Page 30 of Full Body Hit, Part 1

He’d never shouted at his mom. At anyone, really. But he wanted to, sometimes. “I’m trying,” he wanted to holler. He didn’t need to be berated into wanting more, into trying to do better. God, he was so starving for it—it was going to kill him.

Did he only deserve love if he was good at hockey?

He pushed his fingers into his sides, digging at his ribs. He knew it wasn’t right to be this angry at his mom—she’d given him everything. Had birthed him at the peak of her career as a figure skater, which eventually led to an injury when she tried to make it back to the Olympics.

And she hadn’t complained. She hadn’t stopped taking care of Chase. She’d taken him to every practice and been to every game, pushing him into the player he was now.

He should be nothing but thankful. And he was, but…sometimes, when he felt this empty and sad and crushed, he wished she could be his mom and not just a hockey coach.

There was a wild, angry creature in his gut every time he was criticised for not trying enough, and he wasn’t sure what to do with it.

It wasn’t something he was supposed to feel…he just couldn’t stop. He—

“Yo, you want to get run over or something?”

Everything froze. His heart, the blood rushing through his veins, the howling creature in his stomach.

Of course Auston would appear right then to witness Chase at his lowest.

“Hello?” Auston called out sarcastically, steps echoing as he got closer.

Chase flinched violently as a hand landed on his shoulder, nerves flayed. He spun and shoved Auston away, barely able to breathe with him so near.

“Whoa!” Auston stumbled back, eyes wide. “What the hell?”

Chase stepped away too, feeling raw all over. “Don’t touch me.”

Auston raised his hands as if he were being arrested. “Jesus, okay. What the hell is up with you?”

“You, you don’t—” Chase couldn’t even get the words out, his mom’s voice still ringing in his head.

What if he wasn’t good enough to make it in the NHL? What if the only thing he’d ever been good at, the only thing that gave him worth, wasn’t that valuable after all?

“Fuck you,” Chase hissed. It came out of the pit of him, right from the creature’s throat.

“Fuck me? Fuck you, kid. Jesus, you’re all over the place. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“There’s nothing wrong with me,” Chase said, voice weak. It felt like a lie.

“Is this about the game?” Auston asked.

Chase shook his head instinctively, trying to ward Auston off. He couldn’t take anymore, please, God, he just couldn’t.

“Right, of course it isn’t. You know, it’d be a little easier to help you out if you actually showed that you gave a shit.”

Chase stared at him. How much more obvious could he be? What did he have to do to prove that he wanted to be better?

That he wanted to be good?

“You don’t know anything,” Chase whispered.

Auston threw his hands up, rolling his eyes skyward. “Right, sure. What do I know about any of this, huh?”

Chase managed not to shrink away from Auston as he walked past him.

Chase clenched his hands. Every muscle in his body hurt.

He made his way to his car, slamming the door behind him, breath leaving him shakily.