Chapter 19
Jamie
I barely slept again.
Ceiling. Four AM. Still dark. Nothing resolved.
I kissed him back and then I punched him.
I’ve never lost my mind so completely that I couldn’t find my way back to it. What was I thinking? I had just gotten yelled at for putting my hands on Rhys, and I proceeded to do it again. Immediately after. This is not me.
There’s something specific about Rhys that dismantles me and I need to figure out what it is and I need to stop letting it. Stop letting him get in my head before I ruin everything for myself.
I sit up. Rub my temples and check my phone.
The team group chat — Ice Queens, a name bestowed upon us in the first week of the fall semester, by one very specific transfer student who thought it was hilarious and it apparently stuck — is lit up with messages about Bryce taking over as captain temporarily.
Guys congratulating him, a few jokes, the usual noise.
I stare at it, then type out something genuine and hit send because Bryce didn't do anything wrong and he deserves that.
Coach was right about one thing — Kowalski is the only guy on this team I’d call a friend.
He’s serious, dependable, keeps his head down and does the work.
We understand each other. But one person isn’t a team and I’ve been treating my team like coworkers, like they're background characters in something that's only about me and my being captain and my shot and my future.
That’s on me and that changes now.
I get dressed quickly — black sweats, white tee, backpack over one shoulder because I have class right after — and head to the athletic building in the early grey morning.
I hate that I’ve been adding stress to Fitch’s life.
He’s been good to me — decent, the kind of steady presence I didn’t have growing up — and lately every time I walk into his office his face does something tired and resigned that I put there. That sits badly with me.
I stand behind my usual seat across from his desk and wait.
Fitch leans back in his chair and looks at me for a long moment.
He takes his cap off. Puts it back on. A man composing himself.
“Jamie.” He sighs from somewhere deep. “I’m balding.
Did you know that? I’m balding and my doctor says my blood pressure is elevated and I have a seven year old at home who just discovered the word why.
” He points at me. “You. You used to make my life easier. What happened?”
“Coach—”
"That was a rhetorical question. Sit."
I sit and he looks at me for a long moment.
"I have nothing new to say to you," he continues.
"You know what you did. You know what happens next time. You know what happens if this doesn’t get resolved.
" He folds his hands. "What I need from you today is simple.
You're going to get to know this team. Really know them.
And you're going to figure out whatever is happening between you and Callahan and you're going to fix it.
Not for me. Not for the captaincy." He holds my gaze.
"For yourself. Because the person who walked into that coffee shop yesterday is not someone I recognize and I don't think you do either. "
Silence.
"Yes, Coach."
"Good." He opens a drawer. More antacids. "Get out."
I get up.
"Jamie."
I stop.
"Be better than him, this isn’t you," he says.
I don't ask which him he means. We both know. I nod once and walk out before he can see what that does to my face.