Vanessa nodded slowly. “You’ve been there a lot lately.”
“I know.”
She leaned forward and kissed me. Soft. Familiar. A little careful.
I kissed her back because she was my girlfriend and she was trying and I was not a monster, even if I was starting to feel like one. Her mouth was warm. Her hand rested against my jaw. I waited for my body to catch up to the moment.
It didn’t.
Not the way it should have.
When she pulled back, there was no accusation in her face. Just a kind of tired knowledge I didn’t want to look at.
“I’m going to head home,” she said. “Early morning.”
“You can stay.”
“I know.”
But she didn’t.
After she left, my apartment felt too quiet and too full at the same time. The candle she’d lit was still burning on the counter, making everything smell like cedar and smoke. I blew it out, then stood there in the dark kitchen with my phone in my hand.
Do not text him.
I put the phone down.
Walked to the bedroom.
Came back because I forgot to lock the door.
Picked up the phone.
Put it down again.
Opened the fridge. Closed it. Checked tomorrow’s schedule even though I already knew it. Seven a.m. optional skate. Team meeting at nine. Media later. I had it. I knew it.
I opened Declan’s thread.
Last message from him: Goodnight, Holloway.
My thumb moved before my good sense could tackle it.
On the low support drill today, when their weak-side D cheats up, do you want me holding lower longer or coming across once Lowell secures possession?
I stared at it.
Hockey question. Legitimate. Boring, even.
I sent it.
The regret was instant and useless.
I paced. Sat. Stood again. Took three drinks of water too fast and almost choked. Checked my phone. No reply. Checked again thirteen seconds later because apparently I thought time worked differently if I bullied it.
Finally, the screen lit.
Be at the rink at seven.
