Chapter 28 – Greyson
Tonight is the first game I’ll be at since I got injured. I won’t be dressing, but it’s better than watching from home. I still haven’t heard from Hannah; I’ve been going insane from the silence. There’s a lot going through my mind, but what plagues me most days is the way the color drained from her face right before my eyes. How I got to witness the physical reaction, my poorly handled response to my mom's question had on her, not to mention the fact that Kara showed up and tried to stir the pot, yet I was at home wallowing in self-pity.
The only thing keeping my tiny thread of sanity together is the video I got from Andrews a few days ago of her and Abby dancing and laughing as they fell on the floor. I know she’s okay; in fact, she looked like she was glowing. Makes me wonder if she’s happier without me around; that thought is my biggest internal battle right now.
The first order of business today, though, is for me to go see Dr. Williams. We had a virtual session two days ago in the midst of a spiral. It’s a frustrating process; it seems to be two steps forward and twenty steps back.
I’m sitting in the waiting room, legs bouncing in anticipation. This is always the worst part. The waiting, the looks on the faces of other people as they come out. It’s uncomfortable, but you know what they say. You have to get comfortable with being uncomfortable. Isn't that the truth?
The hallway door opens, and Dr. Williams pokes his head out; his salt and pepper hair swishes as he gives me a curt nod. “Come on in, Sugar.” I freeze, trying to process what he just said when both he and the receptionist snicker. I rub my hands do wn my jean-clad legs and give them a quick smack right before my knees, shaking my head. I stand and walk over to the joker of the hour.
“Call me that again, and I’ll be the one charging you by the hour.” I wink, earning me another laugh, boisterous and full of life. It puts a genuine smile on my face, one that feels like I’m hatching out of a metaphorical cocoon. There’s light and hope on the other side.
We get into his office and sit in our normal spots, him to the side of his desk, me right in front of it. “Okay, Greyson. How were things after we spoke last?” He’s looking not at me but through me.
I can’t hold back because he’ll call it out. And that’ll make me dig deeper and drag things out. But holy moly, I feel like a failure at this moment. I’m so used to seeing tangible growth and physical improvements. My skate times, how much weight I can push in the gym, what I’m eating, and how that makes my body feel.
But this? The defective brain that does well for stretches of time and then decides it’s going to collapse in on itself and cause my body to have a mass riot. I can’t see it; I can’t guess what’s going to set it off. Heck, some days I wake up, and I’m just sad.
Begging myself to get out of bed and not being physically able to. Desperately needing to shower while also wanting nothing more than to decay because it’s so dark and so heavy inside my chest. I can squat over three hundred pounds, but I can’t find the light switch in the dark sometimes.
I had to order a nightlight so that I could imagine some sort of light cutting through the heavy fog. I needed a lighthouse, no scratch that. I need my lighthouse. She chases away my darkness by simply being herself. But I pushed her away, too.
I clear my throat, tapping my fingers on the arm of the chair. “They weren’t great. It took me a day and a half to pull myself together after we got off the phone.”
Nodding, he writes on his yellow notepad; when he’s done, he lifts the pen to his mouth and chews on the cap at the end. “When you think about why you’re sad, does anything come to mind?”A head full of red hair, a challenging eyebrow, and eyes so beautiful I see them in my dreams.
“There’s a lot going on in there, but the thing that weighs heaviest is I hurt Hannah. But that isn’t when this started. That was a byproduct of me snapping because I felt like I was hog-tied and left to the wolves.” The man actually snorts.
“Didn’t picture you to be the bondage type, Greyson.” Say what now? This man is losing it. “Moving on swiftly. What starts a slump isn’t always what sustains it.” He rolls his chair to the side of the desk and pulls out a stress ball that looks like a brain. Tossing it at me, I catch it and raise a questioning brow.
“What I’m saying is, it’s time to put your boots to the ground. Do the things that make you uncomfortable. You’re sad you hurt a woman you care about; go fix it. You’re keeping yourself stuck by not taking action. Do something, anything other than whatever you’ve been doing this far. Clearly, that’s not working.”
