5. Shay
SHAY
The guy talking to himself on the bench is the first player here, but I beat him, having been at the rink for almost an hour. Thirty minutes of which was convincing myself to come inside. I might have faced that fear, but I’m damn near in the farthest seat from the ice below.
I still have a long way to go before I’ll be able to stand beside it for hours, if I ever even get to that point.
My Apple Watch has repeatedly told me my heart rate is too high, but I’m literally sitting still, so there’s not much more I can do about the anxiety riddling my body.
It’s about to get even worse because I told Andy I would meet him in the tunnel in five minutes, and thanks to the badge around my neck that he gave me, I can go anywhere in the arena.
A burst of air wafts up at me from the ice, the all-too-familiar cold breeze locking my body into place, my eyes slamming shut.
It’s not supposed to be this hard.
I grew up on the ice, spent my entire life in a rink. If that’s all I know, then why does being here feel so impossible?
Maybe if I had just gone back to the rink right after my accident happened, my mind wouldn’t have built this fear up into the monster it is today.
Pushing up from my seat with shaky arms, I take a small step toward the stairs and another, making my way slowly down to the main hallway and heading downstairs to meet with Andy.
One step at a time, Shay.
My hand grips the railing like my life depends on it as I finally find the bottom, turning away from the arena and stepping into the hallway.
Phew. I exhale a big breath, feeling better already now that I’m not facing the ice. Although it’s going to be damn hard, being a goalie coach when I can’t even get near said goalies.
Quietly, I find the elevator to the rink level, scanning my card that’ll allow me access to that floor. I emerge into an identical hallway like the upper floors. Well, minus from the food and beverage carts. This is for staff only.
If it wasn’t for the raging anxiety, I would feel a lot of pride in this moment, but right now, it’s overshadowed by the fear thumping in my ears.
“Shay,” Andy calls out, pulling my gaze up from the ground as I walk. “There you are.”
I swallow hard, looking up to find him and a very pregnant woman smiling at me. “Here I am.”
“You look great,” he compliments me, but it does little to help.
“Thank you. You too,” I tell him, wondering if the universe helped us practically match in burgundy suits or if it was pure coincidence.
“This is Hunter. She’s the other goalie coach.” Andy introduces us, and I smile, offering to shake her hand as I approach and stop a couple feet from them.
“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Shay.” I cringe. “Which you probably know since he just said it …”
Hunter chuckles lightly, breaking my building tension. “Don’t be nervous. This will be great. I know you’re going to be a perfect addition to our team.”
Well, that makes one of us.
“Thank you. I’m going to try.”
Andy gestures toward the tunnel leading out to the ice, and I swallow hard, my heart rising in my throat. “She’ll be shadowing us for a little while, making sure it’s what she’s looking for before committing fully.”
“Totally understandable,” Hunter agrees, spinning on her heel and leading the way.
My hands twitch, desperate to claw at my throat, as my skin grows tighter and tighter, slowly suffocating me as we near the cool air. Goose bumps break out across my shoulders as we step into the light, mere feet from the bench.
It’s fine. I’ve got this. I’m doing just fine.
EVERYTHING’S FINE.
Bile rolls up into the back of my mouth as we stride into the bench. Andy says something I can’t hear or rather process at the moment. I wish he had let me do this without Hunter. I’m nervous enough as it is without a stranger watching me battle my demons.
My adrenaline spikes, and all of a sudden, someone skates up to us, seemingly appearing midair. The sound of his skates digging into the ice makes me jump out of my skin, moving a solid foot back from the group.
Oh God, this was a terrible, horrible idea. Worst idea I’ve ever had, in fact. I need a break or to run away and never look back. I can’t do this. I’m a failure and never going to be able to get back on the ice.
Another guy skates up next to the first, his stop sounding much more metallic as he glides right into his friend. The clink of the blades rings in my ears, and my mind immediately spirals.
I close my eyes, stepping back until I find a wall to touch to ground me. But I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I can’t …
My breaths are short and shallow, rapidly increasing.
“Shay?” Andy whispers my name.
My eyes fly open, and embarrassment floods my system as I try to get my breathing under control but fail. “I’m fine. I just need a moment.”
Offering a forced smile, I turn on my heel and stride away, desperate for quiet, for darkness, anything to make me forget where I really am.
I storm farther down the tunnel, passing the locker room entrance.
