23. Brody
23 /
brody
The reading nook off my bedroom was the smallest, darkest room in the house. There were no windows, and the cramped space was barely big enough for a couch, table, and small TV. I’d gone there when I got home from the airport, collapsing onto the worn cushions like a marionette with its strings cut. The faint glow from the muted TV flickered against the walls, casting shadows that felt sharper than the knife in my heart.
I’d heard Gabe pounding on the door while he called my name. Every word was a stone, crushing my spirit all over again. Part of me wanted to run down and face him. I needed to yell at him and demand to know why he’d done this to me. I deserved an explanation about why he’d pretended to care and made me believe we had something real, when it had been nothing but a goddamn joke all along. Instead of moving, though, I remained frozen on the couch, arms wrapped around my stomach like I could hold myself together.
When the banging stopped and silence returned, I crept to the bedroom window and watched him leave. He trudged home, nothing like the Gabe I’d woken up beside that morning. How fucking ironic. Gabe had been larger than life to me since sixth grade, when I first saw him play. He was strong, radiant, and untouchable, and the added years had made him even more so. But tonight, he’d looked beaten and defeated, like an old man who’d lost everything.
And whose fault was that? Mine, for daring to believe in him? For letting myself fall so completely that when I hit the ground, I shattered into tiny pieces too jagged to ever fit together again?
I limped across my room to the bed, my legs shaky under the weight of grief. It was a mistake. The pillow smelled like Gabe, the perfect mix of cologne and musk that used to make my heart flip. Sadly, it was now a reminder of how incredibly na?ve I’d been to think someone like him could love a walking disaster like me.
I thought I’d cried all I could before he came over, but the tears that came with him so close were heavier and hotter, scalding my cheeks. I cried for the love I’d never really had and every lie I’d let myself believe. After what I went through with Wesley, how had I let Gabe play me so effortlessly? I was so anxious when we met on the trail in the woods, determined not to let anyone hurt me the way Wes had. But Gabe won me over, and for what—to leave my life an emptier wreck than it had already been?
When the sobs finally relented, I stared at the ceiling. I didn’t see how I could face him again because every glance would be another blow. Maybe it was time to do what I should have done in Boston: leave hockey and move far away, somewhere no one could find me.
Iceland, maybe. A tiny house on the northern coast where the wind would howl loud enough to drown out the wailings of my ruined heart.
I had to work to open my eyes. It was dark except for the faint glow of the nightlights I’d installed throughout the house. The darkness suited me, a perfect mirror of my mood. I rolled onto my side and stared at the wall as my thoughts circled endlessly.
Gabe, the man I loved, or thought I had. No, I was sure I loved him, which made things worse. He’d said he loved me too; I could still feel how my heart would soar at the words, but it wasn’t real. He’d only asked me out because of a stupid, childish bet, and I cringed as I remembered how I’d caught him and Holky laughing about their little joke. Like I was the joke. I squeezed my eyes shut to drive the memories away, but it didn’t work.
My stomach wrenched, and I cried out in pain. I’d made the mistake of remembering Gabe’s mischievous grin and how his big, dark eyes sparkled when he teased me. He was the only person who’d ever been able to make me laugh even when I didn’t want to. And then he’d kiss me, relentless and hungry, like I was all he wanted in the world.
Was any of it genuine? My chest constricted as a new wave of self-loathing swept over me. Some people were meant to be alone, and I was one of them; the sooner I accepted it, the better. I’d always been introverted, wary of getting too close to people, even my teammates. We could be friends and have a few beers after games. Chirps and laughter built camaraderie and helped us win. I was good at that, but opening up and actually letting someone in? That had rarely happened. Emma was the only close friend I had.
But not needing a crowd of friends wasn’t the same as not wanting love. I’d dated plenty of women and fooled around with more than a few guys, and I always enjoyed having someone to be with. I’d already felt like Gabe and I were part of each other, so I was going to miss that.
Shit. I didn’t want to be alone for the rest of my life. Damn Gabe for coming along and making me believe I didn’t have to be.
My heart ached when my thoughts circled back to how he’d looked walking to his house earlier, shoulders slumped and head down. A swell of hope rose within me for the first time since the airport. What if he really cared for me?
No. That was wishful thinking. He’d used me, plain and simple, so why was doubt gnawing at the edges of my mind? I couldn’t forget the memory of him whispering sweet words in the dark or stop thinking about how he cared for me when I was sick. God, that was only this morning. He’d looked so worried while he held my head in his lap and stroked my hair. Surely it wasn’t manipulation.
I flipped onto my back and banged my fists on the mattress. What fucking difference did it make whether he meant any of it or not? I couldn’t overlook how this started—how he’d asked me out to win a bet and led me down the garden path into loving him.
