Page 2 of Chase
I push myself further up the inclined sidewalk ignoring every throbbing muscle and tired bone. It feels like feather-light kisses all over my body compared to the heavy guilt that consumes every cell of my being. I’m so fucking tired of it all and have no idea how to make it stop.
I’ve developed two loud and distinct voices in my head since last fall. The cliche angel and devil have taken up residence and make daily appearances. That damn angel is currently rattling off a long list of questions for me to dwell on.
She likes to remind me that I’m a shit human and need to do better. I can see her wagging her halo in my face as she forces me to think about my sister’s second attack.How could I have put my sister in harm’s way again? Why didn’t I tell her that Ellis and Waterstone were coming to Havenwood?
My answers now feel hollow and don’t hold any goddamn weight, no matter how heavy they weighed on me. I hid behind an invisible cloak of excuses. I told myself that I was protecting her. That I knew better than she did.
My fucked up thinking led to real-life consequences. These disturbing questions and a hundred more form a list in my head. A list of all the things I’ve done to be in the hole I’m in. I’ve done this to myself. I can’t blame anyone else.This is on me.
It doesn’t matter how much effort I put into rebuilding my relationship with my sister, how many times I say I’m sorry and try to repent for what I’ve done, I still feel sick with throat-burning regret and gut-churning shame. I feel nauseous every time I think about what happened. I’m fucking disgusted with myself day in and day out.
I was by her side in the hospital with our family and Max while we waited for her to fully emerge from her unconscious state. I apologized a million times, recognized my role in her pain, and wished like hell I could go back in time to make better choices.
The initial jolt of adrenaline that shocked my system wore off and I was left with a mountain of guilt over what had happened… again. Remorse tunneled deep into my heart and dug out a giant-sized hole. A carving to permanently remind me of the damage I’ve caused.
I needed to escape the hurt I saw in my sister’s eyes. After we kicked some much-needed sense into Max for being a dumbass, I took off and ran for hours. I ran the longest I’d ever have. I ran until I collapsed on a park bench. A cop found me after sunrise and gave me a ride home.
My feet bled and burned and I knew I needed more of this. To push into the pain. Running had been a way for me to deal with my feelings, but now it was a way for me to punish myself. I’ve run myself into the ground every goddamn day since.
I force myself to run as far away from Havenwood as I can, for as long as I can. If I run inward on the paths of campus, I’ll find her. I’ll stay away but, I won’t be able to stop myself from watching her.
It started last semester. I’d be running through campus and I’d see her. I wouldn’t be able to fucking help myself and I’d just stop and stare. At first, I’d give myself five minutes to shamelessly spy on her, taking in where she was at the time of the day I had found her. Then I started keeping track. The need to shadow her schedule was overwhelming. It soothed me to know where she was.
Not only was I running in the morning but I’d go out for a jog when I knew I’d get my five-minute fix. It got to the point that I had to force myself to break away from her. I’d stay hidden behind buildings, trees, within groups of people, or I’d stay in plain sight.
If she knew I was there she never let on and I preferred it this way. It was as close to her as I’d allow myself to get. When the semester ended, I fucking missed her like crazy.
I’ve got it bad for my sister’s best friend and now I try like hell to outrun the feelings I have for her. With every step, each mile, and passing hours, my head reminds my heart of all the reasons why I’m not fucking good enough for Sloane.
I’ll never be close to being deserving of her. Look what I did to my own sister, I’ll only end up destroying her, too. I’m a worthless piece of shit and I’ll continue to repeat that in my head until my heart gets the message. So that my feelings will stop spreading every time I see her.I’m like a damn virus; she doesn’t need to become sick because of me.
I reach the crest and pick up the pace, sprinting down the hill. The momentum pushes me forward and I cover more steps away from Havenwood. Each breath I take burns deep inside my chest and I welcome the gnawing pain.
I feel it all over, inside and out, top to bottom. It’s overwhelming to think this is how things are always going to be from now on. I don’t think I’ll ever go back to being me, these feelings, this hell is all I’ll ever be now.
If I’m not running, skating, or in class, I’m sleeping. I’ve stopped going to the caf for meals unless I’m meeting B and even then, I always suggest she comes here so I can lock myself in my room after. She came back to campus with Max and the rest of us right after Christmas for our game schedule. We meet once a week for our triplet dinner but most of the time,okay, all of the time, A bails. He can’t even look her in the fucking eye at this point. Our bond feels fractured again and I hate it.
She’s the one who’s had to survive hell twice because of us, and here she is texting about meals, calling about getting together, showing up to do our laundry, and to love us. I don’t deserve hers or anyone’s love.Hell, our fucking bio-mom didn’t even love us.
I make it down the hill and my pace slows as I hit a smooth, straight stretch of welcoming sidewalk at mile nine. If only the rest of my life was this easy to navigate. I need to try to use whatever brain energy I have and keep my focus on rebuilding my relationship with my sister. Everything else can wait.
I’m hoping the more we heal, the better I’ll start to feel. I’m making every attempt to be a better brother and make a solid effort to see B when Sloane is in class or at rehearsal. It’s just easier that way. If she’s in the room, I can’t think about anything or anyone else.
No matter how much I try to keep my feelings for Sloane in check, I–without a goddamn doubt–always end up dreaming about red hair, green silk, and whiskey eyes. I don’t think I’ll ever get the image of her standing in the frame of my bedroom door in skimpy pajamas out of my head. It’s on constant replay every time I step in the shower and I end up hand fucking my dick.
I’ve never been drawn to anyone like I am her, but that’s all it can be. B has been through enough and I’m not going to ruin a good thing in her life and date and probably fuck things up between her and her best friend. It’s just not an option.
I don’t deserve someone as wholesome and good as she is.She’s perfect.I’ve made terrible choices that have led to unforgivable consequences. I’ve proved just how selfish I can be and refuse to do anything that could put a target on my sister or Sloane’s back. Those shitstains, Ellis and Waterstone, figured out who she was when I idiotically pointed at her in the stands during the tournament. If they had gotten to her too, I would have never fucking forgiven myself. I honestly don’t know if I would have been able to handle it. I’d be under an indefinite psychiatric hold if something had happened to both of them.
I grind into my tenth mile and harden my resolve to remain focused on coasting through my classes, playing auto-pilot hockey, and being a better person because I’ve sucked as a human lately…and if anyone deserves the best of the best, it’s Sloane Higgins. And the person to give her the goddamn world… isn’t me.
Chapter One
IFUCKING REGRET COMING HERE.I should’ve just gotten delivery then I wouldn’t have to deal with all these people and this fucking packed cafeteria. They all look happy to be back and refreshed from winter break. It’s getting on my last fucking nerve.
Max, Monroe, and Jake dragged me here after practice. I protested as much as I fucking could, but it didn’t matter, theybasically grabbed both my arms and forced me through the damn cafeteria doors.
I feel like crap and being here is eating up the last of my energy. Practice was fucking brutal today. Coach ran drill after drill and at one point I felt like I was gonna puke all over the damn ice. When the nausea bubbled in my gut I felt more like a freshman rookie with sea legs than a seasoned third-year, first-line D1 winger.
