“What’s wrong? Is the roadside service going to be even later?
“No, they should still be here in an hour or so.”
“Oh. I thought—”
“I’m not playing tonight. Even if I do get my ass there in time, Coach benched me for tonight and the next two games.”
“But you could still make it— I—”
“I can’t. And it doesn’t matter anyway. I’m benched. Coach won’t go back on that because I fucked-up. I should have never agreed to this. I knew it was dumb. I knew there was no way we should have left campus the night before the biggest game of the year.” I can feel myself get angrier and more frustrated with every word.
“Spencer, there’s no way we could have known we’d oversleep or that your car would break down. These things happen, and—”
“No. No, these things don’t just happen. They can’t just happen to me. I have an obligation, Paige. A responsibility to my team to fucking be there. It was selfish and irresponsible and I regret every minute of it.”
She gasps as though my words have slapped her, and I know I’m being harsh, but I can’t stop myself. My frustration is palpable and taking on a life of its own.
“Spencer—” My name is barely a whisper on her lips, but it grates all the same.
“I can’t do this, Paige. I can’t keep living in your world where everything is fine. I’m not cut out for it. And I knew it. I fucking knew it. That night we met and I came back downstairs to find you gone? I told myself it was for the best, and I was right. I don’t have time for this. I can’t afford distractions. My focus needs to be on every game and on my future—that’s it. And I know this. Every time I take my eye off the prize for one goddamn minute— I risk losing it all. I can’t lose it, Paige. I’m going to the NHL. I’ve worked toward that goal my whole life, and I can’t lose it.”
Her face is streaked with tears and she looks small against the door of my SUV. It breaks my heart to see her this way—and to know I’ve hurt her, but I have to. I can’t keep doing this. Something’s got to go, and it can’t be my hockey career.
“Spencer,” her voice is stronger now. “What the hell? It’s a shitty day, no doubt. I am truly sorry you’ve been benched,” I wince at her words. “But that is not my fault. You didn’t fight off my offer of a trip. You didn’t set your alarm, even though you always do. You didn’t make your car shit the bed, and neither did I. These things—”
I drum my fingers on the steering wheel. “Don’t. Don’t say it. Don’t tell me these things happen, because they don’t. Not if I’m in control. Not if I keep my focus where it needs to be. But I didn’t. I let myself think I could have a relationship, when the reality is, I can’t.”
“You’re seriously breaking up with me because you’ve had a shittastic couple of hours and your coach is pissed?”
“Yeah. Yes, I am. I have to. I can’t afford distractions—”
“You said you loved me.” She throws my words back at me, not in anger, but in absolute sadness.
“Paige, we were—”
“Don’t,” she repeats my words again. “Don’t you say it. Don’t tell me we were about to have sex and you said—” Her words break off into a sob.
“That’s not—”
“No. You’ve said enough. You don’t get to say any more.” She unbuckles her seat belt and reaches for her bag, just as headlights flash twice in my direction.
“Where are you going? Paige, you can’t leave. It’s not safe. What are you—”
“I’m so much safer out there than I am in here,” she says sadly. “And that’s Emma. She borrowed Lily’s car to come to our rescue. I tried to tell you earlier, but you kept cutting me off. I figured Em could drive you to your game, while I waited for the tow, but no. I’m taking that ride. Like you said, you’re already sitting out. And since I’m nothing to you, I see no reason to stay.” She pops the lock, steps outside, closes the door, and walks away.
Fuck.
Paige
Say what you will about Emma Fowler—she’s loud, she’s ragey, she’s a bit high-strung—but the girl can read a room. When I stepped into the car, tears streaming down my face and shoulders shaking, and asked her to get me the hell out of there, she put her foot on the gas, and we drove off.
She didn’t ask for the scoop, or even tell me that she’d be there when I needed her—I already know that. She squeezed my hand twice and sped down the highway.
We made it back to campus in just over half an hour. Emma considers speed limits to be suggestions. And she wasn’t entertaining suggestions today.
She had a final at four, so she dropped me off. I didn’t even make it to the stairway before I burst back into tears. But, almost everyone is gone for the holiday, or grabbing food before the hockey game, so no one was here to question my meltdown.
I’ve gone through a box of tissues since I’ve been home, and I’ve checked my phone at least a dozen times, but I’ve heard nothing from Spencer. Not even a text to see if I made it back ok.
