Page 34 of Off Sides

Sitting up in the seat, I look around and find a small table to put my drink on while I eat my cookie, but of course my damn phone rings.

With a huff, I pull it from my pocket and groan at Brent’s stupid face.

“What?”

“Nice to talk to you too, ass.”

I sigh and wait. I know Mom called him. He’s the only one who could talk me down when the urge to fight kicked in. It didn’t always work, but he had a better chance than anyone else, especially since he knew the root cause of my issues.

I was in love with a girl I couldn’t save.

“Mom called,” he says, not beating around the bush. I appreciate that about him.

“Figured as much.” I shove a piece of my warm cookie into my mouth. “I’m fine.”

“I doubt that,” he scoffs but doesn’t push. Not yet.

I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. “I’m just in a bad mood. I’m allowed to be.”

“So you aren’t treading water in the deep end of the feelings pool over this hockey player walking away?”

I grit my teeth. “Fuck off.”

“Good. Just so we’re clear, you caught feelings like it was mono at an eighth-grade sleepover playing spin the bottle, and now that you can’t play with your favorite toy, you’re sulking.”

“For fuck’s sake, Brent. Stop.” I really don’t want to picture thirteen-year-olds making out.

He sighs and his tone is softer when he talks again. “It’s okay to have feelings for this guy.”

“You’re really stuck on the feelings, aren’t you?” My gut tightens and tears knot in my throat. “He’s not interested.”

The line goes silent for so long I pull it from my ear to check and see if the call dropped.

“Can you hear me?” I ask.

“Uh, yeah. That’s not the impression I got from him basically living in your room over break.” I can picture the confused expression on his face. While I’m my parents’ only biological child, this guy is my brother through and through. He knows everything about me, my ride or die.

I look around the coffee shop and there’s too many people in here for me to be comfortable having this conversation here.

“I can’t talk about it right now.”

“Fine, but I expect you to talk to me. Today.”

I huff but agree. It’ll probably be good for me to talk to someone but my instincts tell me to bury it. Feelings are dangerous.

“Look, I’m out right now. I’ll talk to you later.” I don’t want to do this right now. Or ever. I want Joey back and for him to promise he won’t ever leave me again. Right now, I feel like I’m drowning in anger. Or loneliness. Hopelessness. Feelings make you weak and I can’t be weak again. Never again.

12

Joey

Everything is falling apart.

I was the only one at tonight’s game that didn’t have my shit together. Oiler, Johnson, and Albrooke were on fire. Willis and Carmichael were a force to be reckoned with. Our goalie, Chris Austin, was killing it. Then there was me. Tripping over my own fucking skates, missing passes, passing to the wrong fucking team. I’m a joke.

The bite of cold cools my heated skin as I watch my teammate get carted off the ice. Carmichael is a tough bastard, so if he needed help up, he’s hurt bad. Fuck.

The crowd stands and claps in respect for Carmichael but my gaze goes to Albrooke. He looks like he’s going to be sick. The two of them fight during practice like they get off on it. Oiler and Johnson surround him and get him somewhat settled, but I can tell his head isn’t in the right place anymore.

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