines tbh.
Well when you putit that way
Are you still nervous?
You know I am. Are you still watching the game at Kai's?
You know I am. And Sophie said she'd come with me.
That makes me feel better and worse, knowing they'll be together while I'm so far away. And Harper will be with her soccer team, their season already underway and going well, so the loneliness hits hard. The good news is that I rarely have time to sit with any feeling long enough to be bothered by it. Coaching in the NHL is a full-time job on top of a full-time job.
Let me know how I look in my suit
I can already tell you how pretty you'll be in your suit.
My smile comes easily, or maybe it's been there since the first message from him. I use old PR skills to hide it when footsteps round the corner, and tuck my phone into my pocket.
"Ah, here you are. I was wondering whether you'd finally realized there are fewer groupies for middle-aged coaches than for 20something phenoms," Taylor huffs. "But seeing that look on your face? I'm guessing you're not looking for groupies at all."
I scoff, also a skill picked up from a press conference or several. "There's no look on my face."
"And your phone?"
"I have one, yes. Even use it occasionally to keep in touch with my daughter and my friends and a few old teammates who'd still love the opportunity to kick your ass."
"Somehow I don't think your conversation was aboutmyass," he says. "But whatever. I don't care who you're fucking. Never did, except for how I could use it to get under your skin."
We're on the same team now, and several of his records have been mine for a while, so I know he has no reason to mess with my head. I don't point out how rarely it worked even then, all those years ago when I wanted hockey more than I wanted anyone. I don't pointout that it could work now, if I weren't so intent on making sure I can love two things at once. Our friendship may come sooner than expected, but I won't tell him about Mateo. I can't.
That friendship matters more.
That friendshipismore.
We win our first two games. We lose the third. We start a road trip and win the fourth. Taylor and I have great things to say about the team. The team has great things to say about us. Mateo tells me I'm just as pretty as he'd imagined I would be. I imagine him in the boxer briefs he wore on prom night.
My parents are proud of me again, and I hate how much I care. Harper and Kai remain my north stars, even while they shine in a busy, busy sky.
I'd say I'm getting settled in New Jersey, but that's not entirely accurate. I'm traveling with the team, which makes hotel rooms home as much as the small house I've rented. When we have a homestand, my early mornings and late nights are spent on the ice, or close enough to it. There's little time for me to want someone in my bed, no matter how often Taylor drops hints about all the women in his. I don't have a spare minute to miss Mateo, but he's on my mind every day. I feel like it's all those years ago when I wanted to pretend that wasn't true.
I have trouble falling asleep after a tough overtime loss.I miss you
He juggles conferences and a soccer tournament and his second year of teaching AP English.I miss you too.