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Ifshe’s even coming back.
I don’t know what Riley’s plans are, but this is crushing me. I haven’t ever felt this way about anyone before, and I don’t think I ever will again.
It’s crazy, and it feels like I’m going crazy.
“I don’t know, Benjamin,” I admit with a deep, sorrowful sigh. “I don’t know what I need or what I can do. I need to focus on hockey again; I know that much. I just…”
Benjamin takes a seat beside me. “Is it all the online abuse? I know that’s been rough. I sure as shit wouldn’t like any of that stuff said about me, but…”
I shake my head vehemently. At this point, it doesn’t matter what’s being said about me. I don’t give a shit. It’s vile, sure, and some of it is way too personal for my liking, but it’s what’s beingsaid about Riley that I think is a million times worse. She doesn’t deserve any of this.
If I could have it all on me, leaving her out of it completely, I would.
Unfortunately, I don’t have any control over any of that.
“I just need to work harder,” I shoot back through gritted teeth. “Then they won’t have anything to say about me. If I play better, then everything will be fine.”
Do I believe that? At this point, I don’t fucking know what I believe. Everything is so messy, I could scream. Maybe what I really need is a vacation away from it all.
If only…
The shadow of Coach standing in the doorway makes us all look up. He has a face like thunder, and of course, this is about me. With an irritated sigh, I rise to my feet and head into the office, where I know I’m going to get another dressing down.
This is becoming far too routine for my liking, and I fear that one day, Coach will be sick of yelling at me, just as sick as I am of hearing it, and he will get rid of me.
While I walk with my head hanging low, I don’t even think about what’s about to happen. I’m still thinking about this morning when I called Riley, only to get her voicemailagain. Is she ever going to talk to me again, or am I going to be stuck on this horrible end of a ghosting forever?
It’s not ghosting, I guess, because I know why she doesn’t want to talk to me anymore, but that doesn’t make it any less shitty.
“Take a seat, Alex,” Coach declares in a weary, pissed-off voice. “We need to talk about what we’re going to do with you because obviously things can’t carry on the way they are. This shit is getting serious now, and we’re becoming a laughing stock.”
Fuck.
I hate thatI’mthe cause of all of this. I can’t blame anyone but myself for it. I tried blaming Coach for forcing me to interact with the media when I didn’t want to, but I know this isn’t his fault anymore. I have to accept what I’ve done.
“I’m trying,” I promise him, but I don’t know how much he wants to hear this because it’s something I keep saying, but I don’t seem to be able to change anything. But I do want to keep trying; I want to get back to how I used to play before I met Riley.
Maybe it would have been better if I never met her at all.
My heart aches at this thought.
***
Fuck.
I promised, Ipromisedeveryone that I’d play well today. I swore that nothing would hold me back and that I wouldn’t be distracted for even a second. I vowed to myself that I wouldn’t eventhinkof Riley while on the ice tonight.
But I can’t help myself.
Her face keeps flashing up in front of my eyes; everything I do, there she is. She’s like a ghost, haunting me. I can’t shake her off no matter how hard I try. It doesn’t help that I keep thinking she might be in the crowd somewhere, watching me—for her job, maybe, or just as herself.
I’m sure she isn’t because the press would be having a field day. We aren’t immune to everything going on in the stadium while we’re playing, as much as we want to be. I haven’t noticed a thing.
So then I’m left wondering if she’s watching me on TV somewhere. That’s way more likely, but if she is, I’m sure she’s disappointed in me and the way that I’m playing, just like everyone else is.
Fuck, this is a disaster.
Every little mistake I make, I hate myself more.
