IT’S ALMOST FIVE ON A THURSDAY, AND I CAN TELL EVERYONE IN THIS MEETING IS DYING TO HIT THE PUB MYSELF INCLUDED. It’sbeenalongweek,andIcoulduseadrinktounwind
I am excited to see Grandpa, but this isn’t an ordinary trip. It’s his eightieth birthday party, and everyone who means somethingtohimwillbethere Iwon’tbeabletoavoidseeingthemanIcan’textricatefrommyheart
“You’dbettercancelyourplans PacoMoraleshasmadehismove” Isitstraighter inmychair.Pacois myofficenemesis.Ever sinceIjoinedthecompanyfiveyears ago,as thedirector of sales for EMEA, he’s made itclear I’mnotwelcome. He ate his heartoutwhenImade VPbefore he did. And now we’re competingforCEO,thankstoourcurrentleader’supcomingretirement “Whatdidthatweaseldonow?”
Asharptuginmychestmakesithardtobreathe It’sbeentenyearssinceIlastsawLeo,andmyheartstillbleedsforhim I know first loves oftenleave a permanent mark, but piningfor Leo after this longis ridiculous, especiallywhenthere’s no chanceofahappilyeverafterforus.Hemadethatloudandclear.
IN THE WEEKLEADING UP TO MR O’BRIEN’S EIGHTIETH BIRTHDAY PARTY, I WAS TENSE AS HELL THE PROSPECT OF SEEING ELLIE againaftertenyearsofnocontactdidmyheadin.Afterhighschoolgraduation,shewenttostudyinLondon,andIwasdrafted toplayfortheMiamiLions.AndevenwhenMr.O’BrienbroughtmebacktoBostontoplayfortheZodiacs,whenshecameto visit,ourpathsnevercrossed
It’s no surprise that my body feels like a marble statue when I enter the crowded ballroomof his mansion. Memories assaultme,goodandterrible,andmypulsespeedsup Itakeadeepbreath,tryingtogetmyemotionsincheck IfIcancontrol themontheice,Icancontrolthemheretoo.
The first personI see is Viktor Andersen, one of mybest friends, dressed ina perfectlyfitted tuxedo He looks like a fuckingmodelreadyforthecatwalk.
The Norwegian D-man smiles broadly and raises his whiskey glass. ”Wisey in the house!” He speaks loudly, and our nearbyteammatesraisetheirglassesinresponse Icrackasmile.“Wereyouwaitingforme?”
IletViktororderourdrinksandchecktheperimeter Ihaven’tbeenhereinmanyyears,buttheballroomisasostentatious asIremember.Golddetailseverywherecontrastwiththeoff-whitewalls.Butit’sthehighceilingthat’smostimpressive.Oil paintings of Zodiac hockey players in action adorn the ceiling, in a style similar to the frescos in the Sistine Chapel. The paintingsaregaudy,buttheygowiththerestoftheroom.JustlikeeveryothernookinMr.O’Brien’splace,thisroomisfilled withmemories.Mychesthurts.
“She’snothere,”Viktorsays IjerkslightlywhereIstand.“What?”Iglanceathim,tryingtohidemyreaction. “Elliedidn’tcome”Hehandsmeaglassofwhiskey Iclenchmyjaw.Viktor is the onlypersonwhoknows whathappenedbetweenEllie andme tenyears ago.Hell,he was there.
IT’S BEEN A COUPLE HOURS SINCE I ARRIVED AT THE PARTY WE JUST FINISHED DINNER, AND I’M DRUNKER THAN I PLANNED A bandissettinguponthestage,andassoonastheykickoff,I’mheadingout.
Everyone at our table is toasted except for Viktor, eventhoughhe drankas muchas I did He has a hightolerance for alcohol, whichhe takes full advantage of. I’mchattingwithhimand DeaconPrice, our hotshotforward, whenMr. O’Brien walksuptoourtable.
Iwatchhimwalkaway,andheseemsfine.I’mstillworriedthough.He’sintopshapeforsomeonehisage,buthe is eighty, andIcan’tsayhehasastress-freelife
He steps onto the stage and walks behind the mic. Before he speaks, his gaze roams the ballroomas ifhe’s lookingfor someone.Hefocusesonanemptychairatatableupfront histable andfrowns.That’sprobablyEllie’schair.Istillcan’t believeshedidn’tcome.
