I didn’t just lose Katie that night. I lost part of myself, too. I had to push Kenna away, and in doing so, I lost the love of my life.
It’s so weird. I know she’s halfway across the country, but every time I look in the crowds at one of our games, I’ll see a girl with long blonde hair and swear it’s Kenna.
Like right now, as I turn away from Carson, I could swear the girl behind the penalty box is Kenna. The girl has her back turned to me, but her honey-blonde hair falls over her black parka jacket and down to her waist.
I shake my head, about to turn away, when the girl takes off her jacket, making my chest constrict with more emotion than I’ve felt in months.
It’s her. I know even before she turns and I make eye contact with those hauntingly beautiful blue eyes.
I snap out of the trance that her eyes put me in and take her in. Now that her jacket is off, I can see that Kenna is in a jersey split down the middle—half red with a nine on one side and half white and maroon with a two on the other side. It makes my stomach bottom out.
Have all the school spirit you want, aside from the games we play versus each other. Come on, Katie Cat, I need a fan in the crowd. Kenna will wear Carson’s jersey—I need someone supporting me.
Alright, I promise I’ll always be your number-one fan whenever I’m at one of your games.
Kenna shouldn’t be here if Katie can’t.
My games, the ice, and hockey are supposed to be my one escape from the pain.
Seeing her after all this time, here . . . wearingthat. . . well, it fucks me up.
It takes everything in me to pull myself together and turn my back on her.
Fuck.
Skating across the ice to our bench, Maks holds his gloved hand out for me to bump.
“You good, brother? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Maks says.
I shake my head. “No, my head is fucked right now. Kenna is here.”
His eyebrows disappear under his helmet. “You sure? You’ve thought you saw her before.”
“I’m sure. She’s wearing my jersey. Well, half of my jersey and half of her brother’s jersey.” I nod my head toward the penalty box she’s sitting behind.
“Shit, G. Do you want me to get someone to bring her down to talk to you before the game? We need your head in the right place.”
“Hearing her voice would fuck me up worse than seeing her is. I’ll be good, Maks. I just need to take a few laps to clear my head.”
I take off at a leisurely pace around our zone. I nod to a few of my teammates and then let the music flow through me, amping my adrenaline.
After we warm up, we go to the locker room while they resurface the ice. My hands shake as I reach into my jacket pocket and feel for the small baggy I bought earlier today. My nerves are shot.
I slip the baggy into my fist before heading into one of the bathroom stalls. I’ve only taken Adderall a few times recently when everything became too much, and right now, things are too much. So I slip two pills into my mouth and dry swallow them.
I’ve never fucked around with drugs prior to these past few weeks. But seeing Kenna tonight has my head fucked, and I need to focus.
It’s early January, which means Carson and a few guys from each team just got back from the World Juniors tournament, which was in Canada this year.
I was too old to play this year, but I’m proud of the guys who played on the U.S. team. They beat Canada in the finals—it was a barn burner.I have three Emery teammates who played for Team Canada, but they all seem to have put the game behind them, ready to focus on our season again.
But tonight our team isn’t the only undefeated team on the ice. This game is big for both teams. I need to get my head in the game.
Abbott University has more young guns trying to prove themselves. We have more seasoned players desperate to win a National Championship.
I’ve reviewed countless hours of film over the past two weeks in preparation for this game.
But one glimpse of Kenna has me in a tailspin. My only hope is the pills will help me focus and I’ll be able to zone her out. I have to.
