The song ends, and some twangy beat picks up.
“This song sucks,” I mutter as I sip my beer.
Nick shoves my shoulder. “What’s your deal, dude? You’ve been in a bad mood the past few days.”
“Yeah, what’s up with you?” Leo asks.
I huff out a breath, feeling guilty for being such a dick.
“I’ve just been stressed. Sorry. Didn’t mean to take it out on you guys,” I say.
“Are you moody because you haven’t hung out with Briar much lately?” Nick asks. “I haven’t seen you two much. You’re usually joined at the hip.”
Guilt claws through me when I think about the way I’ve acted around Briar these past few days.
“She’s been busy too,” I lie.
The truth? I’ve been a jerk to her.
I really didn’t mean to be. The night we fooled around and she showed me my secret account, I fell into a panic spiral. I was so freaked out that someone would recognize me as That Shirtless Guy, that I isolated. I spent the next two days in between practice, training, classes, and traveling for an away game, by myself, examining every photo and every reel I ever posted. I wanted to make sure there were no identifying images in them. I wanted to make sure no one could trace the account back to me.
Because if they did, I could lose everything—my spot on the Hollis U hockey team, my future in hockey, and the money I planned to give to my parents.
I was on edge, fueled by panic and anxiety. It felt like I couldn’t breathe.
But after I finished scrutinizing my account, I started to calm down. And that’s when clarity set in: I abandoned Briar. Right in the middle of our sex lesson.
That guilty feeling slices deeper, carving into my gut.
She was so vulnerable in that moment, trusting me to open up. And I just left her.
I think about how she texted me to check up on me, but I was so deep into my panic spiral that I blew her off.
But then the other night happened…she had that nightmare about her ex.
I think about waking up from a dead sleep to the sound of her trembling voice…how scared she was…
No, please. Stop!
I can hear the panic in her voice, how terrified she sounded. A sick feeling roils through my gut at how she was reliving the moment that bastard tried to force himself on her.
Something inside of me snapped. In that moment, I didn’t care about anything other than comforting her and making her feel safe.
So I moved next to her in bed and held her in my arms until she fell asleep. And that’s when everything felt good and right again.
In the morning, I left for an early practice. Then I had conditioning and meetings with the assistant coaches and trainers.
As soon as I was done with everything, I texted her to check in with her. But she never responded.
A sinking feeling lands at the pit of my stomach. She’s probably upset and hurt from how hot and cold I’ve been the past few days.
I don’t blame her for ignoring me. She has every right to after the way I ignored her.
But I still feel like crap. I miss her. I want to talk to her. I want to make this right.
I want to apologize to her, but I don’t want to do it over text. That doesn’t seem like enough. I need to do it in person. I need to show her just how much I regret the way I treated her.
I pull my phone out and text Briar again.