I USED TO BELIEVE NOTHING COULD PENETRATE MY BARRIERS. I LEARNED TO CONTROL MY EMOTIONS FROM AN EARLY AGE. BEING the bestgoalie inthe league isn’tonlyaboutquickreflexes That’s maybe fiftypercentofthe makeup ofa greatgoaltender Havingamindofsteelistheotherhalf.
There’sanoldmaninadarktailoredsuitandwearingahatstandingnexttoher.Whenheremoveshishat,myeyeswiden. That’sJohnO’Brien,theowneroftheBostonZodiacs Iswallowthelumpinmythroat He’snotonlytheownerofoneofthe bestpro hockeyteams inthe country he also owns the CillianO’BrienHockeyAcademy, a prestigious teamdevelopment programtowhichthemostpromisingtalentinhockeyall over theworldhopestogetaspot.Ninety-eightpercentofplayers whocompletetheprogramaredraftedintotheNHL Iwasacceptedlastmonth,andI’mslatedtostartinacoupleweeks,but myfutureisuncertainnow.AuntLorrainelivesinasmalltowninFlorida,andtheprogramishereinBoston.Plus,there’sthe matterofpayingforit Thetuitionmoneymyparentssavedwasusedtocovertheirfuneralexpenses
Myrudequestiondoesn’tseemtobotherhimthough “Mr. O’Brien contacted me yesterday and told me you applied for his hockey training program, Leo,” Aunt Lorraine replies
Reliefwashesover her face,remindingmeshe’snotmucholder thanme.Whenever shecametovisituswhilewewere growingup, people assumed she was myolder sister. Now we’re inthe same boat. She became anorphanwhenshe was eighteen,losingbothparentstoillnesseswithinthespanofafewmonths.I’maweekshyofturningeighteen. “Iknow.That’swhyIreachedouttohim.”Shewipesthemoisturefromthecornersofhereyes.“DoyouthinkJackwillbe okay?”
THE TWO DAYS AFTER THE FUNERAL WENT BY IN A BLUR I BARELY HAD TIME TO FEEL THE PAIN AUNT LORRAINE AND I SPENT thosedayssortingthroughmyparents’stuff.Wesoldmostofthefurnitureanddonatedwhatwasleft.Itwasn’tlikeJackandI hadalottobeginwith.Inmytrunk,Ihaveonlypersonalbelongingsandclothing.
Thelandlordagreedtoreturnmyparents’deposit,eventhoughtherewerestillthreemonthsleftonthelease Ialwaysliked him, and I’mgrateful he didn’tprove to be anasshole. The moneyisn’tmuch, butit’s better thanstartingwithnothing. Aunt Lorrainesaidshe’dsendsomemoneytohelpout,butshe’s arecentcollegegraduate,andher entry-level jobatamarketing firmdoesn’tpaymuch.
Ireturnmyattentiontothestreetjustintimetoavoidrunningoveragirlwithflamingredhairwhowasrunningacrossit I slamonthebrakes,makingthetiresscreech.Thesmellofburningrubberreachesmynosealmostimmediately.Shejumpsback andstaresatmewithwideeyes
Hershocklastsonlyacouplebeatsbeforeshenarrowshergaze.“Whatthefuckiswrongwithyou?” She has all the rightinthe world to yell atme, butIstill need to deal withJack’s situation. Igetoutofthe car and run aroundthefronttogettoJack.
Iclose mybedroomdoor and leanagainstit, takingdeep breaths Mybodyis shaking, and mychestis tight, filled with anguish.Ihaven’thadapanicattackinmonths,andI’vebeencareful tonotputtoomuchonmyplatebecausestresstriggers them.Now,thankstothatasshole,I’mhavingone.
Ican’tletGrandpaseemelikethis He’llworryanddemandIdropoutofoneofmyAPclassesor,worse,volleyball He didn’t like it whenImade teamcaptain. Ifit were up to him, I’d staylocked inthe house and do nothing. He thinks I’ma porcelaindoll,andbreakable,allthankstomypanicattacks
Hewasn’talwayslikethat.Butlosingmydad hisonlyson andhisdaughter-in-lawmadehimfearful.He’safraidhe’ll lose me too. I almost died inthe same helicopter crashthat tookMomand Dad. I was five whenit happened, and I don’t remember much, save my parents using their bodies to shield me. Grandpa became my legal guardian after that. I was homeschooleduntiltheeighthgrade.ThenIbeggedtoattendarealhighschool.
