Page 106 of Fake As Puck
“Yeah, me too. Training starts back up this week.”
“Right. Hockey season.”
“Pre-season, but yeah.”
“Well, good luck with that.”
“Thanks.”
“I’ll talk to you soon?”
“Yeah. Soon.”
“Okay. Goodnight, West.”
“Goodnight, Liv.”
I hang up and set my phone aside, feeling oddly accomplished.
I’ve got steady work. I’ve taken control of my financial situation. I’ve set a boundary that makes me feel more like an equal participant in whatever this thing is with West.
It feels like growth.
Like I’m finally becoming the kind of person who doesn’t need to be rescued or taken care of.
The kind of person who can make choices based on what she wants instead of what she needs.
And right now, what I want is to see where this thing with West goes when it’s not complicated by money and power dynamics and the weird employer-employee undertone that’s been bothering me since day one.
I want to find out what we are when we’re just us.
29
She doesn’t need the money anymore.
Which means she doesn’t need me anymore.
The logical part of my brain knows that’s not what she said. Knows she specifically mentioned still coming to the wedding, still wanting to spend time with me. But the logical part of my brain has apparently been overruled by the part that’s been waiting for this exact moment since day one.
The part that’s been waiting for her to realize she’s too good for this arrangement.
Too good for me.
I set my phone down and stare at the ceiling of my bedroom, trying to figure out why this feels like getting sucker-punched.
This is good news. This is what I should want. Her being successful, independent, not needing anyone to take care of her, not needing money from me.
So why does it feel like she just fired me?
I channel everything into training.
Pre-season started, so I’m at the facility every day anyway, pushing myself harder than I have since my rookie year.
I skate until my lungs burn. Lift until my muscles shake. Run until I can’t think about anything except putting one foot in front of the other.
“Hey!” Hurley calls out across the locker room after an intense practice. “Sunshine isn’t shining anymore, is he?”
Colton glances at me and shrugs.
