“Sounds good, and you know the drill: rest, ice, compression, elevation.”
“Yep.” Marcus walks off to work with another patient and I grab my phone to see if my cousin Tommy messaged. My mom dropped me off an hour ago before heading back home. Pete’s got conditioning today, so they enlisted help. I hate relying on other people so much, and it makes me grouchy. At least Tommy’s my ride today. He hasn’t pulled a chauffeur shift yet, so he’s not sick of my attitude like my other two drivers must be.
It makes sense that they call this injury the “unhappy triad,” because I’m unhappy as fuck.
There aren’t any messages from Tommy, but there’s a missed call from the Academic Affairs office at Bainbridge. I play the message and find out they’ve rescheduled my finals, but I only have until the end of the month. I guess they want me to be fully off the pain meds and totally lucid when I test, which technically makes sense. But what are the odds that I'd actually do better while I'm spacey as shit?
The door to my little rehab room opens and I reach for my crutches, thinking it’s Tommy.
But it’s Josie.
She’s wearing ripped jeans that mold to her ass and thighs, and a cardigan I’ve never seen before. It’s purple and it hangs down to her knees. Under it, she’s got a little white tee with flowers all over it, and that’s as far as I get. I’m not checking bra day status like a creeper.
“You shouldn’t be here,” I say. Honestly, I’m not sure how she made it past the front desk.
After the way I blew her off last week and ended things between us, I can’t believe she’s here at all. She deserves better than the way I treated her, but she also deserves the kind of life we were planning together. I’m not that guy anymore. By the time fall rolls around, I’ll be working a job I hate because I literally have no other options. I’ll be miserable and useless, and who the hell wants to be stuck with a guy like that?
“I’m serious, Jos. Things are over between us and?—”
Josie cuts me off. “I’m not here as your ex-girlfriend, nor am I here because I think there is anything left between us. There’s not, maybe there never really was. I am here because tutoring you is my job and I am a professional. You have about two weeks to prepare for your finals and finish any outstanding assignments. I’ve messaged you and sent emails. You’re blowingme off. If you’re just giving up, tell your coach and the athletic director. But if you want assistance, let me know. I was going to find you another tutor, so I wouldn't have to see you. Because frankly being in the same room with you after what you said to me? Well, it’s not something I’m looking forward to. But I am not a quitter. I made a commitment and I’ll see it through, because that’s what you do when you make a promise. If you decide you’re not a quitter either, let me know.”
Josie takes a deep breath, no doubt because that speech was way out of her comfort zone. Her face and chest are flushed and I bet her heart is racing.
“Josie, it’s better if…” I aim for gentle, but my voice ends up cracking so I just sound like a middle-schooler.
“Better?” she asks, tears running down her face. “What’s better, Van? Clearly not you and definitely not me, either. I need to leave. If you want help with your assignments, you know how to reach me.”
Her hands are shaking and so is her voice, all because of me and what a fucking asshole I'm being. But I can't stop. As much as it kills me, she needs to know that things are different now—I'm different now. So when she turns to leave, I let her go.
Even at my best, I was never good enough for her.
But now?
There's a hole in my heart. There's a space inside me that's missing. There's an ache in my soul that's greater than the sharp, insistent pain in my knee.
Josie's absence cuts through me until I'm raw and exposed.
And now she’s not the only one crying. I swipe at my eyes and shake my head. Josie’s the smartest person I’ve ever met, so why can’t she see that things are better this way? Or, at least they will be, in the long run.
The door swings open again and I’m not sure I have the willpower to break her heart again.
But this time it’s my cousin and he looks pissed. “Do you wanna tell me why your girlfriend ran out of here crying? What the hell did you do?”
I don’t answer his question. I just ask one of my own. "Is she still out there?"
Tommy ducks into the hallway, but he returns a few minutes later. "She's gone. What happened? Fucking answer me or I'm going after her.”
I send a quick message on my phone. “No need–Pete's on it.”
My cousin and I don’t talk on the way over to the hockey house, but once we get out of his car, he lets out a low whistle.
“Wow, this place is as shitty as everybody says.”
“Wait until you see the inside,” I say.
His eyes go wide as he helps me up the few steps so I can unlock the door.
I’m more grateful than ever that my bed is in the middle of the living room. I lie back and prop my leg up as Tommy takes a look around. He’s back before I can close my eyes and drift off to sleep. And he doesn’t look happy.