Besides his estranged younger brother, I’mthe onlyfamilyGrandpa has left Grandma died before Iwas born For that reason,Ipushbackagainsthisover-the-topprotectivenessonlywhenitbeginstosmotherme.I’mgladhehashishockeyteam andtheacademytokeephisattentionawayfrommeenoughtoallowmetobreathe Unlessapanicattackhindersmyabilitytodothat. Ihatethis.
Before mybrainbegins to spinoutofcontrol once more, Ihead to the bathroom. Ahotshower is exactlywhatIneed. WheneverIhaveanattack,Iliketocurlupinbedandwatchoneofmyfavoriteshows ButIcan’ttoday Grandpawantstosee methismorning.There’ssomeonehewantsmetomeet anew hockeyacademystudentwho’smovingintothedormalittle early.
It’sanextraprecautionbecauseIknowtheadministrationdoesadetailedbackgroundcheckoneveryoneapplyingforthe hockeyprogram,whether theystayinthe dorms or not.Agoodcharacter is one ofthe qualities Grandpa looks for inall his prospects
I ALREADY KNEW THE ACADEMY WAS ON THE SAME PROPERTY AS MR O’BRIEN’S MANSION, BUT I COULDN’T HAVE IMAGINED THE sizeofthegroundsbehindthewroughtirongate.AfterIidentifymyselfatthesecuritycheckpoint,themaindrivewaythatleads to the mega-mansion stretches before me, peppered with tall trees on each side. Even from this distance, I can see how magnificentthemansionis ItlookslikesomethingstraightoutofGreekmythology,withtall columnsframingthefrontwhite doubledoors.
Notfarfromit,Iseethetrainingfacility,whichcouldeasilybethesamesizeasthemainhouseorevenbigger Iknowit houses a state-of-the-artgym, anice rink, locker rooms, and anentertainmentroom Isaw the pictures online, and itlooks badass.Ican’twaittovisit.
He nods “Good Here’s your welcome pack All the informationyouneed is init, plus your roomkeys Usually, you’d bunkwithanotherplayer,butsinceyourbrotherwillbestayingwithyou,he’llbeyourroommate.”
JACK AND I HAVE PLENTY OF TIME TO UNLOAD THE CAR AND GET SETTLED IN OUR NEW ROOM. IT’S BIGGER THAN I THOUGHT IT’D be Therearetwodoublebeds,oneoneachside,andtwodesksfacingthewindowinthespacebetweenthem
The walls are off-white and recentlypainted, and the beige carpetis brand new. Itmakes me wonder iftheyreplace it everyyear,orifwegotlucky.
I COULDN’T STAY IN MY ROOM AFTER THE PANIC ATTACK, SO I DECIDED TO GO FOR A DRIVE BUT I LOST TRACK OF TIME AND endedupcominghomelaterthanIintended.
It’s fifteenpastnoonwhenIwalkinthe frontdoor. Grandpa hates a lackofpunctuality, and I’mnotlookingforward to beingchastised Hewon’tdoitinfrontofhisgueststhough Publichumiliationisnothowherolls
Thetallestoftheguypushes his chair backandstands Whenhe faces me,myjaw drops It’s the ass whoalmosthitme withhiscar. This guyisthenewrecruitGrandpaisbreakingtherulesfor?Hemustbeextremelytalented.
Itrytoguesswhatpositionheplays Icanusuallytellbyhowtheystandandbehave Forwardsareusuallythecockiestof thebunch,D-menareeitherteddybearsoralwaystense,readyforafight.Goaliesareusuallygoofballsornuts.ButIcan’ttell withthis guy. Ido notice thathe’s damncute, and thatmakes me a little more aggravated. Jerkfaces have no rightto be this good-looking
Histannedfaceturnspale,andhiseyesarewideandshiningwithguilt. I bet you ’ re regretting your actions now, buddy. “ThisisLeoWiseman,andhisyoungerbrotherJack Lads,thisismygranddaughter,Ellie” Shit.Grandpaonlycallshisplayers lad ifhereallylikesthem.IcoulddestroyLeo’sdreambeforeitstarts,butI’mnota heartlessmonster.Thatdoesn’tmeanIwon’tmakehimsweatthough.
