14. Matt #2
“This isn’t important. Not in the long run. Not if you guys aren’t here to celebrate it. It doesn’t matter.” I blow an emotional raspberry, shaking my head at the thought. “It’s just hockey, right? It doesn’t matter.”
I know what I’m saying makes no sense, but that’s how I feel about pretty much everything in my life right now. I’m doing great for a moment, a morning, a practice, and then I’m dragged right back down to hell.
Hockey is the only consistency in my life to help me escape from the fear of my father withering away.
It’s the only part of my routine that keeps me sane.
But it also makes me hate myself in a way I never expected.
Every time I’m on the ice, my mind is battling between focusing on my craft or making me feel guilty for being out there at all. It’s a flawed fucking system.
“Hey, Matt.” My mom’s voice is stern.
“What? Sorry,” I groan, even more annoyed with myself.
“Are your listening ears on now?” she scolds me like I’m five years old, and I can’t help but smile.
“They’re on. I promise.”
She chuckles sweetly. “Good. Because I need you to hear this. Not just with your ears, but your heart too.”
I swallow hard, not wanting to agree, but in the end, I do. “I’m ready.”
Closing my eyes, I try to prepare myself for one of my mom’s famous speeches, ones she’s given me countless times over the years. But her voice is warm, wrapping me up in a hug, and I don’t think I can ever fully prepare for the way her words root into me.
“You are the reason your father and I are so comfortable. You’re the reason he gets the highest level of care possible.
You are the reason he fights every single day to stay here with us.
Your job is not dumb or pointless. It’s essential to every one of us.
Don’t belittle your worth, Matty. You're the reason we do everything. We love you. You are exactly where you need to be, sweetie. Easy as that. Don’t question it, okay? ”
I’m a sobbing mess by the time she finishes, feeling like a kid in her arms as I come undone. But at the core, that’s all any of us are. We’re just kids. Someone’s child. When parents pass or fade away, we cling to the memories we hold dear.
“I love you,” I murmur, my voice thick with emotion. “I love you guys so much.”
“Oh, honey, we love you too.” Her voice breaks, and it shatters me in a whole new way. “Oh, I think he’s waking up from his nap. I’m going to get the doctor, okay? I’ll check in a little later.”
“Okay.” I nod, running my hand down my face, wiping away the tears. “That sounds good. I love you.”
“I love you too, sweetie,” she coos, and the call ends, three beeps sounding in my ear.
“Fuck,” I curse, dropping my phone to my lap as I lean my head back against the wall, letting my eyes wander the ceiling aimlessly.
Guilt swirls with self-loathing inside me, but I try to remember my mom’s words as best I can. She’s not wrong.
It’s because of my job that they got to retire ten years early and travel together. It’s because of my job that they have a weekly cleaner, chef, and caregiver. But somehow, that still feels like the easy way to care, and it still doesn’t seem like enough.
I let myself come down from whatever I’m feeling, tracing a circle on the rubber floor until I swear I burn a mark in its place. But eventually, I peel myself up off of the ground, still wearing my pads and gear, aside from my mask and gloves.
I’ve never wanted to be home, buried beneath the sheets and sleeping, as badly as I do right now. But first, I need to wash this stench from my body and soul.
The locker room is empty, and even the lights are off when I walk in, which means everyone is long gone. Jeez, how long was I dissociating in the other room? I thought it was maybe a half hour, tops, but it must’ve been longer because the cleaning crew has already come through.
I flick the lights on and shed my gear, stowing it in my stall. My hip aches as I lean back, stretching my sore body out. God, I swear practices and games have been running me ragged more than normal lately. It’s certainly not for lack of fitness. I’m in the best shape of my damn life.
“Shit,” I mutter to myself, mustering up enough energy to walk to the showers.
Part of me wanted to wait to shower until I got home, but I know the second I got into my car, I would smell myself and regret that decision. A quick rinse and hair wash, and I can head home and crawl into my bed.
My bare feet pad on the floor, welcoming the cool tiles as the flooring changes over. I round the corner, and the faint sound of trickling water fills my ears. Someone must’ve left one of the showers running. Goddamn wasteful idiots. I’m surprised maintenance didn’t turn it off when they came in.
Oh well. Not my circus, not my monkeys. I’ll kill it when I get in there though because I’m not a complete ass.
My gaze is on the tiles, and I mentally count them without thought as I wander down the shower entrance hallway. A shelf of perfectly folded towels stands against it, with wastebaskets and laundry hampers at its side.
