I want to apologize. But something stupid and stubborn punches the thought away.
So I yank open the passenger door and hold it open for her, my voice rough.
“Just get in the car.”
The locker room is loud, but inside my head, it’s even louder.
I sit on the bench with a skate on my knee, thinking about the drive to Jessica’s place.
Every second of that car ride burns behind my eyes like a brand. She sat there, angled toward the window with rigid shoulders, staring out at the city like she wanted to open the door and roll out onto the asphalt just to get away from me.
And I kept stealing looks at her—how her hair fell over her shoulders, full lips that weren’t smiling.
Even pissed at me… she looked like something I shouldn’t touch but desperately fucking wanted to.
I pull the laces of my skate and tighten them.
I opened my mouth to apologize.
Twice.
The words were right there.
Jessica, I didn’t mean that.
Jessica, I shouldn’t have snapped at you.
Jessica, I’m sorry.
But my pride—my stupid, rabid, useless pride—shoved the apology so far down my throat I couldn’t force it out if I tried. I felt it rising, burning, clawing up my chest, and then dying before it hit my tongue.
I drag a hand down my face.
She deserves the apology, not me dropping her off like some asshole Uber driver and letting her walk away thinking I didn’t care.
I ghost my thumb over the skate lace, staring at it blankly.
I should’ve said something besides the bullshit I said earlier. But I didn’t because I’m an emotionally stunted asshole, and I’ve gone too long without being held accountable for it.
The room slowly empties, players heading out, chatter fading down the tunnel.
The only two people left are me and Zed, who’s currently tying his skates.
I sit across from him, and for a moment try to see the kid he used to be.
I clear my throat.
“Nice strategy against the Lions last week,” I say. “That glove-side bait was smart as hell.”
He simply nods once, so I try again.
“Remember when we used to run traps in junior?” I chuckle. “Coach Thompson used to lose his mind.”
“That was a very long time ago, Dominic.”
He says it without venom, just a flat fact.
“Yeah. Guess it was.” I nod, looking down at my skate.