I glance at Grandpa again, knowing he’ll decide if Leo stays or goes depending on my answer. I’ma little mad that I couldn’ttorturehimabitlonger,butI’malsoinawethathedidn’thesitatetoownuptohismistake.Maybeheisn’tanasshole afterall
Iturnto Grandpa and shake myhead. He smirks and takes a sip ofhis water. Jean-Pierre is a total diva, and itmustbe killinghimthatGrandpamadehimcookhotdogs
Fuck Thatanswersmyquestion She did notice Butthere’snochanceinhellI’llconfessI’mattractedtoher It’sonething toownuptoalmosthittingher withmycar andquite another tolether know I’mintoher.This couldverywell be a trap.I doubtMr O’BrienwillkeepmeintheprogramifhefindsoutI’mattractedtohisgranddaughter Ilaughinderision.“Aren’tyoufullofyourself?”
Herblueeyessparklewithanger. Nice going, Leo Sheopenshermouth,thenshutsitagainwithoutsayingaword.Shegets intohercar,andIdon’tmovefrommyspot,remorseeatingatmyinsidesasIwatchherdriveaway.
ELLIE
Myface is inflames. I’ve never beenso humiliated inmylife. Ican’tbelieve Ibothered comingto see Leo to explainmy actions.Hetrickedmeintobelievinghewasagoodguy.Ishouldhaveknownbetter.Alltheboysinmygrandfather’shockey programarecockyassholes
Remorse fills mychest, givingme the sensationthatI’mdrowning He’s anorphan, justlike me Ibarelyremember my parents.IwastooyoungwhenIlostthem,butthepainofthatlossisstillwithme,burieddeepinsidemyheart.
“That’sawful”
“It is. Guardianship of him and his brother went to his aunt, but she’s only twenty-two and lives in Florida. Your grandfatherofferedLeoafullridetotheprogramandisallowinghisyoungerbrothertolivewithhiminthedorms.” “Becausehehasspecialneeds.” Franknods.“Correct.”
God,Ifeellikeanass True,heactedlikeajerk,butnowIunderstandwhyhewouldn’tadmithewascheckingmeout I’ve beentoldseveral times thatmybluntness canbe a problem.Iwouldn’tbe surprisedifLeobelieves I’ma bratwholikes to playgames Bycomingtoseehim,Icomplicatedmatters
I’M WAITING AT THE HOTEL BAR FOR ANDREW TO SHOW UP. IT’S THE END OF THE SECOND DAY OF THE EXECUTIVE SUMMIT A verylongday,Imightadd andsofar,everythinghasgonegreat ThebestpartofbeinghereispissingoffPaco,naturally But despite the gorgeous location I mean, who doesn’t love Marbella inthe summer and the successful networkingday, I’m guttedaboutmissingGrandpa’sparty.It’salreadytwointhemorninghere,butbySpanishstandards,theeveningbarelystarted, andGrandpa’scelebrationmustbeinfullswingbynow.Icalledhimearlier,betweenmeetings,towishhimahappybirthday, buttheconversationwasquick.
Myentirebodyisfrozen,saveformyheart,whichisbeatingatbreakneckspeed Ihaven’tspokentoLeosincethelasttime Isaw him. He never texted me or sentme anemail either, notthatIexpected himto after whathappened. I’mshocked he’s callingnowanddamncurioustofindoutwhy ButI’malsoterrified “Ellie?”
