Lies
Drop it.
Dex
Can’t. You’re too entertaining when you’re being stupid about women. Which btw is always.
She’s dealing with enough without adding me to the list.
Dex
You know she’s single right? Jake confirmed it. No boyfriend, no complicated ex situation. Just her and a suspicious lack of someone warming her bed at night.
The image that creates is not helpful. At all.
That’s none of my business.
Dex
It could be your business. If you stopped being a coward about it.
I stare at my phone, at Dex’s words, at the truth I’ve been avoiding for weeks.
I want her. Have wanted her since she stepped onto that ice and refused to be intimidated. Want her when she’s competent and professional. Want her when she’s tired and trying to hide it. Want her in ways that go beyond physical therapy and the way she sees through my bullshit while carrying her own.
Another text comes through.
Dex
Matty would’ve already asked her out by week two.
The gut-punch of that truth makes me close my eyes.
Because Dex is right. Matty would’ve been all over this. Would’ve charmed her with terrible jokes and that easy smile. Made her laugh instead of just making her work harder. Matty would’ve taken the risk instead of sitting in a parking lot convincing himself it’s noble to keep his distance.
Yeah well Matty had game. I have a shoulder injury.
Dex
Had. You HAD a shoulder injury. Which is now healing. Which means you need a new excuse.
I don’t have a response to that. Don’t have a defense that doesn’t sound like exactly what it is. Fear dressed up as protection.
Because the thing about Matty is that he loved easy and hard and without reservation. And it still wasn’t enough. He still died alone while I was playing hockey, while I was being the responsible one, the one who had his shit together.
And maybe that’s what I’m really afraid of. Not that I’ll hurt Marnie or make her job harder. But that I’ll care about her the way I cared about Matty, and it still won’t be enough. That I’ll miss the signs again. That I’ll fail someone else who matters.
That I’ll let myself want something, and it’ll end the same way everything I want ends. With me standing in an empty space wishing I’d done more, said more, been more.
I drive home in silence. No music. Just the sound of traffic and my own thoughts circling the same conclusion I’ve been avoiding.
I’m in trouble. Not the kind that comes from injury or bad plays or even professional complications. The kind that comes from wanting someone in a way that makes everything else feel secondary. The kind that makes you stand in hallways watching them work. The kind that started the moment a woman in stockings stepped onto the ice and called me under-brained, and I realized I was dealing with someone who would never, ever let me get away with my usual shit.
I’m in trouble, and it’s been inevitable since day one.
And that pisses me off more than anything else.
5
