Page 61 of Puck to the Heart
I knew what he meant. Grappling with scars left by someone, countless someones if I interpreted correctly, was my specialty. Still, years later, I didn’t know how to fully unleasheverypart of myself.
Instead, I sat with him in silence, watching the sun rise in the distance.
Why I dumpedall of my baggage on Olivia the night before I’d be heading out for a few days was beyond me. Months ago, I’d been selected as an alternate for the U.S. team in a mid-season international hockey showcase, never expecting to get called up. The original defender came down with the flu last minute, and I flew out to replace him. Being invited to the team was an honor I never expected, though the twitch around Coach Olsen’s mouth made me wonder if he’d had a hand in my nomination. When we landed, I walked around with my suitcase for an hour, waiting for someone to tell me there’d been a mistake, there was no place for womanizing aggros like me.
But I checked in with the manager, met the coaches and staff, and checked into my hotel room with no problem. People smiled at me, no one grabbed me, and the photos were all respectful.
I wanted to tell Olivia about this new development, but something kept me from texting her. I’d tell her when I got back.
Maybe.
But the look on her face the last time I saw her was indecipherable. She’d given me a chaste kiss on the cheek and left.
As much as I needed her to about my past, I still wished I had better timing. Spending time apart after dropping an emotional truth bomb left me wondering how she’d taken it, especially with her subdued reactions before she left for work.
I only had time to text her a handful of times while I was gone, and all of them were inane to say the least. And her responses left me even more confused.
We just landed and I’m super jet lagged, but I bet you’re not even up yet. I hope you have a good day, Barnes.
Olivia
(two hours later)
Thanks! You too.
The next day:
There is so much press for this exhibition and I am OVER. IT.
Haha that really sucks.
Later that night:
Chicago pizza > New York pizza
I think all pizza is valid.
Okay, that last one was a reach, but I wanted to getsomethingfrom her other than rote responses. But where she’d usually be talkative and carry on a conversation, she let things drop. Everything was stilted in a way it hadn’t been since we’d met, and I couldn’t help but wonder if she was disgusted by me or if she felt sorry for me. Maybe both.
Trying to keep my cool for the exhibition, trying to learn how to be captain without having the opportunity to do so, trying to still be a good player and teammate, trying not to let my personal shit weigh on my relationship with Olivia. All of it hovered over me like my own personal shitstorm.
Even the few nights I spent away from her reminded me how much I hated sleeping alone. Exhaustion and stress certainly weren’t helping matters.
Nana’s constant advice and running commentary played in my head like my conscience, and it had me buying preemptive apology foliage, knowing I’d probably be unable to keep the snap out of my words whenever I saw her again.
The lack of contact made it harder to keep my temper in check, which was one of the more important tasks on my to-do list. In my first practice back, Allen did his best to be a showboating dick, cutting off my assists and slamming me into the boards more than necessary. We used to engage in friendly ribbing as teammates, but looking back, maybe it always contained a meaner undercurrent I hadn’t noticed. Allen’s newfound hostility left me with a sense of betrayal; I always thought we were friends. It left a bitter taste in my mouth and a strong desire to swing my fist directly into the other man’s jaw. It was part of the problem, I supposed. Things would come to an explosive head with Allen soon if I couldn’t get a handle on myself. But I didn’t know how.
Suddenly, I was a broody bastard, andseriously, what in the Heathcliff is going on with this shit. The next day I decided to work out in my home gym rather than conditioning with the team. Coach Olsen preferred the team to lift together, but I didn’t have it in me.
I woke up horny and sad, and that would not improve by dealing with a bunch of other dudes in a gym. Especially Allen. Nana planned to be out all day, so I had the house and the gym to myself.
Perfect. I’d be able to lift in peace. Irritation kept my hands curled around the barbell, enjoying the stretch and pull of my muscles as I pushed harder than I should. I tried losing myself in the repetition of it. Pick the heavy thing up, put it down. Up, down. Inhale, exhale.
The mirror version of me scowled as I stood staring at myself, stuck at the bottom of a deadlift with the bar in hand. Each of my tattoos stood out starkly in the bright sunlight flooding in through the high window. No matter how much I wanted to look away, I made myself stare at the curling leaves and twisting vines and poisonous flowers. Maybe I’d have to add a new one for Olivia since the feeling of a fuck-up hung over my head like an axe waiting to drop.
The door opened and she appeared. “That looks heavy.”
Mirror-Olivia caught my reflected stare, and I didn’t bother to hold it for long. My gaze tracked down, flitting over the light pink sports bra and black leggings she wore. “I thought you were working.”
