Page 2 of Don't Look Down

I don’t deserve him. I guess that’s the beauty of living this life. Sometimes we get to keep our blessings whether we “deserve” them or not. And in the end, who gets to decide who’s deserving or undeserving?

Life is beautiful, but short, and so unfair it’s not even funny.

1

Landon

January

“You good, Spence?”

The voice beside me barely registers. Spots dance behind my eyelids as I squeeze my eyes closed in an attempt to block out my reality. Trying to breathe through the panic that’s shooting ice through my veins. Second by second, my breath is being stolen by the irrational fear that is turning me into a mess once again.

Wait... Am I even breathing right now? Fuck.

I suck in a gasp of air and acknowledge I’m feeling lightheaded.

Here I go again. When will this bullshit stop?

I force myself to keep inhaling rhythmically. I need to get a grip before I fall into full-fledged panic attack territory. I’m already skating a very fine line.

Skating...for fuck’s sake. That’s what got me into this mess in the first place.

I try to focus on measuring my breaths. Slow inhale through my nose. Slow exhale out my mouth. Rinse and repeat.

Spoiler alert.

It’s. Not. Fucking. Working.

My hands are still clenched in a classic white-knuckle death grip on the arms of the chair. I very well might leave fingerprints indented on the leather armrests.

How’s that for an autograph? Landon Spencer was here.

Jesus.

If you can’t tell by all the red flags, I hate flying. You could say I’m legitimately petrified of flying. And I get that it’s supposedly safer than driving blah, blah, blah. Don’t waste your time reciting the statistics. Even Sky has tried, but they don’t matter. They don’t diminish the terror by one iota. Iknowthe stats, but it doesn’t help the uncontrollable nerves skittering through my body. Or the trickle of cold sweat slowly inching its way down my spine. It’s soaking my shirt at this point.

Usually, I can distract myself from the paralyzing fear with a good playlist, a movie, or talking with the guys. Leigh helps, too.Sometimes.And, onveryrare occasions, I can relax enough to nap. Those unicorn naps tend to only take place when we leave immediately after a brutal series of games and my body is well past exhaustion mode.

Plus, zero turbulence is always good.

But not today.

That shit definitely isn’t happening today. I am panic and panic is me.

The fucking turbulence is killing me.

We seem to be on the flight from Hell. Or maybe we’re just on a one-way path straighttoHell. Just bury me now, please. Put me out of my misery. End it all.

I’m practically bouncing in my seat, teeth rattling in my head from this shit. If I didn’t know any better, I would swear we were on a yacht during a hurricane instead of thousands of feet in the air.

My stomach curls and nausea creeps in at the thought of those thousands of feet. I shake my head to clear the visual.

According to our pilot, we’ll be experiencing some turbulence for the remainder of our flight. Fucking A.

Why did I decide a career in the NHL was #lifegoals?

What a fantastic way to avoid airplanes, Spence, considering how seldom we fly for away games.

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