“You have two options, Alex,” he begins, opening his eyes and staring down at me like I am truly beneath him. He holds up one finger. “Option one: you stay with me, because you can not be trusted on your own.” His lips pull back in a snarl. “And before you even think about it,no, we willnotbe sleeping together.”
He lets out a heavy breath and adds, “I’ll work with you both here and at home until you’re stable. I will get you back on the ice—where you belong.”
“Okay,” I say quietly, swallowing hard.
He holds up two fingers. “Or option two. You keep fucking your life up and ruining your body beyond repair. And you’re going to do it all by yourself—alone. I’ll assign you to someone else, because I will not be a part of your self-destructive bullshit.”
His voice is harsh and his shoulders tense.
This is not the professional Mack I’ve been seeing. This is someone who cares on a personal level. And suddenly the air thins and I feel like I can’t breathe. The way he’s looking at me, his bitter tone, his shaking fist.
I feel a panic attack coming on. Shit. I need to get the fuck out of here before I self-destruct.
I knew I shouldn’t have come here today. I should not have come home to Ashbourne at all.
“Alex…”
I’m giving you to the count of three, Alex. Vance’s arrogant voice clouds me like a fog.
My breath catches and I close my eyes, trying to force the memories away.
I drop to my knees, hands sliding over my thighs as I keep my head bowed low.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“I made you, Alex. You’re nothing withoutme,” Vance hisses, shoving me face-first to the floor.
My breaths are rapid as I try to hold on, try to ground myself, as the words from the past assault me.
“You owe everything to me.”
I get up, needing to get the hell out of here.
“Fine,” I say. “I knew this would happen, anyway.”
“Alex…” Mack’s voice elevates.
“Enjoy your fucking donuts,” I hiss, my voice breaking as I head for the door.
“Go ahead. Walk out that door, Alex. Be the guy everyone thinks you are. Prove all those assholes right.” His voice is cold. Harsh. “The Alex I knew isn’t a quitter, but maybe I don’t know you at all.”
I stop, my hand poised above the doorknob. I close my eyes, feeling the onslaught of the tears.
Every part of me wants to turn around. But I can’t.
All I can do is walk through the door, my knee screaming at me in pain.
When I get in my car, I scream out loud. I hit the steering wheel, bumping the radio and it goes off, connecting to my Spotify.
Some song comes on that I don’t know, some metal song that screams about hope being a different kind of pain. I turn it up because it feels on point.
I drive without direction. Numb. I drive until I hit the rink parking lot and turn the car off. I sit therefor hours. I stare up at the ceiling, my duffel bag out of my peripheral vision, pulling my attention.
I think about Mack’s words.
He called meself-destructive.
I look out the window, watching the sun set over the trees, and I can’t help but think about how pretty it is.
