Chapter 10 Axel
“Things are looking good,” the doctor consoled him again. “That you lost weight this summer isn’t a bad thing.”
“Gee, thanks,” the defenseman said, feigning insult. Because if he was being honest, he didn’t feel insulted.
He didn’t feel much of anything at all.
If he had lost weight, it wasn’t to take pressure off his back while he recovered from last season’s injury. He lost weight because even eating was a chore. One more thing he did because he was expected to. Along with showering and driving and talking to people and working out.
He became very good at doing the things he was expected to do. He was terrible about giving a shit one way or another.
His back didn’t hurt but other parts of his body were unbearable. His bones felt brittle and his chest heavy.
The overgrown beard that sprouted through the summer hid the pain in his jaw. Pain from grinding his molars so hard every time he thought about Oleanna. And he thought about her a lot.
Still, he’d take the doctor’s good news and follow the trainer’s advice. He would do his job and train every day. Prepare for another season of hockey. Axel would cling to the consolation that he got to keep the one thing he was good at: his career.
Except, for the first time in his life, it wasn’t enough.
After a mindless, flavorless meal of chicken and a salad, Axel took a shower.
Every night, he promised himself he would not jerk off to the memory of her moans of pleasure or the taste of her arousal when he pressed his face to her salty-sweet center.
Every night, with loads of self-loathing and zero self-control, he jerked off to the memory of the woman he wanted but couldn’t have.
A woman he couldn’t even find.
Afterward, he lay in bed and prepared the solemn ritual. He wasn’t a religious man, yet something about holding her bracelet in his palm felt holy. It was a relic that connected them to each other.
He couldn’t sleep until he stared at her pictures one at a time, tracing details of her face with his fingers. The ritual calmed him even as it stirred the deepest unrest in his heart. Unrest that triggered the need to find her, dammit.
But where to start?
And why should he search for a person who didn’t want to be found?
She left freely.
He was desperate for Oleanna, but she wasn’t lost or helpless or confused. She voluntarily left without a trace. The woman of his dreams walked away, confirming that his feelings were simply not reciprocated and that his hope for a future with her, less than futile.
When he printed photos off his phone, it was to provide himself proof—physical and tangible—within his grasp. Being with Oleanna was fleeting, but it was real when it lasted. He needed to relish the realness of it in the palm of his hand.
Suddenly, his hopelessly foolish ritual was disrupted.
It was gone.The photo of them together was gone.
He shot out of bed and patted around him to see if it dropped. Maybe it fell to the back of the dresser. Axel pulled the drawer right out.
“No, dammit, no,” he mumbled frantically.
He could print another copy, sure, but that wasn’t the point.
Losing the picture was a bad omen. Like he would lose her a little at a time. As if the days away from her would steal his memories as cruelly as fate let her slip away.
Maybe the cleaners knew something about this. He would call first thing in the morning.
He lay awake in bed, waiting for morning to come.