4. Ethan

4

Ethan

I’m lying on my couch, the familiar haze of alcohol and drugs dulling my senses. The TV’s on, but I can’t focus on it, the images blurring together. An empty bottle of whiskey lies on the floor, and I’m too far gone to care. My head is pounding, my body aching from the abuse I’ve put it through. I know I’m spiraling, but I can’t seem to find a way out.

I glance around the wreck of my townhouse, bottles and trash scattered everywhere, the remnants of another lost night. It’s been like this for months. Ever since I found that damn invitation.

It’s a flashback I can’t escape.

Mercy and I are sitting in my kitchen, a rare moment of calm between us. She’s flipping through a magazine, and I’m aimlessly sorting through a drawer I haven’t touched in ages. That’s when I see it—a pristine white envelope with my name in Elena’s neat handwriting.

“What’s this?” I ask out loud as I tear it open.

“Nothing,” she says quickly as she rushes to rip it out of my hand. “It’s just some old mail that I forgot to throw out.”

Inside is an invitation to Elena’s graduation. My mind flashes back to college, to all the plans we made together, the dreams we shared. It’s dated months ago. I never saw it until now.

“Throw out? You hid this from me?”

“Of course I did. You wouldn’t even touch me in the bedroom unless I got you high or brought in other women. All because of that bitch.”

“What?” I gasp.

This is the first time she's ever said anything like this.

“ You’re such a pussy, Ethan. You’ve never gotten over her, have you? And look at you now—she’s graduated, moved on, and you’re still stuck here, wallowing in your own shit!”

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that!”

“Why not? It’s the truth! You’re pathetic, Ethan. You cling to the past like it’s some kind of lifeline. Well, newsflash: she’s over you. She’s doing great, and you’re just a miserable mess!”

“You know what, Mercy? I don’t need this. I don’t need you.”

“Fine. Have fun being alone with your memories and regrets,” she spits, grabbing her bag and storming out of the townhouse, slamming the door behind her.

I’m left standing there, the silence almost deafening after the explosion of our fight. I look down at the invitation still clutched in my hand, the edges crumpled from my grip.

There’s a note on the inside.

“I know things are over between us, but I feel like this is your accomplishment as much as it’s mine. I’d love for you to be here. I’d love to see you before I leave for Australia. I’m traveling the world, Ethan, like I always said I would.”

The flashback fades, and I’m back on my couch, the numbing effects of the drugs and alcohol pulling me under. I grab my phone, scrolling mindlessly through messages and social media, searching for something—anything—to distract me from the gnawing emptiness inside.

I find myself on Elena’s profile, her smiling face looking back at me. She’s beautiful, radiant, and happy. A stark contrast to the wreck I’ve become. I see photos of her travels, her new friends, and I feel a pang of jealousy and regret. She’s moved on, built a life for herself, while I’m still stuck here, drowning in my own self-pity.

I can hear Mercy’s voice in my head, taunting me, calling me a pussy. Maybe she’s right. Maybe I never got over Elena. But what am I supposed to do now? How do I move forward when every step feels like sinking further into quicksand?

I force myself to get up, stumbling into the bathroom. I splash cold water on my face, trying to sober up, but it’s no use. My reflection in the mirror is a stranger—bloodshot eyes, unshaven face, a shell of the person I once was. I punch the mirror in frustration, the glass shattering, a jagged piece cutting into my hand. Blood drips onto the sink, but I barely feel it. Physical pain is nothing compared to the ache in my chest.

I grab a towel, wrap it around my hand, and stagger back to the living room. I need to get out of here, away from the reminders of my failures. I grab my jacket and head out the door, the cool night air hitting me like a slap in the face. I wander aimlessly, the city lights blurring as I walk, my mind a chaotic swirl of thoughts and memories.

I find myself at a bar, the familiar scent of alcohol and smoke wrapping around me like a comforting blanket. I order a drink, then another, trying to drown out the noise in my head. I lose track of time, the hours slipping by in a haze.

Somewhere in the back of my mind I know this isn’t sustainable. I can’t keep going like this, numbing myself with substances and distractions. But the thought of facing my demons, of confronting the pain and guilt, is too much to bear.

The bartender cuts me off after my fifth drink, and I stumble out into the street, the cold air sobering me slightly. I pull out my phone, staring at Elena’s number. I haven’t called her in years, haven’t heard her voice since the day we broke up. But right now, she’s the only person I can think of.

I hit the call button, my heart pounding as it rings and immediately goes to voicemail, her cheerful voice asking me to leave a message. I hang up without saying anything, the reality of my situation crashing down on me.

She called me after my grandfather passed and that dumb chick Amelia answered. She thought she was cute, telling me she thought it was funny for a female to answer my phone. She got a little crazy after that and I realized she did it in hopes that I would choose her to be my girlfriend. When I called Elena back immediately, she’d already blocked me again.

How do I keep messing this up?

Why can’t I get my shit together?

I wander through the streets, my mind racing, the weight of my past pressing down on me. I think about what Mercy said, about how I never got over Elena. Maybe she’s right. Maybe I’ve been stuck in this cycle of regret and self-destruction because I never faced the truth.