Squeezing the life out of the brain, I nod as I let his words wash over me. He’s right; the fear of rejection is what’s kept me from anything more than texting her. I’ll talk to Abby later when she picks up Harley; maybe she can help me come up with a game plan or at least tell me when she’s coming home.
“Yeah, okay. You’re right. ”
“Listen,” He says, his tone firm but kind, “I know hockey is how you regulate yourself. Physical activity has always been an outlet for you. Go take a walk, and if that’s too easy, go walk in the sand. If that still doesn’t do it, go farther. The sun is good for your mental state anyway. Just move, Greyson. Keeping yourself locked in your house isn’t doing you any favors. Get yourself around people, whether it's one person or your entire team. I don’t care. But if you want to pull yourself out of this, you’re going to have to put in the work. I know that sounds harsh and unappealing, but you and I both know doing the hard stuff is the only way to get out of this.”
He isn’t telling me anything new, but it feels like I’m hearing it for the first time. I’ve been waiting for motivation to magically appear, for the heaviness in my chest to disappear on its own accord. But that’s not how it works, it never has.
“Fix things with your family first,” he continues, “then go after the girl. Your family will love you through everything; she isn’t obligated to do the same. Remember that before you do anything.”
A sinking feeling sits in my gut. I know she isn’t stuck with me the way my family is, but dang, I want her to choose to stay, to fight for me like I desperately want to fight for her. But I have to show her that for her to believe it, now don’t I? A flicker of determination ignites, small and steady.
I nod as he tells me our time is up for the day; I schedule another appointment for next Monday before walking out. I feel like I have a sense of direction. Like I gained clarity I didn’t realize I’d been missing.
Sometimes, I really am my own worst enemy; o ne thought will slip into another and another, and eventually, I’ve spiraled. Trying to untangle it is exhausting; it’s easier to just sleep half the time, thus starting the cycle all over and never really making progress. But today, I’m done with that.
This is my line in the sand; I need to pull myself together. Not just for Hannah but for my family, my team, and myself, too. Getting into my car, I head to Beautiful Pour to grab some coffee and some treats for Harley girl.
My keys jingle as I step out of the elevator. I stop short at the sight of the crowd of people leaning against the wall next to my door. “Mighty fine weather we’re having today, huh Wilder?” Reed drawls from where he’s leaning, arms crossed over his chest, ankles crossed with a backward ball cap on. One eyebrow drawn up high as I walk towards them.
My palms were suddenly sweaty; I wasn’t ready to talk to all of them yet. As I get closer, I see Abby in the middle of the protective wall they’ve created. “Hey, Abby.” I unlock the door, holding it open for them to come in.
“Wilder.” I searched her face for anything that would tell me how Hannah was feeling or how she was doing. But I find nothing, my heart plummeting to my feet. Remember what Dr. Williams said: I need to be able to put in the work. Guess I’ll have a practice run. I haven’t seen these guys since Washington. They deserve an apology, too. I haven’t been a very good t eammate.
The door shuts behind us, and Harley is on her back, soaking in the belly rubs she’s currently getting. Abby, however, is standing to the side, her eyes trained on me. “How is she?” I can’t stop myself from asking; I need to know.
“She’s better than I’ve seen her in a long time. Going back home was a good move. I think it healed a part of her that she didn’t know needed healing.”
Heart, meet blender. My eyes immediately find a spot on the floor, looking for something to focus on, but it’s too late and the world around me starts to blur. One white spot here, one there, then another. My breathing picks up, each breath shallow, yet I feel like I’m not getting enough oxygen.
A hand lands on my shoulder as Abby’s face comes into view. It’s blurry, but it’s there. She’s bent down in front of me; her other hand finds my cheek, and my vision clears. “She misses you, Wilder.” Her words offer me a lifeline, pulling me back to reality.
A broken sob catches in my throat, and I’m pulled into a hug by the roommate of the woman I’m in love with. Holy shit. I love her. I freaking love that woman. In seconds, I’m surrounded on every side; the silence sits heavy, but it isn’t uncomfortable. Just laced with anticipation of things that need to be said.
