Chase: A Devil & his Birdie: Havenwood University Book Two

Chapter 10

I’M STANDING in front of Coach’s office door and dig my hand out of my pocket to knock. I feel disconnected from myself standing here waiting to meet my maker. Like I’m watching from outside my body or something. Whatever is about to happen will be life-changing and I know I won’t walk out of here the same as when I walk in after facing him.

Coach has the ability to cut my career, squash my childhood dreams, and obliterate any chances I have of making it to the NHL. His program is nationally recognized for turning more college players into NHL prospects than any other Coach in the country.

He can break me… but I’m already broken. You would think I’d be revolting against this, that I’d be thinking of a thousand ways to save my ass and convince him to keep me but I’m not. I’m numb. Completely fucking numb.

I’ve already shown him and my team that I’m a fuck up. I don’t deserve to be here and it’s finally catching up to me. I’ve been playing on autopilot, relying on years of training, and my instinct for the game to get me through. My heart isn’t in it. My head isn’t focused. I’m dead weight and everyone fucking knows it.

I roll back on my sneakered heels and it intensifies the familiar burn that runs through my feet. They’re sore as hell after my 4 AM run, morning skate, and now standing here on worn-out soles. The cushioning on these sneakers is basically non-existent at this point. I can easily order another pair but I won’t. I like how it hurts and it pulls me back into the present.

Coach’s muffled voice filters through the door and I hear him say my first and last name to whoever he’s talking to. Chase Wilton, what a fucking waste. He says goodbye and I know this is it. He’s gonna open that door and cut my ass.

I’m waiting for my body to break out in a sweat, to feel my protein shake sour in my stomach, or for my mouth to go dry. But I don’t feel a thing besides my feet being on fucking fire.

Coach yanks the door open and fills the entire doorway. He’s a big guy and once upon a time, he scared the shit outta me. I should be scared now but I’m not. I should be on my knees begging for another chance to prove myself, but instead, I slouch in my hoodie and try to make myself as small as possible while he pinches his face together and looks me up and down. Fuck.

“Get in here, Wilton. Sit and keep your mouth shut, I’ve got shit to say to you and you’re gonna listen until I’m done,” he demands and I do what he says. I sit and try to melt into the chair but it’s no use. I’m still here. This is where it all ends. Where he tells me he’s sick and tired of my shit and cuts me from the team.

He rounds the corner of his desk and takes a seat. He leans forward on his elbows and shifts his weight before resting his chin on his left-handed fist. He’s staring at me and I swear he sees right through me. He’s quiet. Too quiet.

I rather have him yelling and screaming than sitting here staring at me in silence. It’s freaking me the fuck out.

“Do you know why you’re here?” he asks with a steady and stern voice.

“Because I’m not playing to the best of my ability, Coach,” that doesn’t seem to be the answer he’s looking for and his eyes slightly soften which surprises the hell outta me.

“That may be true, and we’ll get to that, but in this particular case, your game isn’t my first concern. Your mental health is. We’re here to talk about you and how you’ve been struggling.” What the fuck? My eyes widen and feel permanently stuck.

Of all the things he could’ve led with, I really wasn’t expecting that to come out of his mouth. It was honestly the last fucking thing I thought he would say. This is D1 college hockey, there isn’t room for empathy.

“What your sister went through last semester was hell and I’m glad she’s on the other side of it. You, however, are not. You have struggled every day since you faced those two goddamn animals on the ice. You’ve been on a downward trajectory. You’re stuck in your head and depressed, Chase. I see it and your team sees it. You’ve lost weight, you look like hell, and you’re determined to run yourself into the ground. Everyone is concerned. Your teammates are worried. I’m worried, too.”

My skin feels itchy and my head feels heavy as I listen to his words. It’s too much. I want to get the fuck outta here. Go back home and lock the goddamn world out. Stay in my bed until the day fades away and I can go see her.

“You look like you’re about to jump out of that chair and I don’t blame you. This is hard to talk about, but we need to have this conversation. You’ve got a bright future ahead of you but you can’t see the light right now. You’re so far in the dark that you can’t put one foot in front of the other let alone lace up skates. You’re one of the most talented players I’ve ever coached, but you’re not okay right now.

If you want to stay on this team then you need to do the work and I’m not talking about on the ice, you need to go to therapy. I’ve spoken to the Athletics Department and it’s now a condition of your scholarship. I’ll keep you on my team if you report to the Wellness Center before the end of the week. I was on the phone with them before you walked in, they’re expecting you.”

“I… don’t know what to say, Coach,” the numb feeling I had earlier is replaced with gnawing anxiety. I feel vulnerable as hell and I really don’t fucking like it. I squint my eyes shut and turn my face away from him. It’s like a giant spotlight is showing him every flaw, every fuck up, and every splintered piece of me. He can see every-fucking-thing. I feel so ashamed. And I fucking should be.

