Page 33 of The Rebound Play

“Benny! You are going to devalue this house the way you’re going,” Clara complains, but she’s got a big smile on her face as Dan hands him a jersey, which he rips from its plastic with glee.

“Number 29!” he says.

Dan chuckles. “Do you think you could wear it to the first game?”

“I’m gonna wear it all the time,” Benny replies, discarding his winter jacket on the floor and throwing the jersey on.

I stand, rooted to the spot, my mind darting around the possibilities. Why would Dan do something as sweet as making his number my birthday if he didn’t feel something for me?

My pulse is galloping so fast and loud in my ears I’m surprised no one else can hear it. My mouth has gone dry, and as I look up at Dan, he smiles back at me with such sincerity and warmth, I feel as though I’m floating.

“Oh, would you look at you two kids. Don’t you look terrific in your jerseys?” Clara exclaims, looking happier than I’ve seen her in a long time.

“Yes, thank you. For all of this,” I say.

“You’re welcome,” he murmurs, and for the first time I allow myself to hope.

CHAPTER 9

DAN

Maple Fest has always been the biggest annual event in my hometown. I have such fond memories of the parade, the pumpkin carving contest, the little dogs in costume, gorging myself silly on maple popcorn and maple fried dough, not to mention the cotton candy that mom always said would rot my teeth. I didn’t care, I was a kid, sucking every last drop of fun out of the annual town fall festival.

Then, when I got older, I would hang out at the festival with the other guys on the ice hockey team. I would pretend to be as cool as they were, all of us big guys attracting attention from the girls. But me? Well, I only had eyes for one girl. Yup, I was in love with Keira Johnson way before she even spoke to me.

Tragic, right? I prefer to think of it as romantic. I was a fourteen-year-old guy, a jock, popular with guys and girls alike, and all I could do was think about the mysterious girl with her nose buried in a book.

And then, when I finally plucked up the courage to talk to her when I was sixteen—I was not a fast mover—somehow I found the words to ask her out, and she stunned me by saying yes.

Our first date was to Maple Fest. As we wandered around with my teammates and their girlfriends, I slung my arm around her shoulders. It felt incredible to get to be so close to her after wanting to be with her for so long. We meandered through the festivities, drinking maple apple cider and feeling very grown up, in the evening under the lights, strung overhead.

It was the most romantic thing I’d ever seen in my short life.

Of course, there was the hayride, that seminal, almost cliché, small-town experience. I had just turned sixteen and Keira was still fifteen when we first hopped onboard. Shy and awkward, it felt good to be away from my jock friends, who’d been teasing me mercilessly about dating the nerd. I didn’t care. They could have their cheerleaders and popular girls, with their highlighted hair, makeup, and short skirts. I wanted Keira.

We sat side by side, my nerves pinging about me like balls in a pinball machine. I reached for her hand, the touch of her soft skin sending a jolt of electricity through me. And then, when I finally plucked up the courage, with my pulse hammering in my chest like a drum machine, I cupped her face in my hand, leaned in toward her, and softly brushed my lips against hers.

Our first kiss.

She had smiled up at me, her face a rosy pink, and I knew she felt it too.

We were inseparable after that.

As I think back on those days, I didn’t know how good I had it. As crazy in love with Keira as I was, I figured it would always be like that with women. I didn’t know how special it was. I took it for granted, assuming after I left for college that I would meet someone new when I was older and ready to settle down, fall in love with that same feeling I had whenever I was around Keira: that heady combination of hot, molten desire and the innate knowledge, held deep within my very bones, that I loved her.

I walk past the stalls selling cotton candy and cider and spot my teammate, Cooper Montgomery. With his perpetual frown in place, he’s standing mute as his PR person, Blair, I think he said her name was, talks to him. He looks about as happy about whatever it is she’s saying to him as he does about pretty much everything.

I throw him a smile as I make my way toward the team table. Some of the guys from the Ice Breakers are already here, signing jerseys and other Ice Breakers merch, chatting with the townsfolk and visitors. Ted “the Bear” Powell; Dawson Hayes, my old college buddy and teammate; and Noah Beaumont, the former hot property of the NHL, brought back to earth with his relegation to the AHL a while back, are talking at the team table with a group of people I don’t recognize.

I slide in beside them. “Hey, guys,” I say, and Dawson reaches out and gives me a fist bump.

“Watch out, guys. Maple Falls’ favorite son is here. We’re about to get mobbed,” Dawson says as he flashes me a grin.

I shrug. “What can I say? I can’t help that everyone loves me.”

“Yeah, I’m sure it’s a real drag for you,” he replies.

“What’s up, Dan?” Ted says with a lift of his chin.