Prologue
IN CONSTANTINE ZIMIN’S twenty-seven years on planet earth, nothing had ever tasted so bittersweet.
The Cup - THE motherfucking Cup - was right there at center ice, surrounded by hockey legends, the league’s commissioner, and some other people he honestly didn’t recognize, so screw ‘em. Soon, Zim and the New Orleans Cajun Rage would be announced as the 2016 Cup Champions.
He felt under his jersey for the thick, silver chain he knew would be there, and brought it to his lips, kissing it with a silent word. Mila.
His twin sister would have been there to cheer him on. Should have been. Ten years after they’d lost her, the pain had never been so acute as it was at that moment. She had always been his number one cheerleader, even before his parents. Not a day went by that he didn’t miss her.
“This is fucking unreal!” The Rage’s starting goalie, Flynn Kazakov, yelled, champing at the bit to get his hands on the trophy. “Can you believe this?”
“I know!” Zim shouted over the cacophony, a mixture of cheering fans, and booming announcements.
Flynn clapped him hard on the shoulder, laughing. “Soak it in, my man! Soak it in.”
Zim knew how much it meant to the guy. It was the same for all of them. Though each man had his reasons, his own personal demons that he’d had to fight to get to this point in his life, they were all there to share in the glory of this success.
All but one.
Zim’s best friend, his teammate for nearly as many years as he’d been in pro hockey, Jonas Magnusson, was not beside him. He hadn’t been there for the thrilling final game. He wasn’t there to hoist The Cup over his head and take a lap around the ice. He wouldn’t be back in the locker room to guzzle champagne from its gleaming, silver bowl.
Instead, Jonas was laid up in a hospital bed with a concussion and a goddamned broken leg because he – Zim – hadn’t been on the ice to protect him.
So, yeah. This was as fucking bittersweet as it came. No Mila. No Jonas. Not even his parents could make it out for this final game.
He thought about calling Jonas from the ice, getting the asshole on the phone and letting him hear the deafening cheers from their home crowd. Maybe he was watching on television, though Zim doubted it. The guy had been so out of it when he’d dropped by earlier in the day.
Fuck.
“You look like you stepped in shit,” yelled rightwinger, Ransom Cox. Right in Zim’s motherfucking ear. “We just won The Cup, man! There’ll be bunnies lined up for days after this.”
Zim nodded and forced a smile. It wasn’t like Coxy to drown himself in puck bunnies, but it was a special occasion.
“Fucking unreal, ain’t it?”
Ransom nodded, grinning like an idiot.
Zim had to laugh.
Jonas and Mila would both kick his ass if he didn’t enjoy this moment, so he concentrated on doing just that. The truth was, other than his parents and Magnussen, Zim didn’t have anyone to share this with after the lights dimmed and the parties ended. It was a sobering thought, and he wasn’t even drunk yet.
This should have felt bigger, like the culmination of something. Instead, it seemed more like the means to an end.
Ladies and gentlemen, your 2016 Cup Champion Cajun Rage!
The arena exploded with riotous cheers and applause while their fight song blared from every speaker.
Zim had waited his whole life for this moment. Had shed buckets of blood, and oceans of sweat and tears for it. He’d protected their lead in game seven with a fortunate kick save, helping out their goalie and securing the team’s place in history. Zim had earned this. He should have been over the fucking moon, but it rang hollow.
Tonight, he’d celebrate with his teammates and then head over to sit with Jonas. He had to wake up soon, right? The fucker had better.
Zim would make sure Jonas was okay, and then he’d take his $200,000 bonus and head back home to Philly for the summer. Get things rolling on a project he’d been wanting to do for a long, long time. Something he’d been wanting to do for Mila, in her memory.
“Zimmer!” Right-winger Archie Durham yelled for Zim, and he realized Archer had The Cup in his hands. Archers grinned widely as he skated toward him. “Time for a spin around the ice by the man who saved our collective asses.”
