Page 20 of A Scoring Chance

Okay. This is your last chance. If you don’t answer in the next thirty seconds, I’m coming into the locker room.

Shit. How long have I been sitting here in the dark, spiraling because of some random thing my high school hockey coachsaid in passing? Any normal human would have smiled and said thanks, but I’m sitting in the locker room in the dark. “You know you can’t just barge in here like that. This is the men’s locker room you know.”

I push to my feet, pain shooting through my leg reminding me that I probably came back here for ice. I creep around the locker room. It's not much different from an NHL locker room, although a little smaller. There are rows of lockers covering the outside wall for the kids to store their things during games, each one colored black with a green plate in the center for the managers to write the players' names on game day. Each player brings their personal gear home, but their jerseys will hang in the lockers, ready for them to hit the ice on game day.

“I shouted your name before I even came in here. I’m loud, so if there was someone else in here, which I already knew there wasn’t, they’d have covered up anything important.”

Alise pulls her headphones off, allowing them to rest around her neck as she comes toward me. Just by the look in her eyes, I know she’s going to ask something I don’t want to answer. “Did you apologize to Ramona for me? I didn’t mean to make her worry.”

Alise’s eyes widen in horror. “Fuck! I forgot about Ramona!” She rushes past me toward the door, but I grip her wrist, pulling her to a stop. “Coop. I need you to let me the fuck go right this minute.”

“Not until you explain to me what’s going on. Why are you so worried about her?”

None of this makes sense. I understand being upset that your friend disappeared on you. She’s probably a little pissed at me because I told her I’d be back out there in a minute. I intended to go back out there, but my brief trip down memory lane had other ideas. Either way, why would Alise coming to find me without telling Ramona be a big deal?

“Because I left her. I left her because I was worried about you, and she had no idea.” Alise pulls her arm from my grasp and storms toward the door, but I follow her. I just want to know what’s going on. The last thing I want to do is hurt someone with my bullshit, especially someone I barely know.

“I don’t understand. Text her and tell her you're in the locker room. We can head right back out there and explain what happened.”

Alise barges out of the locker room door, practically sprinting down the hallway toward the exit to the front part of the rink.

“You don’t get it,” Alise huffs before spinning around, poking me in the chest with her finger. “She literally can’t deal with people disappearing or leaving‌ without saying goodbye. She did it once and, well, let's just say she hasn’t recovered.”

“Recovered.” I recoil, trying to make sense of what Alise is telling me. I hurt Beauty just by not coming back on the ice? This beauty who, by looking at me, made me think of what life could be like after hockey. Did I ruin this, too, without even knowing it? I should’ve known I wouldn’t be allowed to have anything. I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve her because that’s what I do: destroy things. “What can I do?”

“Nothing,” she says before wrapping her arms around me. “There’s no point in you going out to the meeting. It's probably over by now. Just head home and text me when you get there.”

After planting a gentle kiss on my cheek, she sprints back toward the bleachers. I would love nothing more than to head back out to the bleachers with her and make sure Ramona is okay. Then I’ll apologize to Coach James for bailing on the meeting and figure out a way to make it up to him. But I turn in the opposite direction and head out the door into the night.

No matter how badly I want to make things better for everyone, I always ruin things. I need to stick to playing hockey and taking care of my family. That’s been my purpose since thenight we lost Dad. I’m so close to making everything perfect again.

Chapter Seven

Cooper

Idrove back to my childhood home on autopilot. Yes, I said what I said. The last thing I remember is climbing into my truck and pulling out of The Chill Zone parking lot, pointing my truck toward home. Then the next thing I know, I’m sitting in the driveway, staring out the window. That’s not a good sign. I can disassociate with the best of them, but I’ve never done it while I was driving before. I could have killed someone or even myself. One more check in the column for Cooper Hendrix being an absolute shit human.

I climb out of my truck, slamming the door shut behind me. Anger is boiling inside me like it used to when I was younger, right after Dad passed. I didn’t have anyone to talk to or to listen to everything I was dealing with. The last thing Dad said to me was that he trusted me to take care of our family, and that’s what I needed to do. I need to be there to support my mother and help her with my brothers. When my mom got a second job, it was on me to make sure I helped them do their homework, have dinner, and go to bed on time. I was the man of the house, the center of the family, and I needed to make sure everyone thrived, even if it was at my expense.

“Cooper, is that you?” Momma asks from her favorite spot on the couch. “I thought there was practice tonight.”

I’m not about to tell her what happened. She’d want to talk about it like she always does, and I don’t have the patience for it. I need to calm down and center myself again or our conversation won’t end well. I’ve said so many things to her, horrible things, when I was lashing out, wanting to make everyone hurt as badly as I did. But each time I did, the pain and anger got worse.

“Coach James cut practice short since it was the first one, and there was a parents' meeting,” I grumble, heading right past her and moving toward the back of the house. “He had me demonstrate a lot of the drills today, so I stink. Gonna hop in the shower.”

I don’t wait for her response before I slam the door shut and reach into the shower to turn the water all the way up. Steam fills the small bathroom as I shuck my clothes and climb in.

It's all my fault. Everything is always my fault.

Why did everything have to turn out like this? Why does everything I touch get destroyed? Hell, I didn’t really have Ramona, but I dared to think that there could be something between us. Something more than just some light flirting at The Chill Zone when she brings her son to practice. But what the hell was I thinking?

Resting my head against the cold tile wall of the shower, I let the water roll over my skin. I should feel something as it burns my skin, but I feel nothing. Everything has gone numb as I try to bring myself back from the edge. It shouldn’t be this hard. Momma made Beau, Cole, and me go to therapy for months. They taught us breathing and how to center ourselves and get control of our feelings before they got out of control.

My fault. My fault. My fault.

I’m so far past out of control. I’m drowning in my feelings. The anger, regret, and sorrow. I want to claw at my chestand find some way to let these emotions free. I feel like I’m suffocating, choking on them.

My fault. My fault. My fault.

---