IcontinuetowardtheelevatorsandbegintomakealistofeverythingIneedtodo Bookourflights,sendanemailtothe CEO, myteam, and HR. I’mindeep focus mode and don’tnotice the elevator ride or the walkto myhotel room. Andrew followsmeinsilence,andoncewe’reinsidemysuite,hevolunteerstotakecareofbookingtheflights
Afew hours won’t make a difference.That’swhathewasgoingtosay. Itwon’tmakeadifferencebecausemygrandfatherisdead He’s dead Idroptheshirtinmyhandandbendforward,huggingmymiddle.TheemotionsIamtryingtokeepatbayfinallybreakthe dam Aloudsobescapesmylips,andmyvisionturnsblurryfromthetearsfillingmyeyes Andrewpullsmeintoabearhug,cuppingthebackofmyhead.Hisgestureshattersmylastdefenseagainsttheexcruciating painlaceratingmyheart
“Itdoesn’tmatter Ichosemycareerovermygrandfather,andnowhe’sdead” Hepullsbackandframesmyfacewithhishands,forcingmetolookintohiseyes.“Youdidn’tkillhim,Ellie.” Fattearskeeprollingdownmycheeks IwanttoarguewithAndrew,butI’mtoobrokenheartedtodoso Hecansayallthe right things, but his words won’t diminishthe guilt swirlinginmychest. Imaynot have killed mygrandfather, but he died disappointedinme,andI’llneverforgivemyselfforthat
LEO
I’ve been sitting in my chair in the ballroom and staring at my phone for the past ten minutes The ambulance with Mr O’Brien’s bodyhas alreadyleft. Paul O’Brien Mr. O’Brien’s younger brother has vanished, butIdon’tknow ifhe went
Ishould be relieved thatshe wasn’talone whenIgave her the awful news Butthe agonyslicingmychestopentells a differentstory.I’mjealous,andthatonlymakesmefeelmorewretched.Hergrandfatherjustdied,andhereIam,angryshe’s movedon
That’s beena source ofmuchspeculationwithinthe organizationandthe NHLingeneral.Mr.O’Brienhas twopossible heirs.Ellie,andPaul,whomhehadn’tspokentoinyearsuntilheofferedthemanajobwithintheZodiacsorganizationeight years ago. Paul O’Brienis the senior director of media relations now, but he’s made no secret of the fact that he wants to replaceMr O’Brienaspresident WithMr O’Brien’sdeath,hemightgethiswishafterall
Adriver is waitingfor us atthearrival gate,holdingasign.Mercifully,Andrew bookedhimunder his name.Iwouldn’t callmygrandfatheracelebrity,butthere’sboundtobeahockeyfanattheairportwhocouldrecognizehislastname Mysunglasses are firmlyinplace, and Idon’tsaya word to the driver, lettingAndrew handle the small talk. Butonce insidethecar,IhavetotellhimIdon’twanttogotomygrandfather’shouse,whichistheaddressAndrewgavehim “PleasetakemetotheStarlightArena,”Isay. “Idon’tthinkit’sopen,ma’am.”
IkeepwalkingfastuntilIreachtheescalators.Thesilenceisdeafening.It’smidafternoon,andeventhoughit’ssummerand there aren’t any games, the arena is never this quiet or empty on a Sunday There’s always something going on skating lessons,hockeycamp,andotherevents.
ItdawnsonmethatthisisthefirsttimetheStarlightArenahascloseditsdoorsonaweekend Igetangryalloveragain Grandpa would hate that. I wonder who gave the order. It must have been Great-Uncle Paul. I don’t know the man well. Grandpa had a falling-outwithhimbefore Iwas born, and theypatched things up onlyafter Ihad alreadygone to studyin London
The young woman with multicolored hair turns and freezes. Her eyes are red and puffy, and she’s holding a crumpled tissue Her distraughtappearance is another blow againstthe wall Icreatedtoprotectmyself IfIallow grieftotake over,I won’tbeabletofunction.
“I’mreallysorryforyourloss.Mr.O’Brienwasagoodman.He’llbemissed.” Her eyes fill withtears and, damnit, now mine do as well But I can’t bite this poor woman’s head off because she’s makingmecry.
Iheadformygrandfather’sofficeandclosethedoor Iwasn’texpectingtobumpintoanyonehere,andtheshortconvowith hisassistantdrainedme.IstopinthemiddleofGrandpa’sofficeandstareathisdesk.Everythingisimmaculate,andallitems are arranged perfectly. To myleft, there’s a wall-to-wall window thatgrants me anunobstructed view ofthe trainingrink. I begintoturnwhennoisefromoutsidedrawsmyattention
I walkto the window and see a lonelyfigure onthe ice, practicingshots at the goal. Myheart leaps to mythroat. I’d recognizethosebrowncurlsanywhereintheworld Leoisdownthere,glidingovertheicelikeagod Somanyemotionshit meatonce,Ican’ttellthemapart.
