23. Mal

23

MAL

James: A little birdie told me you have a crush on a certain pink-haired beauty. That true?

W hat the fuck?

It was no later than seven in the morning and that's the text he decided to go with…

Me: Tell the little birdie to shut his fucking mouth before I do it myself. And of course it's not true.

Fucking Trevor running his mouth.

Of course I didn't have a crush on her. No one over the age of sixteen had crushes, and the thought of that being spread around like a rumor unsettled me.

James: Are you or aren't you the one who told the team she's off limits? Or was that someone else?

My mood went from bad to worse in a matter of seconds. I didn't respond. I didn't have the energy to explain to him all my reasons because in the end, it didn't really matter anyway.

For a woman that I didn't want in my life, she became a constant in it. Everywhere I looked, she was always there. Every time I closed my eyes, all I saw was pink hair and honey eyes. Even alone, she was always fucking there.

And it was a battle of emotions every time. Each passing day it was becoming harder and harder to ignore my growing need for her. To see her smile. To hear her laugh. To feel her skin on mine. It gnawed on the fragile parts of my heart until the pain became too unbearable.

Until moral sense hit me like a freight train, and all I felt in return was disgust.

A vicious cycle I was desperate to break even if it meant I was breaking Doe.

James: Word of advice, chicks say they hate a possessive guy, but in reality they don't. They eat that shit up. So, keep it up. Also, we never received confirmation on whether you're coming to our baby shower today or not, but I'm assuming you just forgot about it. Party is at 1, would love to have you celebrate with us.

P.S. Your pink beauty will be there.

Jesus Christ.

I couldn't even look at the bottom portion of the text message without feeling a mixture of fire and flutters.

Your pink beauty.

Mine.

It did something to my soul, but the reality of it was that she would never be mine. Despite the rush of emotions I had when I saw her wearing my number on her back. Despite just how right it looked and felt, she'd always belong to him.

My best friend.

And I had to respect that.

Well, I was trying my fucking hardest to anyway.

I had zero intentions of making an appearance at his gender reveal party, especially knowing everyone would be there, including people I didn't know. Big crowds weren't my scene; people in general weren't my scene, but I felt tempted to go. I could stay at home all day doing nothing, or I could subject myself to baby talk and conversations I had no desire to have. Obviously, it was a no-brainer. Option two had the appeal of playing for the worst team in the league, but the more I thought about it, the more anxious I became.

She was going to be there. Doe. Surrounded by the team and talk of her best friend Kate having a baby. A reality that she would never have with Hayes. And it bothered me greatly. She'd be put in a vulnerable situation where emotions would be too tough to control. It wouldn't be deliberate, but the heart was a fragile thing. And I was there the night it broke. I watched it shatter in front of me. Would I honestly be okay letting her go through that pain alone? Reliving that night knowing she'll never have what Kate and James have?

She's been alone the past ten years. She doesn't need you now.

She could have needed me, though. She could have been wondering why I had left, why I haven't reached out. She could have been crying for months, mourning Hayes's loss

All morning I went back and forth on whether or not to go. At one point I had convinced myself to just stay home. That this was what I wanted and needed if I had any chance of getting Doe out of my head. But as the clock ticked closer and closer to the time of the party, my aversion toward going was becoming more and more uncertain.

It was as if my head was coming up with every scenario of why I should go. Mostly things that had to do with Doe.

Would she become upset? Would she be overwhelmed by everything? Would the guys take it as an opportunity to talk to her without me there? Hell… would she even be there alone?

While all were plausible, the last one had me scathing.

Irrationally so.

Even my writing had turned more aggressive as my pen ripped through the page of my journal and I tossed it beside me on a grunt. I'd been on an hour rant now, the words flowing out of me and onto the paper until my anger had intervened. Back when I was seeing a therapist, he had told me that the best way of getting everything out was to write. He knew I wasn't much of a talker and when I did talk, it never seemed to make sense. At first, I thought it was fucking stupid.

I was a hockey player, not a writer. When I was overwhelmed by emotions, I did what any athlete would do. I took out my frustrations on game day. But as time passed, it never seemed to be enough.

So I bought a fucking journal.

And I wrote.

And wrote.

And wrote.

I was on my second journal now.

Then on a sigh, my eyes dipped down toward the watch around my wrist and that's when I noticed the time.

1:15 p.m.

The party had already started and before I knew it, I was out of my chair on a curse. I said I wouldn't go, but I didn't think anything could stop me from going now. I was wired from writing, and although I knew I'd regret it massively, I had to see her. I had to make sure she would be okay.

For Hayes's sake.

For your sake too…

I ignored the little voice in the back of my head the best I could and in a matter of fifteen minutes, I was dressed and out the door. I didn't have time to overanalyze it.

But on the way I realized I didn't have a gift, so I made a quick stop at the store and bought a card and gift card.

In other words, I had no fucking clue what to get.

Soon, I was back on the road again. Contemplating my decision. Telling myself I could just turn around at any moment. Everything that would stop me from going to that party. At some point, though, I had blocked out my own thoughts and eventually found myself parked and standing in their driveway with an envelope in one hand and the other stuffed into the pocket of my pants.

Fuck.

Cars on cars were lined up along the side of their house and driveway. The whole team and organization were here and God knows who else, causing an overflow of hesitation to strike me. Crowds after games, I could do. Press interviews, I could handle all those. But being in a house full of my teammates and their families… it sounded more like torture than anything.

Vice versa.

The last thing they would expect was to see me walking through the door with a gift in my hand.

Shit, having me there fucking up the vibe might be torture for them.

On the ice, I was a teammate, but off, I was the outcast. Here, I would be out of my element. I'd be surrounded by smiling faces and everything baby. An obvious contrary to the life I live.

My palms began to sweat just thinking about it.

For the next few minutes I just stood beside my car, eyeing their home and windows where I caught the quick silhouette of people passing by. If anything, I was making things worse by standing here.

On a groan, I checked my watch like an idiot. I didn't know what I was hoping for when I looked at it, but when I saw the numbers 2:30, my heart went hammering. I was wasting time out here.

What if you're too late?

What if she's been crying and just like last time, you let her down?

Goddammit.

I winced at the thought of her being upset. I winced at the idea of me caring.

Nothing was more confusing than the mind of a broken hockey player.

Literally and figuratively.

But I was beginning to realize that fighting and arguing with myself was getting me nowhere and frankly, I was getting fucking tired of it. I was tired of it all. Tired of who I was. The way I was.

I was just plain tired.

So finally, on the roll of my shoulders, I'd given myself one last chance to back out.

One last chance to say, " Fuck this ," but of course, I didn't.

I couldn't.

If it were any other person, I could, but not Doe.

Not her.

Then putting one foot in front of the other, I walked the short distance toward the house until I was standing in front of the door. I was about as prepared as I'd ever be, which was not prepared at all, but that didn't stop me from pulling open the door and stepping inside James and Kate's home.

Then with one single purpose in mind, I began to search. I didn't care about the surprised or strange looks I was getting as I passed by groups of James and Kate's family and friends. Even some of my teammates eyed me like I didn't belong here, but I didn't give a fuck.

I needed to find her.

I had to find Doe.