Before I can question myself, I type out a reply and hit send. This little side quest was fun while it lasted, but real life awaits, and for me, right now, that’s not hanging out in a barwith my boyfriend and his friends. Apparently, it’s running like fuck back to my comfort zone of eighteen-hour workdays and keeping my head buried in the sand.
CHAPTER 34
Xavier
You’d have thought the crushing disappointment of not seeing Artemis after my game would have dissipated over the past couple weeks.
Spoiler alert: it hasn’t.
The disappointment isn’t a quiet thing either. It’s loud, prickly, living behind my ribs like a feral animal that hasn’t been fed since the night he walked out of that rink without looking back.
The weather’s taken a colder turn, everyone’s buzzing with travel talk, and since Thanksgiving is in the rearview, the halls are well and truly decked with eleventy bazillion Christmas lights.
Everyone’s in the Christmas mood. Except me. Every twinkle light feels like a personal attack. Like the universe is mocking me with cheer I can’t seem to scrape up, no matter how many peppermint mochas I chug. And I’ve had a lot.
There’s a black hole in my chest that’s growing by the day. This long-distance relationship was fun when I thought we could simply nip back and forth every few days to visit, but shit isn’t that easy when you’re, well, me and Artemis it seems.
The distance felt manageable when we were sprinting toward each other every few days. Now it feels like we’re both drowning in opposite oceans, waving through storms that never fucking line up.
Our game schedules aren’t lining up either. Other than our next face-to-face game in the new year, there aren’t any more games on the calendar where we can even go and watch each other play.
I tighten my scarf around my face as I walk into the frigid wind toward Brewd and Butter, where Lachlan, our team captain, is mandating study sessions to make sure none of us end up being benched over the coming weeks because of our grades.
Thanks to the giant, brooding distraction in the next state over, it’s taking every ounce of my time and energy to keep my GPA anywhere near a three-point-five. I might be constantly compared to my brother at every fucking turn, but if I get a higher GPA than him, if I ace my degree and give myself somethingotherthan hockey to rely on as a career, then maybe, just maybe, I’ll inch myself out from under his heavy shadow.
I’m so goddamn tired of chasing a shadow that doesn’t even know it’s blocking my sun. But am I even good enough to get that high a GPA? Doesn’t feel like it right now. It’s like I’m walking uphill in all directions, weighed down with a 200lb weight. The doubt is a slow poison. It’s easy to swallow, but impossible to spit out.
I can’t ask Artemis to help either. Turns out, he’s flunking a capstone class, one of the core components of his degree. I can’t figure out how he went from “I’ve got this, I’m acing this, don’t sweat it,” to “I’m failing strategic management, and might not pass business policy either.”
Actually, I do. He’s not sleeping, he’s barely eating, and he’s putting every, single spare moment he has into this fucking corporate takeover he’s engineering. Artemis said hesmells a rat. The FAA, Department of Defense, and antitrust regulators tried to block the merger because of national security concerns that no one could name.
He’s fighting it, because of course he is. That’s what my guy does. But other than send him a constant supply of very naughty treats he claims he shouldn’t be eating, along with the occasional tub of protein powder, and berating him nightly to get some sleep... I feel so fucking helpless.
Ironically, strategic management integrates all prior business knowledge. It’sthebig class that ties everything together. Artemis islivingthe class in real life, but he’s just so on the back foot, that his schoolwork is what’s slipping through the cracks.
Even Ares has reached out to ask if I can shake some sense into him. Actually, his message said, “fuck some sense into him,” but I didn’t want to get into the nitty gritty details that his brother still hasn’t let me top him yet. Good boys don’t kiss and tell, right?
I push open the door to the coffee shop, welcoming the warm gush of cinnamon-laced air that hits me in my cold as fuck face.
My phone pings with a message from Artemis. I’m now that pathetic man who has everyone else in the world silenced but Artemis has his own ringtone.Andhe’s on full volume.
Is dick-whipped a thing? Like pussy-whipped but for gays? Because that’s what I am.
Ice Prince: One of my critical suppliers pulled out. Manufacturing has ground to a fucking halt. My father is doing all he can to sabotage this merger. And that’s without even knowing who’s behind it.
My stomach drops as I approach the counter. All he needsis for shit to get even worse. He’s going to work himself into an early grave.
Ice Prince: Sent a trusted friend to do a site inspection yesterday. He found a number of equipment issues. Our manufacturing plants need massive, costly upgrades to meet safety standards.
Ice Prince: And by ‘ours’ I mean the new company. To be clear.
Ice Prince: I’m unravelling.
My pulse spikes. Not because he’s melting down, but because he’s finally letting me see it, telling me about it. Letting someone like him be vulnerable is like watching a glacier crack from the inside. And the sound is fucking deafening.
Ice Prince: Remind me again why I’m doing this.
Goal Daddy: To be honest, the rest of us don’t really know. But it’s important to you, so it’s important to me. I’m not surprised your dad’s being a dick, it’s par for the course for him. I am surprised he’s cut corners in the manufacturing plants. So much for elite aeronautics. I’m sorry, baby.
