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Not playing with the team has made me realize how much I love hockey. I know it sounds outrageous because you’d think I’d know, right? I thought I did. But having time away has given me a new focus and clarity.
My next thought was Anastasia and the fact her dreams were back in reach.Jesus, I want to see her so fucking bad.
My bathroom is full of bottles that smell good, just like she does. I’ve never liked the smell of honey and strawberry as much as I do now that I haven’t seen her.
But she doesn’t want me near her. I saw it in her face when she thought I’d lied to her again. I want to call her; I’ve thought about calling her dozens of times, but I’m scared I’ll make everything worse.
Mattie told me how sad she looked when he saw her in class, and I hate being the reason for it. She must care for me a little, even if she doesn’t realize it. When I felt like I was at death’s door with my migraine and I violently and very unattractively vomited multiple times, she was beside me, rubbing my back.
When I passed out on her bed, and she climbed on to check my temperature, I pushed my luck and buried my head in her lap. I wanted to hide from the light that was making my brain fry, but she stroked my hair for what felt like forever. I tried to stay awake to appreciate it, but I couldn’t.
Sabrina is sick of me asking how her best friend is. Every time I even mention Stassie, she tells me LAPD has tons of unsolved crimes I can confess to and to annoy them instead of her.
It’s wordy, so you’d think she’d shorten it after two weeks, but no, she’s very committed to her craft. As much as she likes giving me a hard time, I know she’s stuck in the middle and is super upset. Robbie told me Anastasia forbids Sabrina from even mentioning any of us, which only makes me feel worse.
I wanted to text her to say good luck for sectionals but chickened out when I thought it might stress her out. I want things to go back to normal more than I’ve ever wanted anything.
Getting away from Maple Hills and smashing UT Austin 8–3 was an excellent way to put my drama to the back of my mind.
I was worried I’d be rusty, but everything was perfect other than Joe and JJ living in the penalty box like they were paying rent. I’ll let Robbie deal with them because I’m in too good of a mood.
For now, anyway, it might not last long since I’m sneaking across the hotel lobby with two bags from the liquor store.
Technically, it’s not illegal because I’m twenty-one, but Faulkner won’t see it that way if he catches me passing around bottles of Jägermeister. I was picked to take the risk; the guys say I owe them because they had to take all the shit Robbie normally gives me when I wasn’t there.
Pressing my key card against the door, I push the handle down when the light flashes green. Most of the guys are already in the room I’m sharing with Robbie and Henry, putting their sweaty feet all over my bed.
It feels more like walking into a funeral than the room of a team who just won a game. “Who died?” They all turn to look at me, identical somber faces. “I was joking, but now I’m not sure. Why are you all looking at me like that?”
They look between each other, and Kris is the first to clear his throat. “Faulkner is looking for you, dude.”
“I haven’t even opened a bottle yet.” I laugh, putting the bag on the desk. “How can I be in trouble already?”
“It’s not that,” Robbie says, running a hand down his face. “Aaron can’t skate again, Nathan. You’re back on the bench.”
“What the fuck do you mean he can’t skate?” I yell.I’m going to get another fucking migraine. “Did they compete?” Silence. “Can someone please tell me what the hell is going on?”
“He dropped her,” Henry says flatly, walking over to the bags and pulling out a bottle. “His wrist gave out when they performed, and he dropped her.”
* * *
I’ve been sitting outsideof Maple Tower for thirty minutes, and I still haven’t managed to make it inside yet.
Fifteen of those minutes were me on the phone with Sabrina, trying to convince her to give my name to the concierge so I could get a code for the elevator. The other fifteen have been mentally preparing for Anastasia to kick me out.
Faulkner confirmed what the guys said when I found him. Aaron’s injury gave out while they were on the ice; he tried to catch her on the way down, injuring himself further.
“I’m sorry, Hawkins,” Faulkner said, handing me a beer from the minifridge. “We’ll know more Monday, but Skinner wants you benched from what’s been said so far.”
I don’t care about myself right now. I’m thinking of my team like I always am, but mainly I’m thinking about her. I won’t be able to stop thinking about her until I see with my own eyes that she’s okay.
There’s an ache in my stomach the whole elevator ride. Thankfully, Brin didn’t ask for me to be forcefully removed, and I was let into the building. Knocking my knuckles against the door three times, I step back. The ache intensifies, and my heart feels like it’s beating in the wrong rhythm.
The distinct Brooklyn harshness I’m used to being thrown in my direction echoes on the other side of the door. The door swings open and Sabrina leans against the frame. “If you make her cry, Nathan. I swear, your dick will live in a jar in my room, and I’ll make it my life’s mission to ensure you are never happy again.”
“Noted.”
Dragging me in by my sweatshirt, she huffs as she closes the door behind me. “She’s in her room and she doesn’t know you’re here. Be patient with her, she’s tough, but she’s vulnerable at the moment.” Behind her, Aaron peeks out of his bedroom, then slams the door shut when he spots me. Brin mutters something in Arabic under her breath and rolls her eyes. “Everything is out of her control, Nate. She’s not a girl who likes being out of control.”
