Okay, so the fucking phone does end up in my hand again.
Luke is … Luke matters. I protected him. I sacrificed for him. But I also sheltered him from understanding me.
Every interaction was a lie.
Everything Luke did was for nothing.
What will that do to him? Will it break him? That’s what I’ve doomed him to, and I’m too much of a coward to watch. Uncle Jasper taunted me with this, revealing me to Luke, and I feared his disappointment so much that I was willing to do anything, even kill for Uncle Jasper, so that he’d keep my secret.
Wouldn’t he love to see this? I’m sure he’s celebrating in Hell.
The second period doesn’t improve. I’m surprised no one’s been tossed from the game. I have to climb up the damn boards to yell at my dumbass players, but it’s like they’ve all been possessed, and no one listens to me—unheard of. But fuckface, otherwise known as Coach Bruce, finally gets on his team for all the unnecessary—yeah, I’m saying that—roughhousing, and North Point gets some shots on goal. They don’t get them past our goaltender, but at least they’re trying.
For the last half of the period, it looks like an actual hockey game.
I enjoy yelling at my team for half the intermission. Uncharacteristic of Fake Coach Tate, but everything I want from life right now. I’m frustrated with them, murderous over what’s going to happen with my brother, and losing my goddamn mind thinking about what’s happening for Ryan. What set him off?
I have to get to him. As soon as this shit game’s over, that’s what I’m going to do.
We hit the third period. This hockey game feels like it’s been going on for a thousand years. But North Point comes out with their heads down. Coach Bruce must have done a version of what I did in the locker room. They’re locked in. Focused. I stand with my arms crossed, occasionally calling to switch up the lines, but I’m otherwise absent from this game.
Ryan has turned into the Terminator on skates. Cold. Deadly. He intercepts the puck, it hits his blade with a crack, and he shoots … scores! But there’s no celebration from him or theirteam. Just a quick dip to the bench for some water. I keep my gaze on him, willing him to justlookat me.
He doesn’t.
So far away from me. Right fucking there, but miles away.
Is this what I’ve been missing by being in love? The ability to feel someone ripping themselves away emotionally?
I don’t know what’s going on in your pretty little head, dollface, but I’m going to remind you who the fuck your husband is.
Two minutes left, and Bruce pulls the big guy, their goalie. What was his name again? Don’t remember. Empty net. I won’t be commissioner anymore, so it’s not as dire that we win, and I’m half hoping North Point ties this up because Ryan’s been desperately trying to do that all period. But after his period-opening goal, no one’s been able to get one past our goalie, Lars. But we haven’t gotten past their human-shaped wall either. There’s no way North Point won’t get the bid and end up going to Regionals anyway. It’s better for everyone if this game ends.
McKinnon’s whacking his stick on the ice, defense tightens like we’ve practiced, they’re an unstoppable unit, even with six of North Point’s best on them—it’s just not North Point’s night, and the sun’s shining out of McKinnon’s ass brighter than it usually does.
And then.
Shit.
Chaos happens all at once.
Ryan barrels into McKinnon, and his head hits the boards. The puck’s loose, but only for seconds.
Shep had it plus open ice. It’s a clear shot straight into the empty net.Goal.The horn sounds, our team jumps, launching off the boards, sticks flying.
But Ryan hasn’t given up on his mission to kill McKinnon. Ace falls, his helmeted head hitting the ice. Ryan pounds on his cage with his fists as if he has the strength to punch through it, but all he’s doing is damaging his pretty hands. He’s going to get suspended for that shit. McKinnon looks unconscious, but it’s hard to say for sure.
Fuck it.
I’m about to hop over the boards and slide my ass across the ice in dress shoes, but the refs swarm in and pull him off Ace. Ryan fights them, body shaking, and a sound comes out of him that I’ve never heard before. Utter agony.
I can’t move, paralyzed by that sound. Something happens inside me. A breaking open. A ripping. My bones shattered to oblivion. Is this what being connected to another person means? Feeling the sharpness of their pain?
When I told Ryan I loved him, I meant it, but it was more from having made a logical—and delightful—conclusion. I gave up everything to have him, I always want to be with him, I never want to live without him.
So, gotta be love, right?
But now Ifeelsomething big. And how fucking cliché, but it’s in my chest. It’s not rainbows and running through meadows, though; it’s pain unlike I’ve ever felt before. It hollows me out, scrapes my insides raw, and leaves me a husk. My heart shredded, never to be put back together. Instant slaughter.