Iflattenmypalmagainstthe window, wishingIcould flydownthere and seekcomfortinhis arms Butthose arms will neverholdmeagain.Aloudsobripsoutofmythroat.Asifheheardme,Leostopsskatingandlooksup.
Ijump backward, prayinghe didn’tsee me spyingonhim. Ican’ttalkto himwhile I’monthe verge ofbreakinginto a millionpieces Ineedtogetoutofhere IrushoutofGrandpa’sofficeandamabouttosprintdownthehallway,butthestackof boxesinthecornercatchesmyattention.
Theboxesarealreadyloadedontoadolly.IgrabthehandleandtiltthewholethingatananglesoIcanmoveit.It’snot heavy, butthe wheels are squeakyand don’troll smoothly, whichhinders the quickexitIwas planning Halfwaydownthe corridor,awheelcatchesonsomething.
“Comeon,”Imutter Itdoesn’tbudge, so Iyank. Instead ofgettingitunstuck, all Ido is make the dollyleansideways. Inhorror, Iwatchthe boxestumbledown,andoneofthempopsopen,spillingsheetsofpapereverywhere.
“Sonofabitch.”Idroptomykneestocollectthereportsandtheelevatorpings. Iwhipmyfacetowardit,stomachalreadytiedinknots.Then he walksout,lookingashandsomeasIremember,andI’ma teenageragain,yearningfortheboyIcan’thave
CHAPTER 10 ELLIE
10 YEARS AGO
I THOUGHT IT’D BE EASY TO FORGET ABOUT LEO. I NEVER SEE HIM AROUND THE PROPERTY, BUT I CAN’T AVOID HIM AT SCHOOL. HeandViktorAndersen anotherplayerinmygrandfather’sprogram arealleverydamngirlinschooltalksabout,including myteammates.Notsurprising.Botharegood-lookingandtogethertheymakequitethepair.Viktor,blondwithbaby-blueeyes andaJamesDeanvibeabouthim,andLeowithhisboy-next-doorcharmandkillersmile.
Curiositymakes me lose the battle withmyselfand Iglance over myshoulder. Leo is restinghis head inhis hand as he staresatthequizinfrontofhim Istretchmynecktoseehisgrade,buthenoticesandflipsthepieceofpaper,hidingitfrommy pryingeyes.Thenheglowersatme.
I look away His grade must have been low, or Mr Rodriguez wouldn’t have said anything Leo can’t stay in my grandfather’sprogramifheletshisgradesslip.
I PUSH TRACY’S STATEMENT TO THE BACK OF MY MIND AND HEAD TO MY NEXT CLASS, BUT IT SEEMS FATE REALLY WANTS TO shoveLeomyway.Iturnacornerandalmostcollidewithhim.
That’sright.Iwasplanningtoorderpizza.IfIwaitforittoarrive,I’llbelate.Unless…. “Do youwanna come? Youcanhave dinner atthe bighouse withEllie and me and playZelda onyour Switchwhile I study.”
After spendinganhour gettingreadyfor thetutoringsessionwithLeo andleavinghalfofmyclosetonthefloor I’mnow pacingatthefootofthestairswhileconstantlycheckingthetime He’snotlateyet,butmyanxietydoesn’tcare I’mnotgoing tobotheranalyzingmybehaviornow.I’mtoobusyfocusingonnothavingapanicattack.
Thesoundofanapproachingvehiclemakesmestopandstareatthefrontdoor Thenacoupledoorsopenandshut Shit I hopehedidn’tbringoneofhisteammates.It’sonethingtotutorLeo.Idoubthe’llblabberthatI’mhelpinghim.Anotherplayer mightopenhisbigmouthandgetmeintroublewithGrandpa.
The doorbell rings, sending my pulse skyrocketing Usually, Frank answers the door, but I asked himto make himself scarce.Hewasmorethanhappytooblige.Idon’tneedtoworryaboutGrandpatonight.TheZodiacsaredoingtheirten-day stretchofout-of-towngamesandGrandpanevermissesthosetrips