Zim had a plan, a promise he’d made to himself years ago. After tonight, he’d be going home as a champion. He just might have the means to make that promise a reality. It was something. This moment was something.
He hoisted The Cup over his head, and then he took that goddamned lap.
THREE MONTHS LATER
Suji,
I’m sorry to do this in a letter. It’s shitty, I know, but you know what a coward I am. Neither of us ever really felt like it was working, so me leaving without saying goodbye face-to-face shouldn’t be a shock.
Listen, I’ll never forget you. You’re loyal, and your devotion to the hospital is great, but I realized I need more. My career’s taking off, and I need someone by my side. I know you live for your work, and I should have been more understanding, but we are who we are. You taught me that.
Deep down, I think you knew it was over, but you hung in there anyway. Honestly, I don’t believe you would have ever walked away. I’m ripping off the bandage.
Find that person – the one who wants to change the world, like you do. Good luck.
All my best,
Brian
Sujarta Meriwether read the letter for the umpteenth time. By now, it was wrinkled, worn in spots, and showing traces of dried tears where the ink had smudged.
After three months, she had no more tears for that failed relationship. The only evidence that she and Brian had ever lived together sat patiently at her feet, waiting for her to acknowledge it.
She patted the space next to her on the plastic-covered couch and Jasmine, her white Persian cat, jumped up and settled at her side. Absentmindedly, Suji stroked the animal. The tactile memories brought on by such a simple act would probably always assault her, she mused.
Running from the car with Brian, in the pouring rain, to the house with the sign in the yard that read Free Kittens.
Bringing a five-week-old Jasmine to their new home and play-arguing over her name.
Spending an obscene amount of money at PetWorld to make Jasmine’s little corner of the living room a cat haven.
Nearly four years later, surrounded by moving boxes and the smell of fresh paint, Suji looked around at the skeletal remains of what she once thought would be the rest of her life with Brian, and tried to name the emotion she felt.
“Empty,” she said to Jasmine as she got up and got back to work.
Jasmine only yawned.
“Suji?”
“Back here, Amri.”
“Jesus. How did I not know you were a hoarder?” Suji’s sister, Amrita, worked her slender, five-foot-eleven-inch frame through the maze of stacked boxes and into the spare bedroom. She stopped in the doorway, shaking her head.
Suji touched-up the paint around the window trim. “What?”
“Why are you doing that?” Amrita ambled over to her.
“I want my security deposit back.”
“Suji, this place is immaculate. You’d think no one ever lived here at all, much less two people and…” She picked a clump of white hair off her black t-shirt. “A molting cat.”
She brushed her hands on her jeans.
They both watched as the clump fell to the hardwood floor and Amrita slid it to the side with the toe of her sandal. She started to run a hand over her thick, dark chocolate hair but seemed to change her mind at the last second, using the inside of her forearm instead.
Suji stood from her crouching position and took in the state of the room. “Yeah, I guess it is pretty spic-and-span, aside from a few furballs.”
It was much like the rest of the two-bedroom apartment, crisp and clean, aside from the multitude of boxes and bags awaiting the movers. She placed her brush into the small can of white touch-up paint and removed her gloves, tossing them onto the protective plastic covering the floor.
The sun poured in through the bay window, catching Amrita in a pool of light. Her tawny skin and dark, cinnamon hair framed by gold.
Suji found herself staring at her sister. She’d always thought of herself as attractive enough, but at that moment she felt like a sack of potatoes standing in the same room as Amrita.
“Do I work too much?”
Amri burst into laughter.
“What’s so funny?”
“Wait, were you asking a serious question?” Amri wiped her eyes and caught her breath.
“I think you just answered it.” Suji sighed. “No wonder Brian left.”
“Oh, fuck that noise,” Amri snapped. “I don’t want to hear another word about that asshole.”
“He wanted to spend more time with me, but since I took over as Head Nurse, I haven’t had a lot of free time.”
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