Of course she isn’t.
I made damn sure of that in the last twenty-four hours.
The plane takes off and I shove in my Airpods, keeping my eyes glued to the dark carpet.
Then I spend the entire flight trying to forget about New York.
About Carrington.
The look on Tori’s face when I walked away.
And how much it fucking hurts being here without her.
We finally land in Driftwood Cove and everyone scatters like pinballs, heading in their own directions. I grab a ride to the condos with Morrison, trying my hardest to block out most of the conversation. He rants about his kid sister coming to town, needing to stay with him for a while until she gets her feet back under her. I miss the details and I don’t really care.
I’m too wrapped up in my own shit to worry about his.
“Thanks for the ride.” I shoot him a wave and grab my luggage from the trunk, the Florida sun warm on my face.
Normally, I’d appreciate the chance to catch a tan.
Today, the rays feel too bright.
I duck into the air-conditioned lobby of the condo and jam the elevator button. Ride up to my floor solo.
The last time I was in this elevator I was with Tori.
A dull ache thuds in my chest, my head pounding. The doors slide open and I trudge down the hall to my place.
Unlocking the door, I drop my gear on the floor in thedark living room. Take a shaky inhale and catch a whiff of Tori’s floral perfume still lingering in the air.
The ache in my chest intensifies and I can’t catch my breath.
I need to get out of here.
Tapping out a quick text, I grab my keys from the counter and jog out of the condo.
“Bennett. Come in.” Dr. Sparks steps aside and I rush into her office before I change my mind. She closes the door and the cool air winds around me, the clock ticking quietly in the serene space.
I don’t sit.
I’m too amped for that. Instead, I pace the floor. She settles into her chair and waits for me to speak.
My throat’s tight as I take a shuddery breath, exhale in one loud puff.
“I fucked up.” The words come out fast and low. Like saying them quickly can somehow make everything disappear.
She folds her hands in her lap, peering at me over her glasses. “How so?”
“You saw the game. I missed an easy shot. Then got a two-minute penalty and the team never recovered.”
“You missed a shot. I’m certain you miss shots every game.”
I bite at the inside of my cheek, heat flaming my face. “Yeah. But this shot mattered more.”
“Because…” Dr. Sparks lets the word hang in the air.
“Because we were in New York. We had something toprove. Coach told us to play the best hockey of our life. And I didn’t.”
