Page 10 of Cross-Check

“It won’t be an issue, Coach,” I tell him, my tongue feeling like lead.

Coach nods but looks at me like I’m full of shit, and we both know it.

“Good to hear it. Now get the fuck off my ice. I don’t want to see any of you until five a.m.”

Shit.

I can’t let my shit with Clayton take the team from me. I just can’t. This is all I have and all I’ve ever wanted. I can let the shit between us go, right? Fake it until you make it and all that bullshit.

The guys and I skate off the ice and head toward the locker room. I keep my head down and stick to myself. Once in the locker room, I strip out of my gear and head for the shower. As the water pelts down on my face, my mind goes crazy, thinking of what-ifs. It all becomes too much, and it starts to become hard to breathe.

What the fuck is happening to me?

Why is this happening?

Shit, I need to get out of here.

I don’t even double-check that I rinsed all the soap off of me before I’m sprinting out of the shower and heading to my locker. Reaching inside, I grab my clothes and get dressed like the devil is chasing me.

“Hey man, are you okay?” Wyatt asks when I stumble while slipping on my shoes.

“Yeah, fine,” I say breathlessly.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Are you sure?” he asks again.

I ignore him and grab my bag. Turning, I head for the door as my vision starts to tunnel and it becomes harder to breathe.

Air. I need fucking air.

As soon as I rip open the door and step outside, I take a deep breath, or as deep of one as I can get. I hear someone say something, but I don’t pay attention to them. I put my hands on my knees and concentrate on sucking in as much air as possible.

Chuck Taylors with smiley faces on the tips come into my view, and a hand comes down on my shoulder. Just barely do I stop myself from flinching.

“Hey, hotshot, you good?”

Turning my head, I see Cora looking down at me with concern.

“I’m fine.” I clear my throat and stand. “What are you doing here?”

She shifts from foot to foot. “I was passing by and saw you. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Sorry for worrying you. Practice was just a bitch and harder than I expected it to be.”

Cora nods, but the crease between her eyebrows tells me she’s not buying my lie, not that I blame her. Grace always said my face can’t hide shit and speaks for itself.

“That makes sense. Want to talk about it?”

Do I? Yeah, I do, but right now the air feels like it has been sucked out of my lungs.

“I can’t,” I tell her.

She must see something in my eyes because hers soften. “Okay. That’s okay. Maybe you can walk with me for a minute?”

I nod, falling into step beside her as she walks. After a moment, my breathing becomes easier.

“Do you want me to walk you to class or home?”

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