25
Campbell
The dinner table felt quiet, a strange contrast to the usual chatter that filled the space. Morgan would yammer on about her latest obsession, and my father would throw in sharp, clipped remarks, his voice filling every corner of the room. Tonight, though, it was different. A heavy, ominous tension hung in the air. I could feel it building in my chest, like the calm before a storm.
And I knew what it was about. Leaving soon burdened me, yet it wasn’t the primary weight; I’d evaded an unspoken truth. The thing I couldn’t keep hiding from. My father’s inevitable opinion on Hazel. I waited, yet this moment proved no simpler. Morgan, oblivious to the weight on my shoulders, started babbling about something she overheard from her friends, her voice light and unbothered, as if she wasn’t at all aware of the storm cloud hanging over me. Then, almost casually, she dropped it.
“I even got to meet Hazel,” she said, her voice full of curiosity. “She’s so pretty.”
I froze. I didn’t know what I expected—maybe a little awkward silence, maybe a quick change of topic—but my father’s eyes snapped to mine, sharp and calculating. It was like he knew what she meant. I felt his burning gaze forcing me to speak.
“I like her,” I said, my voice a little more strained than I intended. “I met her at college, she’s…” I trailed off, unsure how to explain her to them. How could I sum up what she meant to me in a few words? “She’s someone I care about.”
My father’s fork froze mid-air. He didn’t blink, didn’t react right away. His face hardened, his jaw tightening as he set the fork down. He stared, contemplating a response. I wished I hadn’t spoken as the room grew tense. His voice cut through the silence like a blade.
“You’ve got no time for that,” my father said, his tone cold, like the words were just an afterthought. “Not with what you’ve got ahead of you. Hockey is your ticket to success. Don’t throw it all away for some girl.”
His words felt like a physical blow. His voice, always familiar, always stern, echoed in my mind. This house prioritized hockey above all else. My father always expected me to be the best, to never falter, and to meet a standard I could never seem to attain in his eyes, regardless of my effort. I failed to meet his expectations as a son. And now, with Hazel, it seemed like I wasn’t good enough to have something else in my life, either.
“She’s not some girl ,” I said, my voice hinting at my anger. “Hazel’s different from—”
But my father cut me off before I could finish.
“Don’t be na?ve.” His words were sharp, dismissive. “You’ll only mess things up, Campbell. You don’t know how to love anyone without screwing it up. I’m telling you this for your own good.”
I felt my chest tighten, my heart thudding in my ears. I wanted to argue, to fight back, but I couldn’t. Not with him. Not when he was so certain. Everything I’d ever done had been in pursuit of his approval. But no matter how hard I tried, it was never enough. And now, here I was, on the verge of caring about someone, and he was already telling me I would ruin her, just like everything else I touched. Something inside me snapped. Hurt, anger, disbelief: a wave I couldn’t stop.
“I’m not like you, okay?” I shouted, the words bursting out of me before I could stop them. “I won’t ruin her. You know nothing about her. About us.”
His eyes narrowed, the contempt in his gaze deepening.
“You think you’re any different?” His voice dropped, low and cutting. “You’re a screw-up, Campbell. Just like your mother. You’ll ruin her too, just like everything else you touch.” His words sliced through me, cutting deeper than anything else he had ever said. My mother. The word hit me like a gut punch. I could feel the familiar ache in my chest, the weight of rejection pulling me down. Every word seemed to confirm my fear of disappointing. “That’s what you do,” he continued, his voice colder now. “You destroy things.”
I froze, the air in the room thickening, suffocating me. His words echoed in my mind like a mantra, and for a brief second, I wondered if he was right. Perhaps my broken and messed-up state prevented my success. Hazel was just another thing I would ruin.
“You’re wrong, Dad.”
“You’ll ruin her, just like you ruin everything, Campbell.” His voice dropped again, colder, sharper. “You’re difficult to love. You’ve always been difficult to love.”
I couldn’t breathe. I stood there, frozen, his words reverberating in my chest, gnawing at me like some kind of poison. You’re difficult to love. I’d heard it before—my father had said it countless times over the years. Now, understanding dawned. Maybe he was right. Hazel deserved better.
I thought about her, though. Her laugh, the way her eyes lit up when she talked about her dreams. She differed from anyone I’d ever known. I wanted to be the guy who supported her, who helped her chase those dreams. But could I be that guy? Could I be the guy worth loving? Could I fulfill her needs when I couldn’t even meet my father’s expectations?
I stood up, my chair scraping against the floor, the noise cutting through the thick tension in the room. I couldn’t take it anymore. I looked at my father one last time, my heart pounding in my chest.
“Maybe I am a screw-up,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “Maybe I’ll mess everything up.” My father’s jaw tightened. His silence was always worse than his words. This was how he controlled you. He makes you believe you’ll fail before you even try. I exhaled. He won’t win now. “But I care about her.” My voice broke. “And you don’t get to tell me who’s worth it or not.” I paused, my heart heavy, as if every word was tearing me apart. “I’ll figure it out on my own.”
I didn’t wait for a response. I grabbed my jacket, my hands trembling, and stormed out of the room. I didn’t care about his silence or his stony stare. I needed to escape.
The frosty night air hit me the second I stepped outside, but it did nothing to numb the ache in my chest. I didn’t know what came next, didn’t know if I was even strong enough to make it through. But for once, I didn’t care. I just knew I couldn’t go back to that place. Not yet. Not until I figured out who I was—and who I wanted to be for Hazel.
