“Yes, you are,” she chokes out. “It was convenient. I made you look good. Made things easier. And I was a reliable fuck with no real strings, right? I’m telling you I can’t do that anymore, so we’re done.”
That insult lands, and anger builds in my stomach. A reliable fuck? “You agreed to the deal.”
“Jack, this isn’t about the dumb deal anymore.” Izzy picks up a mug, then realizes it’s empty and sets it back down with a frown. She clears her throat, wincing. “Maybe no one else notices, or maybe they don’t want to, because if they admit something’s wrong, they have to accept the truth of what that means for you.”
She steps closer to me in the kitchen.
“But I see it. Since that night in the hospital. I fucking called you out on it after Thanksgiving, and you still pretend like everything is fine.”
I don’t move. I can’t breathe.
“If you don’t speak up, you could do permanent damage to your body, or worse, die. Why are you hiding?”
“Isla.”
“The fact that you’re keeping it a secret tells me everything.” She wraps the blanket tighter, tears in her eyes. “You don’t trust me enough to let me all the way in. And I hate that.”
“That’s not fair.” I finally turn and slam the faucet handle down. I brace my hands wide on the counter. The silence thatfollows is deafening. “What the hell am I supposed to do? Tell Coach and get benched? Risk them buying out my contract? Retire? I’m still a great hockey player. I’m telling you, we’re going to make a run for the Cup this season. I’m fine. Everything is fine.”
“Except I’m going to be the one who’s left here waiting, wondering when you’re going to get hurt next and if it’ll be the last time.” She clutches the blanket with one hand, then wipes at her eyes with the other. “And if you don’t care about me, think of your family, because they love you. I wish my family loved me as much as they love you.”
“I can’t just walk away from hockey.”
“I’m not asking you to choose.”
“It sure as fuck sounds like you are.” I hate the way that sounds. “Sorry.” I rake my hands back into my hair. “You’re everything to me.” I close the distance, standing toe to toe with her.
“Then say it. Say you love me and that you’ll stay, and that you’re not still with me to feel better about yourself.”
I open my mouth. I want to say it. I want to promise I’ll quit, that I’ll tell Coach, that I’ll be safe. But the game is the only thing I’ve ever known. If I give that up, who is she even looking at?
So I say nothing.
The blanket slips from her shoulders. She grabs a tissue from the kitchen table, blows her nose, and drops it on the floor with the rest of the wreckage.
“Get out,” she says. “Please. Jack… please go.”
“We can fix this. I sure as hell don’t want to lose you.”
Izzy walks to her front door and opens it, the icy December air swirling around us. “This was never meant to last, so let’s just end it now. I’ll tell anyone who asks you’re busy focusing onyour homestand, and you can still have your meeting with Summit.”
I walk through it because I don’t know how to stay. The door slams behind me, then I’m met with the heavy thud of the deadbolt.
I press my forehead against the wood, closing my eyes against the stabbing pain in my temples.
“Izzy, let me in. We’ll talk later, figure this out, but let me take care of you. Please.”
“It’s just a cold,” she whispers from the other side. But I can hear her crying.
I came here to save us, but I’m standing on the wrong side of the door, and for the first time in my life, I don’t have a play to make.
Chapter 25
Izzy
“Izzy, sweetheart, it’s Bridget and June. Open up. We brought soup.”
I choke as I wake up, passed out on the couch in a puddle of my own drool. I think it’s day three or four since catching the plague. I’ve been unconscious for most of it, thanks to my friend NyQuil, which is the only way to humanely survive a cold.