I need to change. I need to find a way out of this darkness. But how? The path ahead seems so uncertain, so daunting. I don’t know if I have the strength to do it alone.

I fall down onto the ground, too drunk to take another step.

“Hey buddy, you can’t be here,” a police officer says gruffly as he stands in front of me.

“I can be wherever I want to be.”

“You really can’t. Let’s go.”

He bends down and shines a flashlight in my face.

“Knock it off,” I hiss.

“Ethan Anderson?” he mutters.

“What of it?”

“Shit, you’re a mess. Let’s go.”

“Are you arresting me?”

“No, I’m doing you a favor and taking you home before you make another headline.”

“I don’t need…”

“You do, actually. You’re an amazingly talented player and this is a shame. Coach gave you one more chance and you’re about to blow it.”

“How do you…?”

“I’m security at the rink, for your coach. This is my main job.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not. Let’s go.”

He helps me off the ground and loads me into the back of his squad car. I don’t have to give him directions—somehow he already knows where my townhouse is.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“Why are you like this man? You need help? I can take you to a facility and get you checked in. Is this over Mercy?”“No. It’s not over a woman,” I hiss.

“Then what is it?”

“It’s nothing that I can’t handle!”

It’s because the one woman I loved left me and I can’t replicate the feelings she gave me with anyone.

“You have the entire world in your hands right now. You’re arguably the GOAT of hockey and you’re throwing it all away for booze and drugs, for the party life.”

“That’s all anyone sees me as, is the party guy.”

“No, it’s not, man,” he chuckles. “Who cares what everyone else thinks about you? Those bad opinions aren’t important. I remember your first game in the league. You came out with a wrecking ball and blew everyone’s doubts out of the water. And you stayed late after that game signing autographs. The crew was trying to shut down and go home for the night and you, you stayed behind talking to an eight year old boy with cancer for hours.”

“He died.”

“I know.”

“How does that line up in the world?”

“Shit happens, no one ever said it was fair. That little boy idolized that man, he wouldn’t this one.”

I shake my head, trying to ignore the words he’s saying to me.

“I don’t need a dad lecture. My dad’s a piece of shit.”

“You’re dad owns a professional hockey team,” he chuckles. “He seems like a good man.”

“He’s absolutely not. He only wants you to believe he is. He’s never been to any of my games. Just tells me that I’m a spoiled brat and a piece of shit.”

“You’re not proving him wrong,” he says bluntly.

“Fuck you.”

We pull into my driveway and he helps me out of the back of the car.

This will be all over the news by tomorrow.

“Listen, I get it. Things aren’t always what they seem for people. If you don’t have a good support system around you all of the pressure can cause you to buckle. It doesn’t matter how much talent you have, if you’re not ready for the glory and the media then… it’s a lot.”

I roll my eyes and stumble inside my house.

The next morning, my phone is ringing off the hook.

It’s Coach.

“Hey Coach,” I say hoarsely.

“You’ve been traded to the Frostwood Falls Wolves. You need to report there in the morning.”

“What?”

“You heard me. I told your father that I wanted to be the one to tell you. Check your email.”

He hangs up the phone. I stare at it for a few minutes before I dial my dad’s number.

“Didn’t think you’d be awake this early,” he chuckles into the phone.

“What’s going on?”

“I saved your career, that’s what is going on. After there was footage of the police bringing your drunk ass home last night, Coach was ready to make you a free agent. I saved your career.”

“I don’t want to come home.”

“You have no choice, son. You’ll come home and will start working on you taking over the team so that I can retire. This is where you belong so that we can keep an eye on you. If you want to continue playing hockey, you’ll be on the private plane here in a few hours.”

I slam the phone down.

My father’s team is an NHL team too, but to me, it’s a demotion. It doesn’t have the wins and the legacy of my Nashville team or any other in the league because it’s still so new. I’m not interested in helping my father build this team into those things. I just want to play hockey and not worry about anything else.

I’m not capable. Elena always handled anything related to business, organization, marketing, and financial for me.

I’m just the talent and pretty face.

“Fuck you!” I scream.

***

I stumble through the familiar streets of Frostwood Falls, the biting cold of the night air doing little to penetrate the haze of whiskey that clouds my mind. The quaint little town looks the same as it did when I left it, but everything feels different. It’s smaller, more suffocating. Or maybe that’s just me.

The neon lights of Rascal’s bar cast a sickly glow on the snow-covered sidewalks. I push open the door, the warmth and noise hitting me like a wave. I make my way to the bar, my usual stool somehow still vacant, like it’s been waiting for me all this time.

“Whiskey. Neat,” I mumble to the bartender, who gives me a knowing look before pouring the drink.

I stare at the amber liquid, my mind drifting back to the reason I’m here. My father had to bail me out of trouble, again. I’m supposed to be a professional hockey player, not some washed- up drunk. But here I am, back in my hometown, looking like a failure.

The guilt gnaws at me, but I push it down, washing it away with another gulp of whiskey. The burn in my throat is a welcome distraction from the turmoil inside. I hate this town, hate that I’m back here, hate that I couldn’t make things work.

Everything is a reminder that Elena and I are no longer together.

