Page 100 of Nodus Tollens
Me: I’ll be the one wearing number 11 and attacking you with kisses when I get to see you after the game.
I rushed out of there quicker than ever, or as quick as I could anyway. With hair now freshly wind-blown and looking like a mass of knots, I tried running my fingers through the tangles as I drove with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on my head. I was a good fifteen minutes away from the arena, so I drove way faster than I should have. Especially with only one hand on the wheel when I wasn’t the best driver to begin with. Luckily, twelve minutes and one tire off the road later, I had finally pulled into the packed parking lot. Cars were everywhere, and a cloud of panic swept over me. At two miles an hour, I scoured every square inch of the parking lot. I thought I had found a couple empty spots, but right when I turned in, I saw a motorcycle, then a smart car, and finally, a scooter sat in those spots.
With a groan, I felt like I could hear the time ticking by. The further to the back of the lot I went, the more I began to feel like a failure. A failure as a girlfriend. A failure as someone who should be there for him. I felt more annoyed and irritated than anything. The need to bash my palms against the steering wheel assaulted my thoughts but then, finally, a miracle happened, and my heart hammered back to life.
An empty spot.
I whipped my car into the parking spot and threw it into park. Then, with one last hair adjustment, I placed a black baseball cap over my head and rushed out into the cool autumn air. From where I stood, the arena appeared miles away. On foot, it looked like it would take at least thirty minutes to even get to the front entrance. Luckily, I sucked at math and was way off on my calculations because it didn’t take too long to get inside. When I did, I frantically rushed through the ticket line and beelined it toward the stadium. My heart jumped and leaped at the thought of seeing Hayes. There was something about seeing him decked out in all his hockey gear that made me swoon, but more so, I couldn’t wait to catch that dimpled smile.
I had made it. Even if there were only minutes or seconds left in the game, I still had fucking made it.
I waited until the puck wasn’t in play before I made my way down the bleachers. I felt like all eyes were on me, judging, staring, watching, but with a deep exhale, I blocked them out. Eyes on the ice, I searched for the number eleven. With each step closer, I scoured the rink until finally, my stare landed on a single player inside what looked like a box. An enclosed square of glass that made the person inside appear blocked off from the rest of his team. At first, it didn’t register. I just assumed that Hayes wasn’t the one in there, but when my eyes locked on the number eleven, my heart sank. Luckily, I was given a lesson in hockey 101 by Kate, otherwise, I wouldn’t have questioned or known why he was in there. She had informed me that Hayes was one of the only guys who was rarely ever sent to the penalty box. He never fought. He never put himself in positions that would get him sent there, so that’s when I knew something had to be wrong.
I slowed my steps, taking in his slumped posture and his dropped head. Though I couldn’t see his face with his back facing me, I knew immediately something was off. The need to rush down to him and throw my arms around his neck overwhelmed me, but with the glass separating us, I knew I couldn’t. So, instead, I did the only thing I could do. With confident steps, I headed straight toward Hayes. I watched in horror and disgust as fans berated him with words, smacking the glass behind him as if he were some sort of trapped animal. He didn’t flinch or make any sudden movement by the comments. Instead, he remained deathly still. His wide shoulder blades raised with each heavy breath he took, almost like he was seconds from breaking. My heart shattered just watching him. I’ve never seen him look so defeated, and it scared me. The Hayes Decker I knew was pure sunshine all the time. Always smiling and always happy, he reminded me of the sun, where I was the moon.
Without him, there was no light.
To anyone who knew him, he was the brightest light in the world, and I only prayed I wouldn’t be the one to dim him.
As the thought ran through my head, I didn’t realize that I was finally at the bottom of the stands. I was just behind Hayes, and I stopped. My feet halted, and I just stared at the man in front of me who had my heart.
God, I loved him.
It was so easy to love him, too. So easy that even just standing here, I felt myself fall even deeper.
I began to look him over, up and down, and that’s when I noticed the splash of blood on the side of his arm. My breathing seized for a moment as panic and alarm tore through me.
Did he get into a fight?
And please tell me that isn’t his blood…
Coming up with reasons as to why he would get into a fight at all crept its way into my head. I couldn’t think of a solid reason until it hit me like a sack of bricks.
Was it my fault that he was stuck in there? Was he worried about my appointment? Did he notice I wasn’t here yet and get upset? Whatever the reason caused me to jump forward and tap on the glass. With everyone else messing with him and slamming their palms to get his attention, it was unlikely that he would turn around, but I kept tapping. Small, gentle taps, unlike the others.
“Good luck getting his attention.” A girl beside me joked and turned her head toward her friends, and they all laughed together.
Come on, baby…turn around.
As if he had heard my thoughts, his head slowly shifted to the side. I noticed his bloody nose and gasped.
Dammit, Hayes.
I dropped my hand, and just as I did, he finally turned his head the rest of the way until our eyes caught one another’s. He didn’t react at first. Instead, he just kept his stare firmly on me with his chin resting on his shoulder blade. Crusted-over blood covered just below his nose, and he had some spattered across his chin. His usual bright, mossy eyes appeared almost dull. Like the hue had been lowered, and all the happiness had been sucked out of him. He looked miserable. He looked broken.
So that’s when I lifted my palm. Slowly, I lifted it from my side, and Hayes caught the movement and followed my hand with eyes I couldn’t read. An expression I couldn’t decipher was present across his handsome face, and I tried my hardest to read him. But that’s when I noticed a tear. A single, barely-there tear formed in the corner of his eye and leisurely began to float down his cheek.
Oh. My. God.
My fucking heart.
The second my palm connected with the glass, his eyes closed with a relieved sigh. His shoulders dropped dramatically as if a heavy weight had been lifted off them. That’s when it hit me. Watching the comfort of my presence wash over him, I just knew that this was my fault. The fight, the blood. He couldn’t concentrate on the game because he was too worried about me. I already anticipated some worry from him, but nothing like this. I didn’t think it would affect him as much as it did. The appointment was a routine one. A monthly checkup I’ve been going to since I was a young girl, but to him, it was the uncertainty of what could happen in that short time I was gone. Where mostly I had the confidence that everything was going to be okay, he didn’t. He didn’t know the procedure or what transpired when I was in the exam room. He didn’t know about the severity of my condition, and yet, now, I was beginning to see that he understood. Maybe it had taken longer for it to sink in that this wasn’t just a normal doctor’s appointment for a simple illness or checkup. For me, it was life or death. Though I had always left with good news, there was always a possibility that one day I would receive bad news. I tried not to dwell on that.
But seeing Hayes in such a terrified state made me break out in panic.
Was he starting to realize that his decision to be with me would be too hard and too painful? Was he already regretting us?
Questions ran through my mind as my breathing took a turn for the worse. In and out, I tried to steady my breaths, but nothing seemed to be working when all I could think about was the fear that I had seen in his eyes. But then, ever so slowly, something shifted in him. His tear was wiped away, and those dimples I never wanted to live without stared straight at me with a large smile spread across his face. A gloved hand had lifted, and as if every sound had been sucked out of the crowded arena, his palm covered mine. Though our hands weren’t touching, I swear I could feel him. The energy between us was too potent not too feel something, and with a grin, I blew him a kiss.