**
The rink was quieter than I’d remembered, the stillness that makes you feel you’re the only person left in the world. The cold air scraped against my skin, my breath fogging up in front of me as my skates cut through the ice, a rhythm I’d perfected over years. But today? Today it felt off.
Every puck pass aimed at the net was not so much about scoring as it was about quieting the swirling thoughts in my mind. I’d been skating like this for hours, but nothing could clear the noise, the guilt, the constant reminder that I’d fucked things up.
I hadn’t stopped avoiding her. I told myself it was for the best. That keeping distance was the right thing to do, that she was better off without me. But the truth? I’d never felt more empty. Every time I saw her, my chest clenched in ways I couldn’t control. I wanted her, but I wasn’t sure I was worthy of her. I couldn’t bring myself to be the man she needed. So, I pushed her away. Convincing myself it was for her own good.
Another slapshot. Another empty net. I wasn’t even paying attention anymore. Instinct guided my actions; my preoccupied mind was unfocused. And that’s when I heard it. The unmistakable sound of boots against the ice, a soft, hesitant thud that made my heart stutter.
“Campbell.”
I didn’t turn right away. I could feel her presence before I even saw her—Hazel, standing there, like a ghost in the empty rink. I focused on the puck, even though it was pointless. My thoughts raced. I couldn’t look at her. Not like this. Not after everything I’d done.
When I turned, I was unprepared for what I saw. Her eyes were red, like she’d been crying, and her body language was stiff, like she was trying to hold herself together but failing. Her exhaustion, physical and emotional, weighed heavily, and I reproached myself for causing it. I wanted to apologize and offer reassurance. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t bring myself to break the walls I’d built.
“Why have you been avoiding me?” She asked, her voice small but sharp.
It cut through me like a knife, the question that made me feel like a complete asshole. My throat tightened, and the words stuck there, impossible to voice.
“I’m not avoiding you.” I said, but even I didn’t believe it.
My face spoke volumes; I couldn’t meet her eyes.
“Don’t lie,” she snapped, stepping forward, each step of hers like a challenge. “You’ve been pushing me away for days. What happened, Campbell?”
Her voice was full of frustration, and that only made me feel worse. I wanted to defend myself, to explain that I wasn’t doing this to hurt her. But I couldn’t. Because I knew why I was pushing her away. And the truth would only hurt her more. I took a step back, distancing myself further. The coldness I’d wrapped around myself over the past weeks had become second nature, but now, standing here in front of her, it felt like a barrier.
“I don’t have time for this, Hazel.” I muttered, trying to keep my voice flat.
Her face fell, and it felt like a punch to the gut. Her eyes, kind towards me, now sparked with hurt, confusion, and perhaps a hint of anger.
“Stop doing that,” she said, her voice trembling, but there was a fire in it too. “I gave up my friendship with Nevaeh for you. I’ve risked everything for this, for us. And you—” She cut herself off, shaking her head in disbelief. “You kissed me and then tossed me to the side.”
Her words hit harder than I wanted to admit. Nevaeh. She gave up her friendship for me? I didn’t know. The guilt piled on top of the already growing weight in my chest. But I couldn’t let that sway me. Not now. I was already too involved. I hardened my voice, forcing the words out through the tightness in my throat.
“You think that’s my fault? You think I asked you to do that?”
Her eyes flashed with frustration, but I saw something else in them too—something softer, a vulnerability that I didn’t expect.
“No,” she said, her voice quieter now, but full of pain. “But it’s your fault I’m here, isn’t it? You continuously pursued me, and now, what? Now that you proved to your ego you could get me, now you’re bored?”
Her honesty was painful, cutting deeper than imagined. But I couldn’t let her see it. I couldn’t let her know how much her words were tearing me apart. So, I shut down.
“You don’t get it,” I said, my voice icy, like I was trying to freeze everything around me. “You deserve someone who has his life together, Hazel. Someone who isn’t messing up. I’m a distraction. And I’m doing this for you. It’s better this way.”
Those ultimate words felt suffocating. It wasn’t the truth, but it was the lie I had to tell myself. I convinced myself I was doing the right thing. She flinched, hurt, but she didn’t back down. Her face twisted with emotion.
“You don’t get to decide what’s better for me,” she said, her voice shaking, but still full of fire. “I’m not some delicate thing you have to protect, Campbell. I can handle you. But I can’t handle you pushing me away.”
Her words hit me like a physical blow, and for a split second, I thought I might break. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t give in. I couldn’t let myself be the reason she fell apart. So, I turned away from her, the coldness inside me thickening, suffocating.
“I’m not your boyfriend, Hazel.” I muttered, my voice barely a whisper.
“Then stop acting like it, Campbell. Stop making me think you’re in love with me.”
My head dropped.
“I think you should go, Hazel.”
A powerful urge compelled me to keep her, to rectify the situation, yet I couldn’t. I hid my flaws, my irreparable damage, from her. I didn’t turn to watch her leave. I couldn’t, so I just stood there, my chest tight, my throat burning, the sound of her footsteps echoing on the ice like a last goodbye. It was like she was disappearing, and I was letting it happen. I should’ve gone after her. I should’ve apologized. I should’ve told her everything. But I didn’t. Instead, I convinced myself that I was doing the right thing. That this was for her. That she was better off without me. But as her footsteps faded into the distance, I felt my heart crack more.