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I raise my voice, relieved, "Yes, I got the binder." Dropping my bag and retrieving the binder, Lane approaches with a smile. "Thanks, Sutt, you're my favorite daughter."
Leia pouts and shakes her head, scolding her father, "Not cool, Dad. Not cool."
Lane takes the binder and returns to his desk. As I recall that I forgot to lock the door, I exclaim, "I didn't lock the door! Sorry, sorry, sorry, oh my God!"
Lane and Leia share a knowing smile at my distress, finding my anxiety-driven episode amusing. Lane alleviates my panic, reassuring me, "It's alright. My assistant coach will take care of it."
Finally able to breathe, I manage a shaky smile. Leia is still observing me, and I can tell she has more questions about the encounter. It's been a few months since my last bout of anxiety, and now I'm spiraling at the first sign of trouble.
I brace myself for the interrogation I'm bound to face during dinner. Leia leaps out of her chair, declaring to her father that we're starving and need to eat immediately. Despite the impending debrief, I'm more than ready. Today has been way too eventful, and perhaps stepping out of my comfort zone isn't in the cards for me this year.
Only time will tell.
CHAPTERTWO
LINCOLN
"Finish up and hit the showers!"Coach's voice reverberates across the ice.
I relish nothing more than the sensation of stepping onto the ice and giving it my all. It's my junior year of college, and my focus must be sharper than ever if I want to lead this team to the championship.
Despite my constant self-reminders that hockey is all that matters, I know it's a lie—a colossal lie I tell myself to mask the gnawing void within. Since starting college, I've felt like something essential is missing, even though I possess everything anyone could ask for: a loving family, a few close friends, hockey, school, financial stability, a car, food, and a place to rest my head. I could enumerate all the good things in my life.
So, why do I feel this unshakable sense of incompleteness? An indescribable something tugs at my heart. I attempt to bury it, relying on avoidance to fend off feelings, problems, and emotions. If I delve too deeply into my thoughts, I know I'll crumble. So, it's better to suppress these emotions and convince myself that my life is flawless as it is.
Yeah, I like the sound of that.
I brush aside these torturous thoughts as I stride into the locker room following an intense practice. Coach seems determined to push us to our limits.
I'd love to say that I'm inspiring and breathing life into this team, but that's far from the case. Avoidance might be an excellent strategy, but it often paints me as an asshole. While I'm comfortable with that label, my teammates deserve respite from my unyielding nature. Even though they're used to me, I can see it in their eyes—they regard me like a ticking time bomb. Cross me, and I might explode.
Of course, I've never actually fought anyone off the ice.
I quickly suppress my hostile appearance and adopt a neutral expression. I don't want my teammates to doubt my loyalty, but I'm not here to make friends. It's a delicate balance I navigate daily with these guys.
My best friend Ronan nudges my shoulder as he passes by. Despite my technical role as team captain, Ronan is the one who delivers all the motivational speeches during practice and before games. He's also one of the few people I enjoy spending time with, although I'd much prefer solitude. My introverted nature is no secret, but my family and Ronan are always trying to pull me out of my shell.
As an added bonus, Ronan can't resist teasing me, "Why the death stare for our teammates right now?"
I pull away and push him into his cubby for calling me out. "What? I'm not."
He catches himself before colliding with the wooden partition, bursting into laughter and wiggling his eyebrows at me. "Liar."
"Get lost."
His smile never wavers as he turns away and heads toward the showers. I return my attention to the task at hand, walking over to my locker to retrieve my towel and follow my customary post-practice routine.
Today, I indulge in a lengthier shower, allowing the warm water to soothe my aching muscles. I've been zoning out lately, and by the time I'm finished, everyone except Ronan has already cleared out. He stops by on his way out. "Want me to wait for you?"
I look up from tying my shoes. "Nah, I need to talk to Coach real quick."
"Okay, but don't be too late, baby. You owe me dinner tonight."
I crack my first genuine smile of the day at his peculiar remark. He can be an oddball at times, but he's been my friend since we were five, so I let it slide.
"Wouldn't dream of it." I shoot him a wink, knowing it'll make him laugh.
And, true to form, he chuckles like a maniac, shaking his head at me as he exits.
