I reel back. Brooks has always been the steady one. He’s huge, but he’s relatively quiet. Gentle. Except when he’s on the ice.
Aiden’s been open about his depression for a long time. After his panic attack during a game, he made it his mission to talk about mental health with players in the NHL and in youth hockey, to destigmatize therapy and asking for help.
But I had no idea Brooks struggled too.
“I had to work through my animosity toward my father,” War says. “After my mom died, I hated everyone.” He lifts his chin. “But if I wanted a shot at a healthy marriage and to be a good father, I knew I had to do the work. I had to accept the loss of my mother and how fucked-up my childhood was. We don’t always get the apologies we deserve,” he murmurs, though his tone is even. “People disappoint us regularly, but we can’t control that. We can only control how we process it. And Camden, you haven’t processed any of it.”
I grip my stick harder, my knuckles turning white. “I’ll never forgive them for what they did. Not after what it did to my sister. But I don’t hold that against Savannah.”
“Put Savannah and your sister out of your mind for a second,” Aiden says softly. “Ever think that maybe you need to forgive them for you?”
My heart thumps against my ribcage as I survey him.
“And forgive yourself,” Daniel says.
A scoff escapes me. “I don’t deserve forgiveness.”
Aiden shakes his head. “Until you realize how wrong you are, you’re right; you won’t be able to fix things with Savannah.”
I blow out a breath and glare at the ice. “I need to be better for her.”
My friends are silent, standing close by, more supportive than I deserve.
I swallow and let out a heavy breath. “And I guess the only way I can do that is to be better for me too.”
War nods.
“But how?” Where do I even start? It’s overwhelming to even think about. “I want to fix this, so tell me, what the fuck do I do? How can I make this better?”
Aiden takes the stick from my hands. I only now realize I’ve been twisting so hard that I’ll have blisters in the morning. “First step is acknowledging that you need help,” he says. “And that’s exactly what you just did. It’s a big hurdle, and you’ve already cleared it. And we’re here to help you. Every step of the way.”
“I have an idea that just might help you win Savannah back,” Daniel adds. “But it won’t be quick, and you’ve got to be willing to put in the work.”
Hope has me nodding quickly. “I’ll do anything.”
FIFTY-ONE
SAVANNAH
Calliope’s Column
It’s Not Him, It’s Me. And I Lost Him.
I’ve builtthis column by being honest with you. I told you from day one that there are rules when it comes to dating. That if you want a man you’ve just met to keep calling, there are certain things you shouldn’t do.
I did this because my dear friend, a woman who is lovely and deserving of a real true love, kept getting her heart broken when she put it on the line.
My point to her, and I suppose to all of you, was that she should stop putting her heart on the line so early. That she should hold back a bit.
And to prove this, I did all the things she said she normally did, and more, before she was ghosted.
The idea was genius, right? Witty. My articles were clever because I did all the wrong things, and yet I kept the man.
I thought I was the exception because he was exceptional. That’s what I sold you on, right? Because that’s what he sold me on.
I thought that if he’s the right one for you, the rules don’t apply. And Ialmost had myself fooled into believing that my sweet, romantic friend might have been right all along.
But I was wrong. Because the only reason he stuck around was for a bet.
