Page 23 of Breakaway Hearts

“Not particularly.” Old me would have cared. If my dad was still here, I’d maybe care. But as far as I’m concerned now, both teams can lose. “They asked Jason to join, and he turned them down.”

“After it happened?”

“Yes,” I agree. “But also this week.”

“I take it Jason was a goalie?”

“The best. He stops everything I throw at him, which isn’t saying much, but back in high school…shutouts weren’t a treat, they were expected. So many schools wanted him; he could have gone anywhere.”

“Did Jason choose Wynchester for you?”

“It was both of our first choice,” I argue, but I’m glad he’s participating, letting me go off track. “His dad went here.”

Dr. Kapoor smiles like that’s nice, but we’re not here to talk about Jason. So I take a deep breath and let it out.

“I’m the reason Jason stopped playing,” I admit. “That he turned the scholarship down. That he said no.”

“He told you that?”

“At the time, he did.” I bite my bottom lip, because the answer is right in front of me. Jason still watches. It isn’t like he stopped loving the game, he just got disillusioned about certain players and overlooked practices. “He hasn’t mentioned the new offer. I heard about it from other people, which might be because he doesn’t want to upset me…that’s probably the main reason. But I also think if he looked me in the eye and told me he turned them down, even if his reasons had nothing to do with me…I’d see he wanted to say yes.”

“That doesn’t necessarily mean it’s your fault. I might want to eat a double cheeseburger with bacon sometimes, but I’ll say no if you offer it, not because my wife thinks I shouldn’t, but because we both made the decision to be vegetarian.”

I appreciate this logic and want to latch onto it. But it only works if they were both equally interested in being vegetarians. Not if she saw a documentary on her own and he’s doing it in solidarity.

“You’re saying it’s not my fault and I shouldn’t worry about it?”

This is why I think therapy sucks.

“If what you need to feel safe is something that your friend is willing to do, even if it means giving up something else he loves, then you shouldn’t feel guilty, because that helps no one. I would suggest talking to your friend, because even if you can see the lie he tells to protect your feelings, him telling it means that is what matters most to him, and it’s not your place to take that away from him.”

“But,” I press. There’s always a but.

Dr. Kapoor sighs, like he isn’t sure he should say it, which tells me it’s something I need to hear.

“I became a therapist to help people. That might mean to assuage your guilt so you can accept the help you need. But it might mean helping you be okay with your best friend playing hockey. To not walk into every situation assuming the worst. To live your life instead of just surviving it.”

“You think I should let him play.”

“I think you do. I think you came back today, not because your friend pressured you with his concern, but because you want to be okay with him playing, and you think I can help you.”

“The last part is debatable,” I say, just to be argumentative.

“I’m willing to try if you are.”

Fuck.

I leave Dr. Kapoor’s office filled with dread. Knowing what you should do and being capable of actually doing it are completely different things.

“Finch!”

I cringe at the name the boys at school called me when we played on the same team. That Trevor never stopped using, even that night in his bedroom.

“What do you want?” I cross my arms and look at Owen expectantly, but the way his smile falters at my expression doesn’t feel half as good as I want it to.

“Is everything okay?” He furrows his brow, which usually implies concern. And is not helpful when I want to be annoyed with him.

“I’m fine, what do you need?”