Page 49 of Friendzone Hockey
Dirk knows it wasn’t nothing. I know it wasn’t nothing.
“It doesn’t matter, Dirk. This thing with Stacey is a fever dream, some last-minute regret.” And that’s the fucking truth. I think. Why won’t my heart stop pounding?
“Why are you fighting this so hard? You can have everything you’ve ever wanted.”
“You know why, Dirk. He …” I pull at my hair. It’s a feeling I can’t begin to explain. Born from rejection, from being told over and over why things wouldn’t work, from knowing that the reasons he didn’t want me in the first place still exist—will always exist. I’m not putting myself through the fucking hope just to get my heart smashed again. “I want to move forward with Syd if he’ll fucking let me after this shitshow.” My body shakes from trying to hold back tears. My lip trembles. “Do you have a problem with that?”
I’m sick of everyone tonight. I hope that keeps him off my back until I have a chance to figure things out for myself. I love my family, I even love that they can be overbearing, but it’s inconvenient when I want to think for a goddamn second.
“Okay, Dash. Okay,” he stresses. “What should I tell Hunter, though?”
“Please say you didn’t actually call him.”
“I actually called him, and you know how he gets.”
“Tell him everything’s fine.”
“Even if it’s not?”
“It will be,” I say.
But nothing’s fine. Nothing might be fine ever again.
Chapter
Nine
THEN
Off Season One - End of July
Stacey
Once I’ve seen them, I can’t unsee them. My mind goes to dark places. Someone else might mind their own business, but I’m not a minder of my own business, not when it’s the people I care about.
I wait till we’re alone and then I yank him to his feet, shoving the sleeve of his shirt up his arm.
“What the fuck is this, Dash?”
His arm’s lined with scratches deep enough they bled at some point. There are goddamn bite marks.
He shoves the sleeve right back down. “Chill, bro.”
“Don’t ‘chill bro’ me. Out with it, Dash, or I’m going straight to Travis.” Hockey season’s extra fucking exciting because this year, Dash is coming with me, but if he’s harming himself, he’s not going to training camp. Hell, I’ll check him into St. Paul’s Hospital myself.
“It’s the first time it’s happened. Pretty sure I did it in my sleep. I woke up like this,” he says.
“Then why are you hiding it?”
“Because I knew you and Dirk would go ballistic like you’re doing now.”
“I’m worried about you.”
“I’m worried about me, too, but what can I do about what happens in my sleep?”
“Wear long sleeves to bed.” Or fucking mittens. I have visions of shoving oven mitts on his hands if need be.
“It’s been hot.”
