If You Need Me (The Toronto Terror Series)
If You Need Me: Chapter 18

“Just in time for the sunrise. Look at the majesty of it all.” Isaac stands with his hands on his hips, smiling away.

It’s dark fucking o’clock in the morning, and I’ve already been awake for an hour and a half. The only time I ever willingly get up at this freaking hour is when we have an early flight for an away game. I’m highly undercaffeinated, and I need about three more hours of sleep and a thousand calories of food. But I’m bonding with Willy’s brothers and winning myself bonus points. Besides, it’s a hike on Bruce Trail, no big deal.

“Let’s get a move on.” Sam adjusts his backpack and speed walks toward the trail entrance. Issac falls into step behind him, and I take up the rear. I worry I’m slightly underprepared for this excursion. All I have is a small pack with two water bottles, a couple of energy bars, and a pack of gum. They have stuffed backpacks.

It’s muggy, which isn’t unusual for July in Niagara. According to the forecast, it promises to be balls hot. The escarpment is on the peninsula, which only compounds the humidity. We’ve hardly even started, and I’m sweating already.

I hustle to catch up with Isaac. Based on last night and this morning, Sam is the leader of this pack. He sets a quick pace that doesn’t allow a whole lot of room for appreciating nature or the view.

I can feel Isaac looking at me, so I glance in his direction and smile. “Did you have a good time last night?”

“Yeah. It was nice. I wish Hemi would let us set her up in her own place, but she can be stubborn.”

“Oh yeah. At work it’s pretty much Willy’s way or the highway.” I rub my bottom lip, hiding a smile as I think about all the times she’s made it abundantly clear that she is in the driver’s seat, and I’m just along for the ride. Just call me Wilhelmina Reddi-Grinst’s Passenger Princess.

“What about outside of work?” he asks.

“Eh…” I consider the shit I’ve pulled recently. “It’s more divided.” In my favor, although not because that’s how Willy wants it. Thinking things through has never been my strong suit. On the ice it’s different, because intuition guides me, but in real life…usually it means I fuck shit up.

Issac makes a sound I can’t interpret. “You’re not her usual type.”

“She dates guys with PhDs.” Like the cardiologist who started us down this path. I should send him a thank-you gift.

“But you’re not that different from her PhD dudes in some respects,” Sam calls from in front of us.

“I don’t mean it in a negative way,” Isaac reassures me. “She has a type she usually goes for, and you defy that. It’s probably a good thing, to be honest. You have the same drive and ambition.”

“She needs a challenge,” Sam calls over his shoulder.

How he can still hear us is a wonder, considering how far ahead he is.

“Yeah. She’s exceptionally driven,” I agree. “It makes sense that she would want somebody who’s equally as ambitious and intelligent as she is. Yet somehow, she’s ended up with me.” I laugh weakly. I don’t like the unpleasant feeling in my stomach that has nothing to do with my need for about three breakfast sandwiches. Willy always dates highly educated, well-mannered men. I have manners, a good family, a great career, but university wasn’t my jam. I passed the classes I took, but I had tutors and some professors who took pity on me.

“You don’t need ten years of post-secondary education to be the right fit for her,” Isaac says. “The two of you complement each other. And it’s clear that you’re head over heels. I mean, those gifts for our moms won you bonus points. I still can’t believe you found earrings like my grandma’s. Hemi’s a sucker for a thoughtful guy, and that’s a lot more than I can say for the last couple of dudes she ended up with.”

“There was a cardiologist a while back,” I note.

“That guy was a clueless idiot. Just because he has an IQ of one-forty doesn’t mean he understands how my sister ticks, but you do.” Isaac claps me on the shoulder. “Pro athletes have a different kind of smarts. You’re good at reading people, you understand risk management, and you know when to set your ego aside for the welfare of your team. That’s why Hemi wanted to work in this field.”

“Come on, guys! Let’s pick up the pace,” Sam shouts.

An hour into the hike, I’m soaked with sweat, my balls are chafed, and my legs are rubber. I could really use a five-minute rest—or a five-hour nap—and I only have a quarter of a water bottle left. According to my smart watch, we’ve already hiked eight kilometers. I’m not sure how far we’re going, but if we don’t turn around soon, I’ll have to cancel with Ash tomorrow because I doubt my legs will be able to handle squats. I might have to cancel regardless.

Three and a half hours, two rope bridges on which I thought I was going to die, and twenty kilometers later, we’re finally back at the car. I guzzle three bottles of Vitamin Water and accept two sandwiches from the cooler in the back of Sam’s luxury SUV.

My plan is to sleep all the way back to Toronto, shower off the salt, soak in the hot tub for an hour, and follow that with a three-hour nap (during which I will dream about their sister sitting on my face).

We pile into the car, and I’m grateful that my legs no longer have to do anything other than feel like Jell-O as I stretch out in the back seat.

“Next up is paintball!” Sam exclaims with more enthusiasm than anyone should have after a twenty-kilometer sprint-hike through the woods.

Isaac looks over his shoulder and gives me a thumbs-up. “You in? We know a great place.”

I’m definitely not in. All I want to do is sleep for the rest of the day, and probably part of tomorrow, but I return the thumbs-up because I will not tap out on Willy’s brothers. There’s too much at stake. “I’m in.”

