Page 81 of Playing for Keeps

“At eleven at night, Emma?”

She shook her head, still patient but not missing the edge in my voice. “No, of course not. We went out for dinner and had some drinks afterwards. That’s all.”

“And you didn’t think to let me know? Didn’t think to text me back?!” I sounded pissed, and yeah, I was, but it was because I had been worried about her.

She frowned, confused. “Max, we weren’t supposed to meet up. And my battery died. Why are you trying to pick a fight? This doesn’t sound like you.”

“Because I had a shit day,” I said, louder than I wanted to. “And I needed you. And you weren’t there.”

She stared at me, taken aback, but I couldn’t stop. Not now.

“My chest’s been tight all day. Like, really tight. I tried to shake it off during the game, tried to just play and not think, but my head wouldn’t quiet down. Every time I messed up, I kept thinking – maybe this is how it’ll feel when you’re gone. Just… empty. Off. Like I’m out there trying to skate with only one skate.”

I ran my hand through my hair, my voice getting rough. “I know it sounds pathetic, but that’s just how it is. And tonight, when you didn’t answer–” I let out a shaky breath. “I went straight to the worst-case scenario. You, out there one day, building a life that doesn’t have me in it. And me checking my phone every five minutes like some damn teenager.”

The words kept coming, fast and raw. “I know it’s not fair. You don’t owe me anything. But I’m not used to needing people, Emma. I spent most of my life making sure I didn’t. And now I do. Now it’s you. And it scares the hell out of me.”

She looked at me then, and her eyes softened in a way that made my chest hurt. Pitiful, almost, like I was breakable. I hated that look. I didn’t want pity. But I couldn’t tell her that without making it worse, so I held it in and stood there with my jaw tight and my stomach in knots.

She was quiet for a while, looking at me like she was working up the nerve to say something she really didn’t want to say. When she did, her voice was barely above a whisper.

“Max… maybe we should take a break.”

She inhaled, almost like it hurt. “When you talk like this… it’s like you need something from me that I can’t give you.”

My whole body went hot, then cold. Panic gripped me. “Emma, don’t you dare,” I said in a low, urgent voice. “Don’t you try to end this now. I still have a few weeks with you. I’m not giving those up. So fuck that.”

She moved before I could spiral further, stepped right into me, and put her arms around my neck. No hesitation. She just held me like she could keep me from falling apart with her strength. And maybe she could. My arms went around her instantly, hard, fierce. I crushed her against me, not caring how desperate it felt, because I needed that closeness more than I needed air.

We didn’t move for a whole minute. For the first time all day, my chest felt better, just enough for me to breathe.

I managed to whisper into her hair, rough and low, “I’m sorry. For being a dick.”

She leaned back just enough to look at me. Her eyes were soft and steady, and her mouth was curved into a small smile. “That’s okay. Everyone’s allowed to be a dick sometimes.” She tilted her head, teasing just a little. “Even you.”

Despite everything, I laughed, a small, broken sound that felt like relief.

“Come on,” she said softly as she reached for her keys and put her arm around mine. “Let’s go inside.” She opened the door, nudged me through, and pointed to the couch. “Go and sit down.” And she looked at me with that calm authority she always had. “Do you want some tea?”

I smiled at that word. Tea. So her. “No, I’m fine.”

“Anything else?” she asked, her eyes warm and waiting.

“No, baby, I’m fine,” I said quickly.

“Okay. I’ll put the kettle on anyway. And change out of these work clothes. I’ll be right back.”

I leaned back into the cushions, my head against the couch. She had already calmed me down. Just being here, letting me in, and telling me to sit was enough to steady me – and that scared the hell out of me. If she could fix me this easily, what would it do to me if she left? I didn’t want to think about it. All I knew was that when she mentioned taking a break earlier, panic hit me like a fist to my chest. I couldn’t let that happen. Not with her. Not when she was the only thing in my life that felt right.

A few minutes later, she came back with her hair down, tea steaming in her hands, and curled up next to me on the couch. “Okay. What happened today?”

I sighed and rubbed my jaw. “The game was a disaster. Everything went wrong. I missed an easy block because I wasn’t paying attention, and it cost us a goal. Later I got caught out of position, which led to another. We have a good chance of making the playoffs, but nights like this? Too many, and it’ll all slip away. And the worst part is that I can’t stop blaming myself. Because I was distracted.”

“By what?” she asked gently.

I let out a big breath. “My mom called today. I don’t usually pick up, but I wasn’t paying attention and all of a sudden I was on the phone with her. She’s been asking Grace to tell me she wants to meet. She says she’s been going to therapy and that her therapist thinks it would help if she talked to me. And I… I freaked out. I made up an excuse about being busy and hung up. And then I felt shit about it all night.”

“Do you want to meet her?” Emma asked carefully.