“Say you’ll go. Say you’ll commit to yourself and to getting better. That you’ll come back to the ice and your team with your head in the game. We want you to feel your best, son. You’re worth it, Chase. Do you know that?” A lump forms in my throat and I swear to the hockey gods above, if I cry in front of my fucking Coach, I’ll string up my own balls with my skate laces.

“I’m really not though. You sure you don’t want to just cut me?” My eyes are wet and I try to blink the moisture away. It’s all too much. He’s wrong… I’m not worth it, doesn’t he see that? Just take the out, Coach…cut me loose.

“Fuck no, you’re my leading scorer, there’s no way I’m cutting you. Hear my words, Chase, I’m not giving up on you, not as my player or as a person. I’ll say it again, you deserve to feel your best and I want to help you get there. Let me.” Fuck Fuck Fuck.

My goddamn eyes are leaking and I wipe my face. The stubble on my jaw is creeping up on my cheeks and I use my sweatshirt sleeve to wipe my nose. It smells like dried sweat and I think there’s dried blood from the fight I got into Saturday night. I guess I’ve been wearing it since then. Damn, I really am a mess.

“Will you think about it?”

“Yeah, Coach, I’ll think about it,” that’s honestly all I can say. I need to let all of this settle and think about what I want to do. Today’s the first day of the new semester and it feels like this could be a good thing. Maybe. I’m not sure yet.

I spent the rest of Monday laying face down in my bed and skipped my first class of the semester. I didn’t move until my bladder was about to explode and resorted to taking piss after piss in empty water bottles. The bathroom felt too far away.

When my stomach was threatening to eat itself, I felt around my bedside table and found a half open bag of popcorn and a brown banana to scarf down.

I stayed in my hovel until 9PM when I got up to go for a run. The walls of my room felt like they we’re closing in on me and it was hard to breathe. I needed to make a break for it.

I’ve been thinking about Sloane for hours and I’m white knuckling the urge to go find her now that it’s night time. It’s gotten to the point that the damn angel is throwing her hands up and shooing me away. The devil is literally dragging me out of the house.

It doesn’t take long for me to find her. I had an idea of where she would be after checking her socials. I ran a few miles and looped back to campus before finding a spot. I’m jogging in place and keeping my body moving near the performing arts building until her dress rehearsal finishes up.

Watching her walk through those doors has me instantly feeling better. I’m finally able to take that breath my body was craving when I was hiding in my room. She takes an unexpected detour to the library and I wait outside. Take as long as you need, gorgeous girl, I’ll be right here.

I check my smart watch and hate that it’s so fucking late and she’s alone. Since B’s attack, campus security has ramped up but still, it’s all the more reason for me to stay nearby. I’ll wait all night if I have to. There’s no way I’m letting her walk home by herself in the goddamn dark. There can be creepers out here for fucks sake.

When she walks through the library doors, she’s with Edison for a few moments before she walks down the paths to her apartment. I feel lighter the longer I’m near her. It’s like she’s lifting some of the heaviness Coach laid on my shoulders during our meeting.

I don’t want to fucking do therapy. I’ve tried it and it didn’t work. I also really don’t like that him and my team are talking about me. I’ve tried to keep the focus on my sister and not my shit. They shouldn’t be paying any more attention to me than necessary.

The light breeze sends her scent straight into my nostrils and it wakes up my dick. She smells like all my favorite things. I’m starting to crave her more and more. I’m a fucking fiend.

I tuck around the oak tree and crouch behind a few big bushes to keep me hidden away before I drop down to my haunches. I look up at her window and the light’s on. The smile that takes over my face is fucking instant.

I see movement and she peeks her pretty head out and looks over campus. She feels me. I know she does. She looks right down at the spot I’m hiding in and looks relaxed. Content. Fucking beautiful.

I’m lost in my head and surrounded by wild thoughts. Dirty fucking thoughts. I press down on my hard dick and have to swallow a groan. I need to get the fuck outta here.

I make sure no one”s around and slip away to bolt home. My feet are fucking killing me and I feel the familiar burn in my heels. I grind my teeth together and push harder, thinking of her the whole time.

I’m prepared to ignore everyone and beeline for my room but the house is surprisingly empty.

I drop back into my bed and think about the night she slept in here. Right in this bed. She wore that dark green lace nightie and looked like she stepped off a fucking runway. She was so goddamn beautiful with her angelic face and that sinful body.

My dick is throbbing now. I haven’t been with anyone since that August afternoon when I met her. I shimmy out of my sweatpants and give myself a few firm pumps. I smear the drops of precum over my dark red cockhead. I’m so keyed up thinking about her that it only takes a couple of minutes before I cum all over my damn hand.

I’m laying in the dark in a post orgasm haze, and smile for the first time in days. My fix of Sloane tonight hit different and has me falling asleep and dreaming of warm whiskey eyes and forgetting about everything else that happened today.