Because yes, it was one kiss, and yes I fucked up. That much is true. I made out with someone I shouldn’t have. Or maybe it’s not about who but more about the fact that I should have respected the fact that I was still dating Sabrina, even if I didn’t want to be.
I honestly believed that telling her and ending our relationship would end her near constant whining.
I was relieved.
And that was what really startled me.
I like being in a relationship. I like the stability of it and the built in company. I like dates and sex and the familiarity of routine. It’s comfortable in a way I’ve always appreciated. And yet, the moment she walked out part of me exhaled in relief like I’d been holding my breath for years without noticing.
Not because I didn’t care about her but because there was suddenly no obligation anymore. I didn’t have to respond to her text messages or plan out expensive dates or attend fucking parties.
I was just… free.
I had thought about messaging Jacob.
More than once.
My thumb had hovered over his name in my contacts so many goddamn times it was starting to feel like muscle memory. I wanted to talk to him. To check in and see if he was okay.
Fuck, I wanted to apologize. Sincerely, like an actual fucking adult for running out of there like I’d been caught doing something illegal. I wanted to ask him if he was mad at me, or if he hated me, or if, god forbid, he was as messed up over it as I was.
Mostly, I just wanted to see him again. I wanted to be around him. Not at the training center or the arena. I wanted him in my room, writing in his notebook or talking about whatever topic he wanted. I just wanted to hear his fucking voice.
But then I realized how stupid that was.
Because I had kissed him. Well…thrown myself at him, really. I had mauled him, kissed him like I owned him, and for a brief, white-hot second, it felt like everything in the universe had finally clicked into place.
And then I left.
Just… walked away. I guess it was more of running away like my ass was on fire. I didn’t explain and I definitely didn’t ask if he was okay.
I left him there like he didn’t mean anything. I let my shame swallow me whole. Let the panic win. Let the guilt of cheating, of crossing a line, of feeling something I didn’t understand, bury me so deep I couldn’t even send a goddamn message to the one person I actually wanted to talk to.
It was… a lot.
Too much.
Because now, even if Ididmessage him, even if I said all the right things and begged for a do-over, I don’t know if I could handle whatever answer he gave me.
The rejection would ruin me.
And I don’t want to be that guy.
We getto the hotel late in the evening and I feel fucking exhausted.
Of course, for me, it’salsoreally nice being next to Hughie the whole way. He’s all quiet company and zero pressure to talk.I think it’s a goalie thing because he needs that quiet to just focus and prepare for our upcoming games.
And while we were on that bus I made a decision. A stupid, terrifying, possibly idiotic decision.
I was going to talk to Jacob.
I decided that I was going to apologize. Really apologize.
I’m attracted to him in a brutally, distractingly, painfully real way. He’s smart and funny and warm. He’s really a great man and I know that. Honestly, he’s probably one of the nicest people I know.
But I also know that I don’t deserve forgiveness for how I ran away and then ignored him.
So I resolve that I’m going to apologize and just… be his friend. Because that’s something I can hopefully handle without ruining everything.
