Page 51 of Safety Net
Anthony sighed. "It's not about defending. It's not about how many pucks I get past you."
"Then…what are we doing?" I asked.
"Exactly." Anthony pointed at me. "Have you done any of the outside exercises I've given you? Have you reviewed the videos I've sent? Really studied the techniques?"
I opened my mouth, ready to spout a lie or some joke to smooth this all over. But I couldn’t. All lightness had been burned out of me thanks to the finality in Anthony's nod. Every moment outside of our practice time, I was doing something for the musical or lazing about the house.
"That's what I thought." He took a breath, slowing calming his voice down. He'd cycled out of the disappointment and now, all left was surrender. He unloaded his proverbial pack onto my back.
"You've got the kind of talent most guys dream of," he said. "Enough of it to go as far as you want. But you're satisfied with where you are, which is fine. It's good for you. But I can't do anything with good.”
Satisfied? I mulled the word over, and it had a nauseating taste.
"I'm…" I'm not satisfied. I haven't been since…ever? What did satisfaction even feel like?
I've faked satisfaction. I've learned how to do so by watching Sam after a good game, Finn figure out another piece of his fractured personality, or Henrik ensuring everyone in the house was fed. But I hadn't experienced it firsthand, and there was shame in that.
"You'll figure something out," Anthony said, his voice didn't have the sharp edge he'd possessed the entire time we've known each other. I guess the hard exterior was reserved for people he thought could become something bigger than what stood before him.
"Good luck, Hill," he said before leaving.
I stood on the ice, unmoving.It’s not that big of a deal, I tried to tell myself.
I'd still play next season. I'd still be the starting goalie. Still get to be with my team on the ice… one last time.
None of that comforted me. Instead, I'm somehow burning from the inside out. Lungs full of nothing but regret and dread. Why didn't I try? Why couldn't I have just tried?
"Lincoln?" Her voice pulled me out of the flame.
I didn't see her come in. Or how long she'd been here. She stood in the bench area, wearing a pink dress, her hair pulled up on top of her head, and her beautiful eyes lined in purple.
"Hey, sorry, am I late?" I asked, confused and a million miles away. I skated over to her, meeting her at the boards. She smelled like a fantasy, and I'd just fucked up my summer. How was I ever going to deserve a woman as talented, brilliant, and driven as her if I couldn't commit to making a future for myself?
"No, you're not late," Celeste promised. "I was...I didn't want to sit around the house when I could just hang out on campus… so I thought I'd come early to…see you. Are you okay?"
"I'm good." I tightened my grip on my hockey stick. "We ended early and I… I'm going to need a second to get showered and changed. Then we can head out and talk."
"We don't have to," she offered quickly. "I didn't mean to rush you. We could go straight to the playhouse. You seem…distracted?"
"I've been looking forward to seeing you all day, so even if I were busy with something, I'd drop it," I confessed. It's the one thing I can say with my whole chest today, tomorrow, and forever.
"You wouldn't have to drop anything. I'd never expect you to do that. Hockey's just as important to you as my music is to me."
I chuckled under my breath, not a trace of humor in sight.
"Hockey is just as important to me," I repeated, words hollow.
Celeste studied me, gaze shadowed with confusion about my tone.
"I'm not rushing, Celeste. I'm done with my session, and I'm very conscious of how behind we are in finishing the paint job on those buildings. I'm going to clean up real quick and be back." I said, ready to make my escape in a cold shower and wash away all the muddy emotion this day left on my skin.
I hate being like this. I wanted a drink. A party. A night in a place where nothing mattered besides the next song on the playlist or the next nonsensical thing coming out of some stranger's mouth.
"I'll be here," Celeste promised.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CELESTE
