20. Mal

20

MAL

Mal

I 'm not leaving you.

Doe's words replayed in my head all fucking night. Her voice, her tone, it was embedded into my brain and now my memory until the end of time. I couldn't concentrate. I couldn't think. I couldn't get my head in the game. I was pissed off and confused all at the same time and it was all because of a pink-haired angel who was ruining my life.

She wasn't just fucking with my head now, she was fucking with everything.

My career.

My sanity.

I could barely focus on playing because I was too busy worrying about what she was doing and where the hell she was. Every chance I had, I sought her out in the stands but never could find her.

It was beginning to tick me off.

We were down two goals and just when I thought we had a chance of catching up, I'd fuck something up. I had Vince on my ass all night along with Coach, and for once I didn't feel like playing.

"You need out?" Vince muffled through his mouth guard at me, but I shook my head on a growl. "Then get your head in the fucking game."

Every instinct in me wanted to argue, but I held back.

Instead, I threw myself back into the game, more determined now to rid my brain of any thoughts related to Doe. And it seemed to be working for a little while.

With the puck back in our position, I pushed myself down the length of the rink and when I lifted my head, I saw pink.

I saw her.

Standing right up against the glass with her camera pointed out toward us, I nearly lost all ability to skate. She looked so fucking beautiful.

Painfully beautiful and the half second I looked at her, I noticed what she was wearing.

My jersey.

My goddamn number on her back and immediately, my chest swelled. I'd never willingly given my jersey to anyone, and seeing her wear it did some serious fucking things to my pride.

It looked like it belonged on her.

And just when I thought I was given a confidence booster, it was stripped away from me the second someone collided into my side. Not enough to knock me over, but just enough to send a shooting pain down my arm that caused me to wince.

I managed to go unnoticed by the coach and the rest of the team. Hiding it with the clench of my teeth and occasional roll of my shoulder, I continued to play but with half the stamina, half the energy.

Every sudden jerk or twist I made caused fire to erupt down my arm, but I knew I couldn't quit.

I couldn't let them see that I was in pain.

So the remainder of the game, I fought through the grueling arches and pain but it ended up not being good enough.

We lost our away game.

But in the back of my head, I knew I had my own personal win of the night.

Seeing Doe in my jersey.

That, I'll remember forever.