Page 57 of One More Time

He had sex with me.

I was hesitant to call it making love because we weren’t there yet, right? In the midst of my mental spiral, the door opened and Jamie leaned against the frame doing what he did best: reading right through my bullshit.

“What did he do?” Jamie asked, knowing me well enough to pinpoint a certain guy as the cause of my outburst.

“He didn’t do anything.”

“And I suppose that’s the problem? One moment he’s picking you up from the airport, comforting you, holding your hand and, calling you baby—now he’s AWOL?”

Ding Ding Ding.

I only nodded in response.

“He did go running out of here like a kangaroo with his tail on fire,” Jamie said. “Something happen?”

I think back how he was wrapped around me one second, and stiff as a board the next—all because of a phone call.

“He got a call from his dad.”

Jamie frowned. “He not a good guy?”

“Hunter’s pretty private about his home life. All I know is that his dad practically has his whole life planned out for him.”

Jamie hummed, and in that moment I realized that I wasn’t the only one who had to grow up quick.

“And that annoys you,” Jamie deduced, breaking me from my thoughts. “You’ve been vulnerable with him, and now he won’t do to the same for you.”

“Okay Dr. Freud—yes it annoys me. We haven’t established what we are or where we want to go with… whatever this is. But he hightails it out of here, goes radio silent all day, then sends me a vague message. It just rubs me the wrong way.”

Jamie barked out a laugh. “And they say girls are difficult.”

“Emotions are difficult,” I grumble.

Jamie nodded and pushed off the door. “Let’s eat. I’ll even watch hockey tapes with you. I am bored out of my brain.”

I didn’t miss the way Hunter avoided me as I entered the team gym, or how he ducked into the toilets to change instead of doing so at his stall. The other guys hadn’t arrived yet, but I was eager to hit the ice after having some time off. Being away was the longest week of my life. As I began to change, the Coach’s gruff voice echoed through the locker room’s open door as he poked his head in. “Riley, got a minute?”

I nodded and followed him to his office, shoving my hands into my hoodie as if it could provide some sense of comfort. I had a feeling this was going to be a difficult conversation.

I sat in the seat he indicated while he took his desk chair. There was a beat of silence as he looked me over, almost as if I’d crumble right before his eyes. Been there, done that, sir..

Logistically, I knew that wasn’t how grief worked, and the guilt of moving on weighed heavily on my chest. But this was what Mum wanted. I needed to do this.

“How are you, Tyler?” There it was: the magic question..

I wondered if I looked as bad as I felt, if my exhaustion was showing on my face.

“As good as can be, sir. I’m more than okay to still play if that’s what you’re asking.”

The smile he responded with was full of sympathy—maybe even pity—and I didn’t like it. I didn’t want to be seen as the boy who just lost a parent. I just wanted to be Tyler Riley: the hockey player.

“It’s okay if you’re not. We have a game in two days, and I think it might be best to have you as a healthy scratch. It’ll, give you some time—”

“No. Please, I need to be on that ice. This is what my mum would have wanted—she wanted me to play.”

I hated how my voice thickened, how my body vibrated as I fought to hold myself together.

Coach looked at me, really looked at me. I felt as if every detail of me was under intense examination.

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