Willy messages for an update.

I send her a thumbs-up.

She sends a frowny face in return.

I send heart eyes and kissy lips.

She sends a middle finger.

I follow it with the tongue.

She doesn’t reply.

Forty-five minutes and a brief ten-minute nap later, I’m outfitted in paintball gear, holding a paintball gun, while Sam and Isaac do jumping jacks and knee-ups in preparation for whatever is about to happen. I still have no idea what Sam does for a living, but he seems to love paintball guns.

There are several things I am not a fan of, one being clowns, two sauerkraut, three heights, and lastly, but also most importantly, I am definitely not a fan of dark, confined spaces. And it turns out, that is essentially the whole point of paintball. I have a raging anxiety boner, the head of which is tucked uncomfortably into the waistband of my pants. My skin is gritty with salt. Places that shouldn’t be chafed are really fucking chafed.

And to add insult to injury, we’re surrounded by an exceptional number of teenage boys, who scream incessantly at each other, and a few girls who obviously got dragged along for the ride. I relate to their lack of enthusiasm.

We enter the paintball room. At this point, I’m just trying to hide, and maybe take a small break so my legs can stop feeling like overcooked spaghetti.

A gaggle of noisy teens is headed my way, their giggles and swearing giving them away. I’m forced to leave my protective cover as they draw closer.

Sam’s booming voice echoes through the vast room. “Two o’clock! Light him up!”

Paintballs slam into my arms, legs, back, and chest. I aim shots in their direction, but I’m decidedly shitty at paintball, and every one goes wide. I don’t think it can get worse, until one hits me right in the anxiety boner, taking me to the ground.

I curl into the fetal position and pray for death. Instead, Isaac’s black-booted feet appear in my vision. “You all right, buddy?”

“That was a nut shot,” I groan.

“Sam’s dirty like that.” Isaac extends a hand. “I should have warned you to wear a cup.”

Who needs a cup for paintball? Apparently these guys.

I would prefer to stay on the floor for the rest of the day, even if it means being trampled by teenagers, but I really want Wills to sit on my face, so I let Isaac help me to my feet.

Thankfully, Sam eventually runs out of paintballs, and Isaac expresses how hungry he is. I’d be down for a giant buffet.

We change out of our paint-covered clothes—I would love a shower to wash away the grit, but that’s not on the menu yet—and we climb back into Sam’s car and drive to a restaurant. I order four appetizers and two meals and reluctantly share them with Willy’s brothers.

I’m fantasizing about a large pizza and a nap when Sam says, “There’s an escape room close to my place that I’m dying to try out. You up for that?”

I pause with my fork halfway to my mouth. He doesn’t look like he’s joking. All I want is my bed. But again, I think about Wills and how much I want the reward that comes with her brothers’ fucking approval. “Yeah, man, absolutely.”

“Awesome!” Isaac gives me a thumbs-up. It seems to be his thing.

“Want me to see if some of the guys from my team are interested?” Ash loves these things, and Roman and Hollis would probably be down. I could also use a buffer from the intensity of these two. They’re seriously high octane. I thought I had energy to burn, but these two are next-fucking-level.

“Seriously?” Sam asks.

“Yeah, let me send them a text.”

I send a message to our group chat, meant mostly for setting up workouts.

We finish lunch and drive to the escape room.

“Sam is a diehard Roman Hammerstein fan,” Isaac shares as we pile out of the SUV.

“Shut the fuck up, Isaac.” I’m pretty sure Sam is blushing, which is…entertaining.

“He’s an awesome player and a great goalie,” I agree. “The team will be sad to see him go at the end of next season.” He’s diplomatic, even keeled, and basically the team dad.

“He’s had an amazing career,” Sam notes. “There isn’t a better goalie in the league.”

We meet Flip, Tristan, Hollis, Roman, and Ash in front of the building. I stage a round of introductions, and Sam gets all pumped up. Dude is intense to begin with, but he seems to know all of Roman’s stats and his entire career history. I’m just happy to have the attention off of me for a couple hours.

“Are you limping?” Ash asks.

“I’m fine.”

“Liar. These two seem like a lot to handle.”

I hold two fingers a hairbreadth apart.

“Sort of explains why Hemi is the way she is,” he muses.

“Willy’s perfect,” I snap.

He pats me on the back. “Agreed. I’m just saying, if this is how her brothers are all the time, it gives a little perspective as to why she’s such a boss queen, that’s all. Sort of like how Shilps is the youngest of five and had to fight for her place.”

“Yeah. That makes sense. They’re awesome women.”

We split up into two teams, me with Isaac, Ash, and Flip. Roman, Hollis, Sam, and Tristan form the other team. I’m grateful that it only takes Isaac half an hour to figure it out, with the help of mostly Ash and minor input from me and Flip. Sam doesn’t seem nearly as bothered by the loss as I’d anticipated, but then, he’s practically glued himself to Roman’s side.

Afterward, we head to the Watering Hole for beers and dinner. This day feels like the longest of my life. And possibly one of the most painful.

It isn’t until I’m lying on my couch—freshly showered with baby powder on my poor chafed balls, wishing for a new set of legs—that my phone buzzes with a message.

I swallow the lump in my throat as Willy’s name flashes across the screen. I open the message with a stomach full of rocks. At least until I read the content.