PEYTON
I was mostly numb after I left Avery’s house. All the way to the arena, I was on autopilot, replaying everything we’d said and wondering if I could have—and should have—done something different.
But I’d had to saysomething. Maybe I’d timed it wrong or said the wrong thing or—I didn’t know. But it wasn’t something I could just pretend not to notice. I couldn’t just sit back and wait for him to realize this wasn’t love.
Not for him, anyway. Itwaslove for me. I’d already known I was in love with him, and nothing had driven that home more than realizing he was slipping away from me. All I’d wanted to do was pump the brakes and make sure we both knew what we were doing, but all I’d succeeded in doing was losing him.
“Christ,” I whispered. “What the fuck did I just do?”
And what could I have done differently? It wasn’t like I’d told him I needed to end things. I’d told him the exact opposite!He’dended everything.
I had no idea what could have or should have changed, only that this was all wrong. We could salvage this, couldn’twe? Cool off, talk it through, take it slow, figure out what we both really felt? This didn’t have to be the end.
I might’ve been able to believe that if the hurt in Avery’s expression wasn’t seared into my memory like an awful replay no one would stop showing.
I fucked this up.
I fucked it all up.
And I have no idea how to fix it.
Worse, I couldn’t just stay home and wallow or go back to Avery’s place and beg him to talk this through with me. No, I had to be at the morning skate, and I had a game tonight.
As I got off the freeway to get to the arena, my stomach wound itself into even tighter knots. That cold pizza and coffee from earlier threatened to lurch up my throat.
We’d come out to the team. They knew.
They’d had yesterday and last night to dream up all kinds of chirps about it, and there’d be no avoiding any of that once I walked into the locker room. What was I supposed to do? Tell them,“Never mind, we actually broke up this morning?”It was the truth, but it would mean questions and concerned looks and…
Was it too late to tell Coach I was too sick for practice or for tonight’s game?
Yeah, it was, and I couldn’t do that anyway. The team was counting on me. We were already down one top six forward. Plus there would be no end of heckling from the guys if I was suddenly scratched the day after quite obviously spending half the day in bed with Avery.
“Fuck my life,” I muttered to the steering wheel.
There was no avoiding it. Any of it. Nothing to do but nut up and face the guys, and hope I didn’t break down sobbing or lose my temper or God only knew what else.
When I pulled into the parking lot, I still had about fifteen minutes before I needed to be in the locker room. I hemmed and hawed a little, then swallowed my pride and did the only thing I could think of.
Can we talk about this? I’m sorry. I don’t want this to be over.
The word “Read” appeared beneath the message, so at least he hadn’t blocked me.
He didn’t respond, though.
Sighing, I closed my eyes and pressed back against the driver seat. Wecouldcome back from this. Right? It wasn’t like one of us had committed some unforgivable sin.
You mean besides telling him he doesn’t know what he’s feeling and he’s not really in love with you?
God, I fucked up so bad…
And somehow I was going to face my team and play hockey? When all I wanted to do was break every traffic law imaginable getting back to Sewickley to plead with Avery to talk this through?
Not like I had much choice. Avery wasn’t interested in talking to me, and I had a job to do. Swearing under my breath, I got out of the car and headed inside, keeping my gaze down.
From halfway up the hall, I could hear the locker room’s predictable noise, which was mostly voices talking over the rustles and squeaks of gear.
I thought I caught a glimpse of some guys in the hallway between me and the locker room, but they disappeared inside before I really paid much attention.
