Ellie’s eyes squint again and she gives me a slow nod, probably assuming this is some rival. In a way, he is. Boston is one of our longest rivalries to date, and we have both been on our respective teams for the past several years.
“Who were you playing?”
I’ve really come to enjoy Ellie’s indifference to my team and job, but right now I wish she already knew the answer to this question.Dammit. I really hope she isn’t mad, or worse, sad.
“Boston,” I tell her carefully, watching her face.
I watch her mouth silently repeat the word before her mind makes the connection and her body goes inhumanly still on top of mine. I grip her waist a little tighter and try to anticipate any reaction. She gets to feel however she wants, I remind myself. I made this a little bit about me and I’ll face whatever consequences I need to.
Ellie moves to get up so I release my hands from her and try not to frown at the direction this could be going.Fuck. I would literally do anything not to upset her. Too little, too late, I tell myself. But honestly? I can’t bring myself to say I regret hurting that fucker.
She gets to her feet and goes to her room, surprisingly not shutting the door behind her. Okay, that’s a good sign, right? I hear her rummaging around, but can’t tell what she’s doing from here. I’m about to get up to follow her when she reappears and starts making her way back to me. She’s got her laptop secured against her chest by her arms in the shape of an X.
Ellie sits next to me on the couch and crosses her legs before she sets her laptop on them. She opens it and pulls upan internet browser.What is she doing?I watch her navigate to Google as a sinking feeling takes hold. She searches my name and today’s date and hits enter.Ah, shit. There’s already multiple pages with video clips of the fight. I cringe and brace myself to watch what happened from the viewers’ perspective.
From Ellie’s perspective.
She clicks the one with the most views and straightens her spine as it starts. It’s not hard to see why I got ejected—game misconducts like that aren’t tolerated for a reason, even when they aren’t fully on purpose. Someone could get seriously hurt.
Unfortunately for me it’s plainly obvious I didn’taccidentallythrash him in the chest with my stick. It’s also clear after the gloves were dropped that I wanted to pummel the shit out of him.And I did. I don’t feel any satisfaction though. I’m mad at myself for being a cliché. And he should be behind bars, in my mind, not available for a beating while playing at a professional hockey game. I feel the rage coming back and close my eyes to breathe through it. I open them when Ellie squeezes the hand resting on my leg.
I look over at her to see her eyes on mine.
“It looks like you were trying to kill him,” she says quietly.
I continue to look at her and decide not to reply.
“Are you in trouble? Beyond getting ejected or whatever?”
“Probably. I’m sure I’ll find out soon,” I answer with a shrug way more casual than I feel. I’m actually one hundred percent expecting a call about a suspension or fine, which is going to sting with so few games left to qualify for the playoffs. Thankfully it looked like we were going to win tonight by the time I left, but if I miss a game and we lose, it’s going to be difficult to not blame myself. I still can’t quite bring myself to regret what I did though, even now. “I’m sorry if this means more stories come out, Ellie.”
She ignores my apology. “Has that ever happened before?”
I exhale and shake my head, dropping a quick kiss to the top of her head. She always smells so good. So comforting. I pull back and look to her face again.
Ellie seems to be thinking something over. She opens her mouth to talk and then closes it. It’s not often I see her unsure of what to say.
“Did it make you feel better? Hitting him?”
Her hesitant voice strikes something deep inside me. Did it make me feel better? Honestly, I don’t know. I don’t think anything could actually make it better.
“Ellie.” I let out a breath. “I’m sorry I made this about me. It was like I didn’t have control over myself in that moment. I just saw red.” I pause and link my fingers with her hand that’s still loosely holding mine. “Nothing is going to make it better. He just deserved it. So much worse, really.”
She nods and squeezes our linked fingers. I think about what she asked and realize she might not be asking that question for my sake. She might be asking it forhers.
There’s something so heartbreaking about the idea of Ellie taking her anger out with those tiny fists. I’d hold his hands behind his back and kick him to his knees for her if I thought hitting him would make her feel better.
Right now though, I need to answer her question. I try to choose my words carefully, thinking about how each one will come across. “It felt like…I needed to. Like I was in a position to punish him in a setting that wouldn’t land me in jail. I used my job as an excuse, Ellie. But it didn’t feel good and I don’t feel better, no.”
Ellie has been facing forward, but now looks at me.
“I think ifyouhurt him, you might feel better for a second, baby, and then you’d get in trouble and he wouldn’t and you’d realize everything is still…the same,” I tell her.
Ellie’s lip quivers and I think I feel my heart crack under my ribs. She faces forward, looking at the TV with nothing on it. “You’re right,” she whispers on a subtle nod.
I pull her hand farther over and squeeze it between both of mine. Bringing our joined hands up to my chest, I press them over my heart where it still feels like there’s physical pain.
Ellie turns and I watch her throat bob as she looks at our hands and then up at my face. “Thanks for hitting him,” she says. “But no more getting in trouble for me.”
