Page 133 of The Substitute
“You do, but it’s hard to talk about what we’ve been through. We all need to be more open and trust each other.”
“Will you tell me more about boarding school?”
“I don’t even know where to start.” I blow out a breath. “At first, it wasn’t so bad. It was away from my father, which gave me room to breathe, but that only lasted as long as it took me to figure out I like guys and get a boyfriend, and then it turned into hell.”
Tobi’s brows pull. “Hell?”
“They believed in old school catholic punishments for transgressions.” I force myself to keep a neutral look while grimacing internally at some of the beatings I suffered. “There were days I wasn’t sure which would kill me first—their punishments or my mind needing to escape it.”
Tobi wraps up tighter around me. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’ve done a lot of therapy, so it’s less heavy than it used to be.”
“Do you still go to the bridge because…” Tobi doesn’t have to finish the sentence for me to know what he means.
“No, I don’t want to jump off a bridge anymore. I haven’t in a long time. The bridge reminds me of how far I’ve come, and it was where I met you. So it’s a good memory now.” I rub my nose against his. “I hope you don’t either.”
“I don’t. You were right that night.”
“Hmm?”
“You were meant to find me that night. I’m sure of it.”
“I know I was.” I pause for a minute before asking. “What are you going to do about Savage?”
“I don’t know.” The weight of it is visible on him like he’s physically wearing it. “I’m just sad about all of it. I don’t know what to do.”
“Whatever you decide I’m here for you.”
“Really?” He looks up at me.
“Yes.” How could I not be? I wish he understood that.
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
FORTY-ONE
SAVAGE
Ihaven’t heard from Tobi in a little while. He must be napping or something. I pick up my phone to check it one more time before we go onto the ice, finally seeing a message from him. I smile and open it, but my blood runs cold.
Tobi: Thanks for telling me you’re a hockey player.
What do I even say to that? I haven’t lied to him, but I sure as fuck didn’t go out of my way to tell him. At first, it was because I didn’t want to be compared to Ambrose, and then I didn’t know how. None of that is an excuse, I know that, but I have no idea how to even reply to him.
“You coming?” Lovelace asks.
“Yeah, in a sec.”
I stare at my phone for another minute before sending a message.
Savage: I’m sorry.
I didn’t want to leave him on read, but I also don’t have time to come up with a proper response. Simple would have todo if I’m not already blocked. I don’t wait to see if my message delivers, throwing my phone in my cubby.
I’m spinning out by the time I step on the ice. I have to get out of my head, or this game is going to be a disaster. But I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be on the fucking ice while Tobi is slipping through my fingers. I love hockey, but I’ve always known it can’t be my future. Not after watching my dad descend into rage because of CTE from too many concussions. I swore on his deathbed, as I looked at a version of my dad I hated, that I would never become that. So I promised myself I would be done after college, and now that I’m in the home stretch, if I lose Tobi because of hockey like I lost my dad, I’ll never forgive myself or this game.