You’re pathetic, Anderson. You can’t get over some girl who dumped you and believed others over you.

I slam the glass down, signaling for another. The bartender complies, no questions asked. This is Frostwood Falls, after all. Everyone knows everyone’s business, and they gossip ridiculously to feel better about their pathetic lives. This man knows what I’m dealing with, but he doesn’t care.

It’s been weeks since I came back, and the nights blur together in a haze of alcohol and regret. I find myself at Daniel’s house again, pounding on his door. He answers, looking tired and exasperated.

“Ethan, it’s late. What do you want?” Daniel asks, rubbing his eyes.

“Come on, man. Let’s go out. One more night, just like old times,” I slur, leaning heavily against the doorframe.

“We’ve been doing this every night. I can’t keep up with you.”

“You used to be fun,” I snap, feeling a surge of anger. “What happened to you?”

“What happened to me? What happened to you, Ethan? You’re a mess. I’ve got responsibilities now. I’m trying to buy my own business and make something of myself. I can’t keep partying every night.”

“Responsibilities? Come on, Daniel. Live a little.”

“I can’t do this anymore, Ethan. You need to get your shit together,” he says firmly before turning and going back inside, leaving me standing there, feeling more alone than ever.

***

I’ve worn down Daniel enough and he’s finally agreed to a boy’s night out. When I arrive at his house though, Grams is sitting on the couch.

The cozy living room feels stifling, the air thick with something unspoken. Grams sits in her favorite chair, knitting needles clacking softly, while Daniel stands by the fireplace, arms crossed. I walk over and give her a quick hug, she doesn’t return it.

This can’t be good.

“What’s up?”

“Sit down, bro,” Daniel says.

“Ethan, we need to talk,” Grams begins, her voice steady. “This can’t go on. You’re on a path to self-destruction, and we can’t just stand by and watch.”

“I’m fine,” I say, waving a hand dismissively. “You’re overreacting.”

“Fine?” Daniel snaps, his frustration boiling over. “You’re drunk half the time and high the other half. You’ve been back for weeks, and all you do is drink and pick fights. You’re not fine. You’re falling apart.”

“I’m handling it,” I argue, my voice rising. “I don’t need you two acting like my parents.”

“By drowning yourself in whiskey? You need to stop before you kill yourself.”

“I’m not going to kill myself,” I mutter, looking away. “I’ve got it under control.”

“No, you don’t,” Daniel says, stepping closer. “You’re spiraling, and it’s affecting everyone around you. I can’t keep bailing you out. I’m trying to build something here, and I need to focus. I can’t keep dragging myself down with you.”

“I don’t need your help. I can take care of myself.”

“Ethan, please,” Grams says softly, her eyes pleading. “You’re so much more than this. We believe in you, but you need to start believing in yourself.”

“You don’t understand! None of you do! I’m fine! Just leave me alone!”

“You’re a wreck! If you don’t get help, I can’t be your friend anymore,” Daniel hisses.

Daniel and his family have been the only people I ever really called family. They’ve always been here for me.

How dare he tell me that he can’t be my friend?

“I don’t need this,” I yell back, my fists clenching. “I don’t need you telling me how to live my life!”

“Then live it, Ethan! Don’t waste it!” Daniel’s voice is raw, his face flushed with anger.

“I am living it!” I scream, my vision blurring with rage and alcohol.

Daniel storms out of the house, slamming the door behind him. The sound echoes in the silence that follows, leaving me standing there, shaking with anger and something else—something that feels a lot like fear.

Grams looks at me, her eyes piercing through the fog of my mind. “If you ever want to win Elena back you have to make changes to your life because she’s out there living fearlessly, forging her own path, and growing into who she was always meant to be while you’re stuck in the version of who the media, your parents, society are telling you to be. The media portrays you as a spoiled rich kid, bad boy, party guy and you let them. Your parents tell you that you’re nothing more than a problem to them, that you can’t do anything but be a party animal and you listen. Society tells you that you’re stuck right where you are in some cage and that you can’t change that, and it seems like you don’t want to. You can’t be lost and expect to be found by the person you’re meant to be with. Right now, all anyone sees in you is an entitled man-child. But I know you’re so much more than that. I’ve seen the man you can be.”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut, the reality of my situation crashing down on me. I feel the weight of my failures, the guilt, and the shame. I want to lash out, to deny it, but deep down, I know she’s right. I’ve been running from my problems, drowning them in alcohol and drugs, but it’s time to face them.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “I don’t know how to fix this.”

“You start by admitting you have a problem,” Grams says gently, reaching out to take my hand. “And then you get help. Real help. I’ve been where you are and I’m here for you.”

“What do I do?”

“Stay here for the night and we’ll get started. We’ll check you into a facility if that’s what’s necessary,” she says.

Daniel walks back into the house. His face is flush with emotion.

“You’re going to rehab. I’ll drive you there myself. If you don’t, I’ll call Elena right now and let her see the mess you are in this moment.”

“Daniel,” Grams interjects.

“I’ll go.” I say quickly.

I don’t know how things got this bad, but I know this isn’t who I am or who I want to be any longer.