A shiver runs down my spine, goose bumps erupting along my naked body as a cool chill takes over. Thankfully, I’ll be beneath scorching hot water soon enough.
I blow out a breath, my lips vibrating as I turn the corner into the shower room, where heads line the wall, each with their own control beneath it.
“What the hell are you doing in here?” The words fall from my lips in a gasp, my eyes struggling to make sense of the image before me.
Curvy hips, a perfectly rounded ass, creamy white thighs, and legs that seem to go on for days. My eyes trail back up in the blink of an eye as the soaked wet red hair whips around, Shay turning to face me … completely naked and dripping wet.
A shriek tears through the room as her eyes bulge out of her head like a cartoon. “What are you doing in here?! Oh my God!”
“Oh my God …” My version is far deeper. “And this is my locker room. What do you mean?”
“My-my water went out at my apartment. Everyone was already gone, so I figured I’d have it to myself …” She trails off, her gaze dropping to my chest.
I try to fight it—I do—but the image is already perfectly burned into my mind. Her full, hanging breasts. Nipples taut and staring me down. My mouth waters at the delicious image.
Fucking hell.
My dick twitches to life, and her eyes fly down to it, somehow widening more as her head cocks to the side. Her cheeks and body flush instantly, like a chameleon changing its color. “Matt—”
Smirking, I glance down for a split second before meeting her gaze. “Like what you see?”
Her mouth is open, and she’s frozen, standing and staring at me, water trailing down her body in the same way I desperately wish to explore. Jesus Christ. My knees tremble at the image before me.
“What the hell are you doing?!” she screeches and gasps. Her gaze clears, like she’s snapping back to reality. Quickly, she covers herself, an arm across her chest and hand flying down. “Get out!”
Shaking my head, I knock sense back into my mind and body, smacking myself on the forehead. “Oh, sorry! Shit!” Turning on my heel, I race away, miscalculating how far I am from the wall, and instead of striding into the walkway, I run headfirst into the tile-covered concrete.
No, that’s fine. I wanted to see how much more I could embarrass myself today. Thanks, universe.
A giggle bursts free from her as I pinch the bridge of my nose, pain erupting in my face. My other hand flails for the tiles, desperate to balance myself, all while Shay continues to laugh behind me. At least she’s getting some enjoyment out of this.
“You ran straight into the wall.” She cackles, and even through the pain, I can’t help but smirk at the pure joy in her voice. “You’re so stupid.”
“Hey!” I scold her, looking back over my shoulder with a playful stare, blinking rapidly to clear my pained vision. “Be nice to the wounded.”
Her smile steals the air from my lungs. For a split second, I forget where we are entirely, and instead, I can only imagine our future. She’s laughing while our kids play in the backyard. Me somehow finding ways to pretend to get hurt, only to elicit those cherished sounds all over again.
How can I not imagine a life with her when the sight of her joy sends me headfirst into a wall? Maybe I’m just tired of hiding behind the reasons why we shouldn’t. Or maybe it’s my new concussion. Regardless, the conversation isn’t happening while we’re butt-ass naked in the Nighthawks’ showers.
Turning back, I gently guide myself around the wall and back out of the walkway, grabbing a towel from the rack as I go. I might not have gotten in the water, but I’m a thousand degrees and sweating profusely after that interaction.
My heart is thumping in my chest, my pulse racing so hard that I can feel it in my neck without so much as touching it. Can you imagine how I’m going to react if she ever actually touches me? I don’t think I’ll survive.
Dropping down onto the bench, I close my eyes and catch my breath for a second, desperate to ground myself in any way. I flatten my hands on the surface beside my legs, taking a few calm inhales and exhales until I feel a sliver of normalcy.
Then, without skipping a beat, I hastily get dressed and shove my wallet, keys, and phone into my pocket, rushing out of the locker room to give her as much privacy as she needs.
We obviously still need to talk about all of this, but we can do it out here, in a neutral territory, where the vision of her naked is less likely to control my every thought. I pace in the hallway, barely holding it together as I wait for her to exit.
Whatever I told myself about that image not consuming me, it was a lie—the biggest lie I’ve ever told—because I can’t stop replaying it in my mind, over and over again. It’s consuming my soul.
The door pushes open, squeaking and pulling my full attention up from my feet as I slam to a halt.
“Hi.”
Great. I sound like a nervous schoolboy who’s talking to the first girl he’s ever met.