Page 107 of Blindside Me
Delete.
My thumb hovers over the screen. What can I possibly say that makes this right? That explains how hearing Roman call her “damaged goods” made something snap inside me. That I couldn’t stop myself because all I could think was that he’d hurt her before, and I couldn’t bear the thought of him hurting her again?
How do I tell her I’m terrified that I’m not the person she thinks I am?
I set the phone down, screen dark. The silence between us grows with every passing minute.
“She looked pale as hell leaving the arena,” someone says behind me. I don’t turn to see who, but my jaw locks tight. They could be talking about anyone.
“Wonder if Coach is gonna suspend him,” another voice adds.
“Worth it though, right? Beaulier’s been asking for it all season.”
My knuckles ache as I clench my fist under the bar. They don’t know shit about worth. About what it costs. Not just my spot on the team, maybe the whole season, but Jade’s trust.
The look on her face as they dragged me off the ice replays in high definition behind my eyes. Shock. Fear. Maybe disgust.
I grip the edge of the bar so hard my knuckles go pale again. If I’m just another Klaas man, hot-tempered, reckless, selfish, then maybe Roman was right. Maybe I don’t get to have someone like Jade.
Blake slides onto the stool next to me, his own drink untouched. “Coach decide anything?”
I shake my head, eyes fixed on the bar top. “Suspended until the NCAA’s decision.”
“You’re looking at a three-game suspension, minimum.” He keeps his voice neutral, captain mode engaged. “But the way Beaulier was running his mouth … any of us might’ve done the same.”
It’s a lie, but a kind one. None of them would have lost it like I did. They have control. I thought I did too, until tonight.
“You’ve got more texts coming in,” Blake nods at my phone, lighting up with notifications. “Might want to answer them.”
I flip the phone over. “It’s nothing.”
“Is it Jade?”
My head snaps up at her name. Blake’s eyes are steady, seeing too much.
“Look,” he says, lowering his voice, “whatever Beaulier said?—”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Fine. But Jade does. She deserves to know why you went nuclear.”
I stare at the wall of liquor bottles behind the bar, each one catching light like tiny explosives. “She doesn’t need my shit.”
“That’s not your decision to make.”
“Trust me,” I mutter, “she’s better off without someone who?—”
“Someone who what? Cares enough to stand up for her?”
“Someone who can’t control himself.” The confession burns worse than the whiskey. “Someone who’s one bad moment away from becoming his old man.”
Blake leans back, tipping his head to the side, but doesn’t ask any questions. I wouldn’t spill the family secrets anyway. No one here knows the whole story. They don’t know about Dad’s rages, not the full extent anyway. About Jake following the same path until that fateful night. Or about my promise to never bethatperson.
A promise I broke tonight on center ice with hundreds watching.
I recheck my phone. Jade still hasn’t sent another text. Maybe she’s done trying.
Can’t blame her. I’m a walking red flag. My own mother couldn’t stick around, and she gave birth to me. Why would Jade be any different?
