Finn.
Fuck, I don’t want to do this shit.
But…I know what’s going to happen if I don’t.
So much pain it hurts to breathe.
So much grief the air in the house threatens to suffocate me.
So many regrets I can’t think straight.
So—
“Enough,” I whisper, skating to the bench and heading down the hall to the locker room. There are only a couple of minutes left in the game and my penalty’s longer than that. There’s no point in going to the box.
I’ll get undressed, get a headstart on cooling down so I can get the fuck out of here.
King tosses his glove at me when he comes into the locker room a little while later. “What the fuck are you doing?”
I throw it back at him. “Nothing.”
“Liar,” he mutters.
I ignore him and head for the showers.
Of course, he follows me all of a minute later. “You’re going to do it, aren’t you?”
I soap up my hands, scrub them over my body.
Someone laughs in the other room. But not King.
And sure as fuck not me.
“I’m showering, asshole,” I mutter. “Then I’m getting dressed and going home so I can sleep.”
“No,” he says, filling his palm with shampoo and rubbing it into his hair, the suds bubbling up, skating over his skin. “You’re going to go home and make the biggest mistake of your life.” He shoves his head under the water, scrubs his hands over his hair, rinsing it.
I hurry.
But unfortunately, I’m not done by the time he finishes with his hair.
“Yup, man.” He sighs. “I can see it on your face. You’re about to fuck up. Big time.”
I finish washing my body, crank off the shower, reach for my towel.
He grips my shoulder when I turn to go.
“Don’t—”
His fingers tighten. “Youdon’t.” He releases me. “Just don’t, man. You’re going to regret it.”
I just shake my head and walk out.
Because the second I stop moving, the reality of what I’m going to do…
No.
But I can’t stop picturing Finn’s face.