Approaching the next door, unlabeled, I try the handle and find it unlocked, twisting it and opening it with ease.
I slip inside, shutting it behind me and keeping the light off, the sounds of my heavy breathing filling the room. I don’t have to turn the light on to know what this place is. I can smell the equipment from here. Somehow, the familiar smell of hockey gear only tightens my chest more.
“Fuck!” I shout, squeezing my eyes shut as tightly as possible. “I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe.”
Tears roll down my cheeks, trailing down my neck. I sniffle, the thick, wet sound tearing me in two. I shouldn’t have come here. This was so stupid. Andy was wrong to believe that I could do this, that I was anywhere near ready.
My breaths are faster than ever, racing with my heart, the gasping sounds like glass to my ears. Crashing to the ground, I wrap my arms around my knees and rock back and forth, wishing I had never stepped foot in this arena.
Ugh, I just want it to stop. I just want to go back to how it was before. Why did this happen to me?
My eyes burn intensely, my throat raw as I cry out.
This wasn’t supposed to be my fate. This wasn’t how I was supposed to live. But I don’t even get a goddamn say in the matter.
“Fuck!”
I don’t want to be scared of the ice. I don’t want to be scared to lace up my skates.
I fucking miss it more than anything. It’s like my best friend suddenly became untouchable, and I’m so terrified to reunite with the ice.
But I miss it dearly. An ache shudders in my soul, yearning to feel the cool air whip around me as I skate.
But I don’t know if that will ever happen again, and I’m just so goddamn mad!
Reaching a new low, I break out one of the only things capable of pulling me from a panic attack, aggressively singing “Hollaback Girl” by Gwen Stefani. I don’t know why or when this song became my goddamn saving grace, but here we are.
I start on the first verse, the lyrics flowing from my tongue with quick gasps and shaky breaths. My broken and breathy version of “Hollaback Girl” continues to fill the room, and I force myself to keep going as I get through the first chorus.
“Just breathe, just breathe. It’s okay.” My voice sounds otherworldly, deep and ragged.
But I can’t breathe. I don’t know if I will ever again, and honestly, I’m starting to wonder if I even want to anymore. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to survive my accident. Maybe I was supposed to die on the ice that day.
I’m rocking side to side, a warmth spreading through my back as a big hand caresses my arm, and my eyes fly open, locking on to my now-illuminated heels.
Oh God. The voice sounded so odd because it wasn’t mine at all.
Embarrassment eats me alive from the inside out because someone found me like this, in absolute shambles.
But he continues to rock me side to side, and I hate to admit the feeling of being held like this, him beside me and pulling me close, is helping.
“I’m fine.” I heave a sigh. “I just need a second. You can leave,” I tell whoever it is, most likely Andy. But this guy’s cologne is different from Andy’s, smelling like ocean waves and fresh linen. “I’m fine. Thanks.”
I don’t want to meet his eye or see who it is because somehow that will make this horrible fucking encounter all the worse. I just need him to leave so I can suffer through this in peace.
“Ehh, I’ve got nowhere to be,” he mutters and pulls his arm away, shifting fully to my side with his hands on top of his knees, legs crossed at the ankles.
Suddenly, it’s very clear that this isn’t Andy.
As if the deeper masculine voice wasn’t enough evidence.
“Besides, I think you might need a friend.”
I scoff humorlessly. “I don’t need a friend. The role has already been filled.”
“Oof.” He winces playfully. “Well, I’ll be a temporary friend then.”
He pauses, his hands flexing over and over, as I’m sure he’s thinking of what to say. I’m at an equal loss for words. But maybe he’s not.
“What’s happening?”
I shrug, rolling my eyes. Tears fall over my lashes, finding the pool that’s been building in my shirt and the top of my pants. “It’s a long story.”
Gently, he bumps his shoulder into mine. “Joke’s on you. I love a long story.”
The sobs bubble up in my throat again, and I can’t stop them when they burst free, tearing through the room. I’m not going to be able to tell him this story because there’s no way I’m forming a single word in this condition. I’m practically wailing to a stranger.
I cry out, agony slicing through me, and then he does something I don’t expect.
His arms wrap around me again, effortlessly pulling me into his lap.
He tucks my head into the crook of his neck, holding the nape of my neck with his hand as he rocks me back and forth.
Most surprisingly, I don’t stop it or fight him.
I think I needed to be cradled like this more than I’d like to admit.