Coach Huff also talks more than the normal human, so there’s no surprise there.
My shit is gathered, and I’m ready to go. I quickly bolt from the locker room to head toward the bus. I keep my head down, just hoping to make it out of this hallway, but of course, the women’s team is headed out of the arena and down the same hallway toward their locker room.
What are the fucking chances?
I need to be in the state of mind to go win this game. It’s only our second regular season game, and we’re going up against New Hampshire, who has one of the strongest defenses in college hockey right now. Every player tonight will need to be on his best game.
I keep my eyes down, but the second Isla is in the same hallway, I feel her. I feel her eyes on me, and I feel her getting closer. I don’t want to look. No, Ican’tfucking look. But she doesn’t leave me a choice because before I know it, her small body—wearing all of her goalie gear—is blocking me.
“Seriously, you can’t even say hi to me, Hendrix?” she says in pure disbelief and obvious disdain.
She steps closer to the wall, letting the rest of her teammates shuffle by. Her bright blue eyes are darker today, filled with rage. “Look at me, jerk.” She hisses the words, but the pain in her voice is clear as day, and reluctantly, I look at her.
I knew that she’d be mad, but I didn’t realize how much agony I would see on her face, and inside, it’s fucking tearing me apart. But I deserve it. I know that I do.
“What?” I say, looking at her even though it fucking stings. I try to keep my voice unbothered, not to lead on how much hurting her hurts me.
“What?” she mimics back as quietly as she can, though there’s no hiding her rage. “We … hooked up,” she whispers angrily. “I asked someone I knew to help find your sister becauseI could tell that it was eating you alive, not knowing. And now, you’re ignoring my messages and trying to avoid me in this fucking hallway. And you have the audacity to saywhatand stand here, looking all fucking clueless and stupid? Like I have no reason to be bothering you?”
This is one of those moments where all I want to do is grab her, kiss her as hard and long as I can until she’s gasping for air, and tell her the truth. That I want her. That I think … I think I might love her, but that I’m fucking terrified because she deserves more than me. And that I’m more fucked up than even the bad boy I’ve been painted out to be. And of course, she’s making this all harder on me, telling me that she took the time to reach out to someone to help find Lilly.
Of fucking course she did. Because that’s who Isla is.
I want to do a lot of things right now, but what I’ve come to understand about Isla is, despite the parts of her that she keeps hidden, she’s a good girl through and through. It wouldn’t matter what I told her about my past or not being enough. She would still see the best in me, even when the best isn’t there. And she doesn’t even know the worst about me. She has no idea the things I’ve done.
“What did you think, Nineteen?” I add in a lazy shrug, trying my best to treat her the way that I did back at that stupid hockey camp. When all I saw her as was a shallow, spoiled brat. “That the bad boy, who’s been to juvie, and the good girl, who sits around the table at family dinners that he’ll never belong at, would end up together?” I shrug. “We both know that all you and I are good for together is having sex.”
Tears fill her big blue eyes, and my heart hurts so bad that I want to rip the fucking thing out. What would it matter if I did? It isn’t like I need it anymore.
I want to take everything I just said back. I want to so badly, but I can’t. She will always be too good for me. And I am not going to be the guy who pulls her down into my darkness.
The dark is where I belong, and sunshine like Isla Hardy? Has no place here.
“Wow,” she whispers, quickly wiping a few tears before they can stream down her cheeks. “Wow. Wow. Wow.” She keeps saying the word over and over, looking at me in pure shock. “You know what, Hendrix Hunt? Fuck you,” she whimpers, her lips trembling. “Turns out, everyone was right. I should have listened and not have been so stupid.”
I open my mouth to say something, anything to make it hurt a little fucking less. Not just for her, but for me. But I’m not the guy who fixes things. I break them. I ruin them.
I burn them.
And that’s why I’m not going to go looking for my sister. Because the only thing I’ll do if I find her is fuck her life up, just like I do everyone else’s.
Seconds later, Isla is gone. And even though I want to chase her, I don’t.
What would be the point?
There is none. Margo is right, and the sooner I get that through my thick skull, the sooner Isla can go about her life and pretend I never existed.
As I am sure my sister is doing too.
ISLA
A feeling I have never felt crashes over me, and I sit in the corner of the parking lot, sobbing like a baby, gripping the steering wheel tightly.
My eyes fill so full with tears that I can’t even see in front of me, and I blink a few times before using my sleeve to wipe some of them away. It’s useless though because they only gather again.
I put a hand on my chest, not understanding why it feels like a piece of my body just got ripped out, and now, there’s a hole there. And my throat feels raw, even though I’m not sick.
What are these feelings?
