Ya bud. Come over around 8
TRISTAN
Can’t we sleep in for once?
JAKE
You can if you don’t want breakfast
TRISTAN
Damnit
Jesse has left this conversation
JAKE
Jake sits in the locker room long after practice ends, rolling the tape between his fingers, staring at nothing. The usual post-practice chatter has faded, leaving only the distant sound of skates scraping ice and the occasional thud of a puck hitting the boards. He should be out there, checking in withthe guys, but his mind is elsewhere—on Natalie, on Jesse, and on the mess everything has become.
Jesse is spiraling. He didn’t show up for the team meeting this morning. He didn’t answer his phone, didn’t even bother with an excuse.
He’s reckless at practice, pushing himself too hard, picking fights he has no business getting into. Off the ice, he’s skipping workouts and blowing off team obligations. It’s not only Jake who’s noticed. Barbier pulled him aside today, not bothering to mince words.
“MacDonald,” he’d said, voice sharp as a slap, “if you’re not gonna get through to him, then tell me who the hell will. Because if Mitchell doesn’t get his head on straight, he’s gonna tank his own career before it even starts.”
Jake had no answer. Because the truth is, he does not know how to fix this. And now, Barbier benched Jesse for the next game. The kid is fucking up his career, and it’s all his fault.
His stomach twists as he grabs his bag and heads to the parking lot. It’s been six days since he last saw Natalie. Six days since he touched her. Six days since Jesse caught them together and started spiralling. And he misses her—fuck, he misses her more than he can put into words. He keeps reaching for his phone, staring at her name, wondering if she’s thinking about him too. Wondering if she’s sleeping, or if she’s lying awake like he is, with the same awful weight pressing down on her chest.
Jake guns the engine of his truck and starts the short drive back to his apartment. He should’ve seen this coming. Jesse is young, impulsive, and, most of all, proud. The betrayal he feels, if justified, is fueling every reckless decision. And now, his career that he’s worked so hard for—that Natalie had worked so hard for—is on the line.
He knows she’s trying with Jesse. She told him this morning, quick and quiet over the phone. Jake didn’t say much—just listened. What was there to say? Jesse won’t listen to her either. And if Jake’s honest, there’s a bitter part of him that hates how Natalie feels stuck in the middle, like she has to pick a side. Likehemight be the side she doesn’t choose.
The apartment is dark when he walks in. Too damn quiet.
He drops his gear by the door with a thud, runs a hand over his face, jaw tight. He should be wiped, but he already knows he won’t sleep. He never does when she’s not here.
Natalie is everywhere here. The blanket she curled up under when she stayed over is still pooled on her end of the couch. His pillow still smells like her shampoo, and he hasn’t washed it—doesn’t want to. He’s not ready to let that last bit of her fade.
Jake exhales sharply and grabs his phone, his thumb hesitating over Natalie’s name before pressing call. He hasn’t talked to her since Jesse found out. Not properly. Not the way he wants to. And now, he dials her number with a pit in his stomach.
She picks up on the first ring, as if she’d been waiting. “Jake? Have you seen Jesse?”
No hello, no hesitation. Just raw worry.
Jake’s stomach sinks. He doesn’t want to tell her how badly Jesse is fucking up, but she deserves to know.
“No. He blew everyone off today. Missed a team meeting and a workout.”
“He still won’t answer my calls. It’s been days, Jake. I’m so worried.”
Jake clenches his jaw. This is bad.
“I’ll find him.”
Natalie exhales shakily. “Jake, I?—”
He waits, but she doesn’t finish the sentence. He knows what she wants to say. He misses her, too. But right now, Jesse has to come first.