The confusion was suffocating, so I got off the bed and stumbled toward the bathroom, then downstairs to pace around the darkened house. Answers still refused to come. My thoughts were a tangle of anger, sadness, and desperate hope. I had to get myself together because I couldn’t ignore him forever. The team was leaving on another damn road trip in the morning.
I sat in the dining room and looked out the window. Gabe’s house loomed in the distance, dark except for a faint light in the kitchen. My heart lurched as I imagined him inside, pacing like I was, every bit as lost and unsure. Did he regret making the bet, or was he sorry he’d gone out with me a second time?
My frustrated yell brought Otto running to see what was wrong. Tired of feeling like I had no choices, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and stared at the screen. When I switched it on, notifications piled up, some from teammates but most of them from Gabe.
I needed to text Em and tell her what was going on. Her advice wouldn’t be objective, but it would be a hell of a lot closer than my own thoughts.
brODY: Thanks for staying here and taking care of Otto. You’ll be back tomorrow afternoon?
EMMA: Of course, but may I bring him to my place this time?
brODY: NP. He’ll probably feel like he’s on vacation.
EMMA: I’ll get the spa ready.
I took a deep breath. Once I started talking, there’d be no backing out.
brODY: Have a minute? I could use some advice.
I filled her in on what had happened with Gabe and the bet, and she let me type without interruption. She was good at letting me get something off my chest before throwing in her two cents.
EMMA: This makes me so sad. I can’t imagine how you must feel.
brODY: Like a fool.
EMMA: Like a man who’s very hurt. You’ve never been a fool. You’re someone who follows your heart.
brODY: Even when it gets destroyed every time.
Typing bubbles came and went, and I wondered what kind of spin she’d try to put on that. She surprised me, though. Instead of Pollyanna platitudes, she offered understanding.
EMMA: I know it feels that way, but how else will you ever find the right person? Putting yourself out there takes bravery, and love is always a risk. You’ve told me several times how much you love Gabe. Was that true? Because if it was, you still love him. We don’t stop just because someone hurts us.
I almost snapped at her, but she was trying to help. Gabe was the one who had hurt me, and I shouldn’t lash out at her.
brODY: Of course it was true. And you’re right, I’m still in love with him.
EMMA: What are you going to do about it then?
brODY: I was hoping you’d tell me.
As pathetic as it was, I’d really hoped she’d have an easy answer.
EMMA: You want your nice best friend or your blunt but well-meaning supporter?
Leave it to her to put me in a position I couldn’t weasel my way out of.
brODY: I want the first but need the second.
EMMA: Sounds about right. I don’t see how you can make any decisions without knowing what was in his head when he made the bet. Or how you’ll find any peace if you put that iron wall of yours back up and ignore him.
Fuck. That was exactly what I didn’t want to hear. I scowled at the phone when I remembered what you want to hear isn’t always what’s best for you.
brODY: I hate to admit it, but you’re right. I need time, though.
EMMA: It may take time to decide what you want to do with the relationship, and that’s fair. But the longer you shut him out, the more complicated this will become.
brODY: I can’t talk to him yet.
EMMA: Why?
Goddammit! Fuck her words I couldn’t argue with. Fuck this stupid situation. And fuck, fuck, fuck Gabe for doing this to me. I stared at the screen, hoping she’d send a follow-up, but she let the word hang there, mocking me. Why?
Why indeed?
brODY: Are you saying I should talk to him now?
EMMA: Depends. Do you want to make a good decision, or would you rather let things spiral? If you wait long enough, this will get so bad you’ll feel like throwing him out of your life is justified.
Shit.
brODY: Please help me, Em.
EMMA: I am. You know what you should do. I think it’s actually what you want to do.
I stared out the window for inspiration, but all I saw was Gabe’s house sitting there like a huge question mark. What should I do? Am I willing to give up without hearing him out?
brODY: I think I should talk to him. I woke up this morning thinking he was the person I’ve waited for my entire life. I shouldn’t let go of that without hearing his side of the story.
EMMA: Welcome back to the world, my friend. You’re smart, and I figured you’d come around.
Why does she think she knows everything?
brODY: All right. I’ll do it tonight.
EMMA: Will you let me know what happens?
brODY: Yes, mom. I promise.
We said goodbye, and I spent a moment looking back and forth between the phone in my hand and Gabe’s house in the distance. Ignoring him on the plane tomorrow would make things worse, and I didn’t want to have this conversation with thirty nosy hockey players listening.
To hell with it. My fingers moved before my brain could catch up.
brODY: Do you want to talk?