Clearing my throat, I straightened up, and we all broke apart. Their faces hold something I haven’t seen in a long time, faith in me. “I need to apologize to all of you. I let you down; I should have been there. At the carnival, at practices, at games. I’ve been a coward, hiding out here feeling sorry for myself. I haven’t been a good friend or a teammate. I’m so sorry.”
Five sets of eyes stare back at me, but it ’s Monroe's that breaks first. “Bring it in, brother.” He grabs my good shoulder and pulls me back in for a bro hug. Dang it, I hate how broken I feel at the moment. I hate how small I feel and how undeserving I am of their support after the way I’ve basically shunned all of them.
“How are you, really?” Andrews says as he sits on one of the barstools at the island. “None of the fluff, give it to us straight.” They all look at me in eager expectation; Wilson hangs back, leaning against the wall but still focused on me.
Sighing, I run a hand through my hair, stopping on my neck to give it a rough squeeze, anchoring me to the moment. “Physically, I’m alright; mentally, I’m...” I trail off, staring at the floor when I notice something out of place. Boots? Cowboy boots. My head shoots up and I’m met with Reed’s smug expression. “What in the world is on your feet?”
Their laughter pulls at a thread in my chest, loosening a bit of the tightness that’s been hanging on in there. His lips pursed as his head tilted to the side. He looks down at his feet, then back up at me with dramatically raised eyebrows. “They’re boots, obviously.”
“Obviously,” My eyes roll so hard into the back of my head that one actually twitches. “But why?”
He shrugs, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “Hannah took us line dancing; it was fun. I think I make a pretty good-looking cowboy if I say so myself.”
My jaw hit the floor; I knew they had gone out because I had video evidence of it. I didn’t know they danced too.“You guys danced?” They wear a collective smirk like a badge of honor.
“She said it gave the ‘rhythm-deprived p eople’ a chance to dance,” Wilson adds from his spot on the wall. He shrugs, “She’s a good teacher; we were basically pros by the end of the night.”
The flame of jealousy snakes up my chest. That’s twice now he’s gotten to do something with her that she should have been doing with me. Abby clearly catches on to my souring mood.
"Relax, Wilder. We both taught them, and yeah, we had a good time. But it was nice to see her let loose. She needed a place where she could simply be herself. I’ve known her for eight years, I’ve never seen her that relaxed and carefree; it's like she was a completely different person.”
That hurts. My chest burns, but Andrews pipes up. “There’s a country bar in town,” He leans against the kitchen island, “we looked it up on the drive back last night.”
My head tilts to the side as I try to piece together why that matters. “Okay?...”
He grins, “We can teach you what the girls taught us, maybe take her there on a date. It’s clear she likes it. Putting in the effort to learn might go a long way.” Abby smiles like Dr. Evil, eyebrows wiggling at the thought.
“I like it. I like it a lot.” She steeples her hands in front of her face, her pointer fingers tapping against each other.
Before she can say anything else, my front door swings open, revealing my brother, Abby growls, actually growls like a freaking bear, as her eyes meet his wide ones.
“If it isn’t the King of assholery.” She deadpans, and I freaking lose it. My head tips back as laughter erupts from my chest like water from Old Faithful.
His eyes narrow at her, flashing with a look that almost feels like desire. He grunts, turning towards me, he nods his greeting. “Should have called first, brother.” My smile is so big it hurts my cheeks. This is the lightest I’ve felt in weeks.
“Not today, Satan.” He grumbles before turning and walking right back out. The guys and I laugh, but Abby stares daggers at the door. Oh, what I’d do to be a fly on the wall if they ever end up alone in a room together. The thought alone brings a fresh wave of laughter, and my abs hurt by the time I run out of steam.
“You really don’t like him, do you?” I ask. Her only response is a shrug, her eyes still filled with fire, her jaw clenched tight, and her eyebrows drawn low. It’s at this moment that I understand why he called her a “terrifying pixie”; she may be little, but she is fierce.
“Alright, cowboys, teach me the moves.” Never in a million years did I ever think those words would leave my mouth.