After the Storm

Chapter Eight

Some of the guys on the AHL team wanted to go out and do one last thing together to celebrate my first NHL game. I'll give them credit, it wasn't anything wild or disruptive, just nachos at a local restaurant but it felt anything but relaxed to me.

My day had been long. Like, Lord of the Rings long. I had woken up at the crack of dawn for my practice. It was completely unnecessary to get up that early considering I was due on the ice at ten am, but I was just too riled up to sleep. Practice went as well as I could have hoped. Everyone was nice, but some of the guys were intimidating no matter how much they may have tried not to be. More than once I was told that the team was happy to have me. The coach seemed satisfied with my performance during the practice drills and scrimmage, but he was stingy with the compliments. Fine by me. I don't play for those.

Then when I got home, I was surprised by my parents and Uncle Mark, who were waiting in the lobby of my apartment complex.

I swear I didn't recognize them at first. Funny how when your brain thinks it's impossible for something to be true, your eyes follow suit.

"Taylor!" my mom yelled.

"Oh my god, what are you guys doing here?"

Turns out they came to be there in person for my first game the following night.

I'm sure they were fine fending for themselves in my apartment, but I wanted to get back to them—and my couch—soon. It didn't feel right being out when they came all this way. That didn't fly with them, as they insisted I go out.

I wasn't even sure if I knew what the guys were talking about. Tom Brady? That was a few minutes ago at this point, so maybe they moved on to something else. I was more invested in watching the front door than I was in their conversation.

That was why I saw the second Camille stepped inside. She didn't get further than the bar, which was located at the front. The line was empty so she went immediately to the open barista. When she moved to stand at the pick-up counter and was looking obviously non-busy, I called out for her.

I watched her fair face morph into one of skepticism.

No, you're not hearing things.

Her eyes tentatively scanned the patrons and they widened when they saw me.

As she took a few steps toward my table, I stood up.

"Where're you going?" David asked.

Now someone at the table noticed me. They had all seemed pretty content leaving me out of the loop. Not a complaint, by the way.

"I know that girl," I told him. "Camille, hey!"

Even though I've only seen this girl in person a handful of times, it was still obvious to me that something was off. Maybe it was the heaviness in her eyes, or the pulled-down corners of her mouth.

When we were about a foot away from each other and next to my table, we stopped walking.

"Hey, I didn't know you knew this place." She was bundled in a thick black coat and a marbled blue and white toque. She took her hat off and shoved it into her pocket.

"I actually didn't. One of my teammates suggested it."

It was when I went to look at Justin, the teammate in question, that I realized that everyone at the table was focusing on me.

And Camille.

"Camille, these are some of my teammates from the Wind," I said innocently.

I didn't expect her nor my teammates to introduce themselves or say anything. Going back to their own business would have been ideal.