That Thing You Do (Crystal Lake 2)

“But that’s just it, Jacobs. That’s the crux of the matter right there. I don’t love the game. Not the way I should.”

His words shocked Nathan, but he sat back and let the Brit have his say.

“I played because I was damn good at it. Because I was the best. Because no none could touch me. I played for the fans because I knew when we won, it made them happy. I played for my mates because they counted on me to score and to help the team win.” His face hardened. “I played because I wanted my father to see me on the telly, to see me in the papers. I wanted to be the man his friends and colleagues chatted about and wagered on. I played for everyone else except the one person I should be playing for, and I’m done.”

Nathan was shocked. He’d figured Link was going through some kind of personal crisis, but not this. The guy wasn’t just the best in the league, if he kept on his game he could very well become the best player ever. His talent was uncanny. His speed and accuracy unparalleled. He was a demon on the field, and watching him play was like watching a damn miracle unfold in front of your eyes. It was something hard to believe or describe.

“You probably think I’m crazy or ungrateful or just fucking stupid.” Link’s face was hard, his jaw and fists clenched.

Nate was silent for a good minute or so, and then he shook his head. “No. I don’t think you’re crazy. I know what it’s like to be in it. To be so wrapped up in a game you can’t see anything else. I made pro. Did you know that?”

“No.”

“My grandmother tells folks I was born with a hockey stick in my hand. Ever since I was a kid, I wanted to play in the NHL. I’d spend hours in the driveway shooting at the net, playing road hockey with the guys, running drills with Molly. I was damn good at it. I was fast. Big. My hands were soft, and I could see the entire ice surface.” He looked out over the water. There was still a part of him that hurt to think about what could have been. “I worked my ass off, and the biggest day of my life was the day I got drafted. But my third game in, I got injured, a bad check from behind that I had no way to prepare for. I hit the boards wrong, knee first, and that was it. Career done and over before it’d barely begun. I went through hell for a long time. I was depressed and had no direction. I was mad at the whole damn world. I’ve never experienced anything like it, and it’s not a place I hope to ever revisit. All those emotions and all that anger and self-pity. I know every situation is unique, just like every athlete is. I know there’s a ton of pressure, mental and physical, because I’ve lived it. I’ve hurt and given blood and sweat for it. The game. I can’t imagine doing all that without the love for it. I can’t imagine doing all that for someone else. Some man on a hill looking down at me. If you’re playing for all the wrong reasons, then you’ve got a decision to make. A big one. And I’ll help you navigate it, but you have to be one hundred and fifty percent sure it’s what you want.”

“That’s why I’m here, mate.”

“Take as long as you need.” Nate got up from the table and grabbed his laptop.

“Where you headed off to?”

“Tuxedo fitting with the boys.”

“What about Molly?”

“Pretty sure she’s not wearing a tux to the wedding.”

Link gave him a long look. “Pretty sure she could wear a burlap bag to the wedding and look hot as hell.”

Nate looked up sharply, and Link held up his hands. “A bloke can look, can’t he?” Link hopped up and followed Nate into the house. “I was thinking of asking her out for dinner.”

Nate turned around. “That’s not going to happen.”

“And why’s that exactly?”

“You’re not her type.”

“How do you know what her type is?” he replied sharply.

Okay. Nate was riding that line between losing his shit and walking away from what had to be the most ridiculous conversation he’d had in years. As if Molly would be interested in a tattooed, muscle-bound footballer.

“Just messing with you, mate.” Link chuckled and headed for the fridge. “Any idiot can see there’s something between you two.” He grabbed a beer and leaned against the counter. “Thing is, I’ve only known her for a few days, but even I can tell she’s the kind of girl who gives one hundred and fifty percent of herself to everything she does.” Link looked Nate straight in the eye. “You might want to think about that.”

The warning wasn’t exactly subtle, and it pissed Nate off. Who the hell did he think he was, getting up in Nate’s business?

“Don’t get your knickers in a knot, Jacobs. I’m just saying that she’s not the kind of girl you mess around with. She’s the real deal.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve known Molly my entire life, and I don’t need our relationship psychoanalyzed by a guy who blew into town less than a week ago.”

“But that’s my point. You’ve known her your whole life, so what’s different now?”

Nate opened his mouth to respond and then stopped because the question made him think. What was different? Was it time or place? Loneliness or need? Was he looking to fill some void he never knew he had?

No. Not with Molly. This situation had been cooking for a while now. He was just too stupid to see it, or, the more likely version, he was too damn scared to act on it…for a whole lot of reasons, but mainly because if he screwed up, it changed things between them forever.

“I’ve wanted her since Vegas,” he murmured.

“What was that?”