Page 43 of Goalies Don't Date Ice Princesses

twenty-seven

Doubt gnawedat my insides for the whole walk back to my dorm, twining its way through my every thought. Was leaving behind a sport that had once defined me the right path to take? It feels like a betrayal, an abandonment of everything I’ve worked so hard for.

As the weight of my decision settled on my shoulders, I felt like I was going to throw up.

What was I thinking? How could I just decide to give up like that on a whim? I hadn’t thought it through at all, hadn’t spoken to anyone about it—not Adelynn, not Archer, not even my parents. Oh gosh, my parents. They were going to kill me. After all this, after the hours of work and money and everything we poured into my figure skating, I just walked away as if it had never mattered in the first place.

As soon as I got back to my room, I collapsed on my bed and screamed into my pillow. Thankfully, Adelynn wasn’t going to be back in the room for a few hours since she and Jasper were going on a date in town, so I had a few hours to process what I’d just done without having to say it out loud to her.

I quit figure skating.

The words just didn’t feel real.

The walls seemed to close in on me, suffocating me with their silent judgment. The room felt foreign, as if it belonged to someone else entirely. But this was my reality now. I had made the decision, and there was no turning back.

I lay down on my bed, the weight of my choice heavy on my chest. The soft cotton sheets provided little comfort against the storm of doubt that raged within me. I closed my eyes, hoping for a moment of solace, but all I found were endless questions echoing through the chambers of my mind.

Would I regret quitting figure skating for the rest of my life? What if this was just a phase? A momentary weakness that would pass with time? How could I give up something that had been such an integral part of my identity?

Just as the knots in my stomach threatened to tighten further, a gentle knock at the door jolted me from my spiraling thoughts. I sat up, wiping away the remnants of tears that had escaped my eyes. With a shaky breath, I called out, “Come in.”

The door swung open, revealing Archer’s worried expression. His amber eyes searched mine, concern etched into every line of his face. He stepped into the room, his presence both comforting and grounding.

“Blair texted me,” he said. “She said you seemed upset about something.”

I sighed and climbed down from the top bunk, then gestured for him to sit beside me on Adelynn’s bed instead. As he settled down, I found myself inching closer to him, seeking solace in his supportive presence. I hesitated for a moment before finally pouring out the chaotic swirl of emotions that had consumed me since leaving the rink.

“I quit the team,” I said. He stared at me impassively, not showing any reaction, either positive or negative. To my surprise, I was relieved. I didn’t want to have to deal with anyone else’s opinions on this right now. I just wanted some time to think about it. To process. To mourn.

Archer listened intently, his hand reaching out to gently grasp mine. His touch provided a small reassurance, a lifeline as I recounted every detail, every thought, and every doubt that had plagued my mind since I made the decision to quit figure skating.

When I finally finished speaking, there was a moment of silence between us as Archer processed everything I had revealed. His expression softened, his eyes filled with empathy and understanding.

“How do you feel?” He asked.

I couldn’t sit still. I stood up and paced the length of the room as I considered his question. How did I feel? I had no idea. I felt happy that I finally did it. Sad that this period of my life was over. Unsure of whether I made the right decision. Nauseous at the idea that I couldn’t undo it.

“I feel like an idiot,” I said finally.

“What?” Archer asked. He stood as well. “Why would you say that?”

“Because...” How could I explain this to him? How could I describe the mess of emotions whirling inside me? “Because I threw everything away. Just like that. I didn’t think about it, I didn’t consider other options, I didn’t ask for help, I just... I’m just a quitter.” I threw my hands up in the air and didn’t bother to wipe away the traitorous tears now running down my face. “I’m just giving up on everything because of what? A few bad days?”

Archer awkwardly moved towards me, clearly not used to move with crutches yet. He came to a stop in front of me and put one hand on the side of my face, resting his whole bodyweight into the opposite crutch.

“Hey,” he said. His voice was soft, a tone he only used on me. I wasn’t sure anyone else had ever heard it. If they could even believe he was capable of it. “You’re not a quitter. And it wasn’t just a ‘few bad days’.”

I shook my head. “You don’t get it. You didn’t have a choice in walking away. You didn’t have to decide to pack up and walk away.”

His face hardened. “No. I wasn’t given that choice.”

I bit my lip, feeling guilty for my words but not quite ready to apologize for it. Because even if he was right—and I knew it wasn’t fair for me to be saying he was lucky for his accident—I also stood behind some of what I said. He didn’t understand how hard it was to have to make the choice. It never even occurred to him to stop playing hockey, but I’d question figure skating every day for years. I’d thought through the pros and cons, known how hard it would be to walk away—I’d made the choice day after day to stick out these stupid competitions that were killing me from the inside out.

“I’m the dependable one,” I said. “I’m the one who sticks it out no matter what. How am I supposed to look at everyone and tell them that I failed?”

“You’re not telling them you failed, Bri,” Archer said. I shook my head again and looked away. I probably looked so stupid right now, with tears streaking down my face and my hair going wild, but it was the least of my worries right now. “You’re just… moving on. Making time in your life for bigger and better things.”

“My parents have wanted me to be a figure skater forever,” I said. “I’m giving up on their dream.”

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