Page 35 of Net and Chill

“Nope.”

“Fuck.”

“No fucking. Not yet.”

“Ohana.” I say it into her neck.

“Yes,” she says. “It meansfamily.”

“I want you to be mine. Tommy and Indigo too.”

“We are.”

“Mine were never proud.”

“Of you?” Bridget asks.

“Not of hockey. Academics. All of them. Parents. Brothers. They don’t care. Never did.”

“I’m sorry. I always wondered, but you never wanted to talk about them. Are you in touch with them?”

“Sometimes. Not close. Not like with the Bradshaws. Not like my team. Not like I want with you.”

“We’ll stay in touch.” She sounds sad.

“Not what I mean. I want you with me.” I kiss her neck. She can tell me not to, but I’m doing it.

“That’s something we can talk about, but maybe tomorrow, okay? You should keep resting.”

“Every time I told my goalposts about you I did good. Not for luck. Because I liked talking about you. I loved it.”

I feel her moving. Turning to face me. I get a kiss on the forehead. “I love talking about you too.”

I have so much to say. Fuck. The throbbing. Not again. Fuck.

11

BRIDGET

My phone vibrates with a text.

DAD: Outside the front door.

I get up from the armchair. I’ve been sitting by the bed, watching Craig “The Wall” Bowman sleep. Watching him breathe, for nearly an hour straight this time. He looks so vulnerable, but he seems to be progressing well. I can tell he’s frustrated that he keeps falling asleep, but it’s good for him. Poor guy must be so tired.

My heart hurts. But it’s because it’s so full. There’s so much we need to say toeach other. But I had a call with Coach Barrett this morning, and he told me the Griffins are definitely going to want Craig back in New York as soon as a doctor here clears him to fly. Which should be in six days. The wordsI want you with meuttered when he’s concussed and falling asleep are not exactly a clear indication that he wants me to go back to New York with him.

But I’ve been thinking about it.

It feels like the only option.

All the no strings and loose threads and all of a sudden, everything is tied up and leading to him. Wherever he is. I don’t want to lose myself, but I also don’t think he’ll let that happen.

And now, as I go to Craig’s front door to let my dad in, I’m crying. Because being with Craig would mean leaving my parents and Kenton, and I don’t know how to do that without losing myself. I’m in love enough to want to go with Craig, but I don’t want to let go of everything else.

My dad’s standing on the porch carrying two garment bags, surrounded by one of my dress forms, my wheeled sewing-machine tote, my craft-organizer tote, my good scissors, my travel steamer. He already brought everything from the car so I wouldn’t have to leave the house, and that’s justhow sweet he is, and how am I supposed to leave him and Mom?

His face falls when he sees mine, and he looks so worried. “What happened, honey?”