Page 121 of Don't Let Me Go (Don't Let Me 2)

“Thanks,” I tell him.

His chin dips in acknowledgement, and he repeats, “You’re dismissed.”

“I’m not finished.”

He drops the pen onto his desk and leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Fine. Finish.”

“I want you to give Blake her job back. I’m the one who screwed up. Not her. She deserves to be on this team. I’ll stay away from her if that’s what it takes. But it isn’t fair she was fired because of me.”

“You’re right,” he replies. “It isn’t.”

I lean further into my chair, surprised by how easily he conceded. “So…will you give her back the internship? Will you let me fix this?”

He sighs, his attention dropping to the paperwork on his desk before snapping back to me. “Russ already tried. She declined the offer.”

Confusion swirls in my lower gut as I lean forward in my chair. “What?”

“She declined,” he repeats.

“Why?”

“By the time I cooled down and asked Russ to reach out––which he’d been chomping at the bit to do––she’d already found a new position with a charity. Something involving teaching kids sports. Despite the information, Russ tracked her down and invited her to come back, but she said no. Seeing how happy she was, he didn’t fight her on it.” Coach’s mouth lifts slightly. “He actually thought it was an even better fit for the girl, and I have to agree.”

“So, she isn’t coming back?”

“She declined,” he reminds me. “It’s out of my control.”

“Then…” My voice trails off as the questions filter through my mind, one after another, leaving me more clueless and lost than I’d been before working up the courage to sit in Coach’s office with my tail tucked between my legs.

“You look lost,” he notes.

“If she doesn’t want the internship anymore, I don’t know…” My voice trails off, and I wipe my palms on my jeans.

“You don’t know how to make it up to her if you can’t help get her job back?” he finishes for me.

I nod and squeeze the back of my neck.

“Good question. If I can help, let me know.”

I nod again but stay quiet. Because I don’t know what to do or say. Not anymore.

“Did you decide on the contracts?” he prods, changing the subject.

I shake my head. I’ve been too distracted by Blake to even read over them.

“Have you talked to anyone about your options? Your parents? Colt? You know he signed last week.”

“Yeah, I know,” I mutter.

It’s funny. When his dad died, he dropped out of the NHL draft, even though he probably would’ve ended up being picked in the first round. But with him back on the ice, they were all anxious to sign him. I decided to wait and get some more playing time before making any decisions, slipping past the ECHL and choosing the NCAA instead. I had no idea how lucrative of a choice it would play out to be until my personal life became more complicated too. It muddied the waters.

When Colt first transferred to LAU, I was the one with my head on straight. The one with my future laid out. The one with all the plans and all the dreams, and I put in the hard work to fulfill them.

Now, the idea of leaving––of playing for my favorite team across the country––feels like torture. Like it’s too far away from the life I’ve built. Like it’s making me give up more than I want. And in exchange for what, exactly?

I don’t even know anymore.

“You need to decide what you want, Theo,” Coach warns.

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