10. Bryce
Bryce
The game ends, and I can’t get off the ice fast enough. I should be celebrating with my team. We won the first game. But I can’t. Not when I know I just blew everything with Hadley.
Her face when she realized it was me on the ice… I’ll never forget it. She looked confused. Hurt. Like she didn’t know who I was anymore.
I wish her feelings were just because she was worried about me, but it was more. She was disappointed.
I may not have lied to her, but I wasn’t honest either.
I just hope she’ll give me a chance to explain.
The locker room is loud. Everyone is crowded around Jake, who sealed the win.
“Congratulations on the star,” I tell him, doing my best to smile.
“Thanks, man,” Jake says, beaming. He’s a good guy. He deserves the recognition.
Kingston slaps him on the back. “Great work tonight.” He keeps walking, heading toward the showers.
Everyone is talking, trading jokes, laughing… I nod, smile, say the right things, but I don’t hear half of what anyone says.
“Who’s coming out to celebrate?” Neal Sanderson shouts, plopping onto the seat in his stall. “Bryce? You coming?”
I shake my head. “Not tonight. I’ve got something to do.”
“Probably needs time to recover from that hit,” Stone chirps.
“You wish,” I reply, throwing a sweaty towel in his direction.
“Hey, now,” Stone says, laughing. “I can’t help that you can’t take a hit.”
Some guys throw out wild guesses about what I can and can’t do, but I ignore them.
I go through the motions of cooling down, cleaning up, and getting out of there before heading out to the parking lot to catch a ride back to the hotel.
I don’t wait for the bus. Sitting with the guys, pretending everything’s fine…
I just can’t, so I order myself an Uber.
I need the quiet to think about how to make things right with Hadley.
Twenty minutes later, I’m in my room staring at my phone. I open the text thread with Hadley and swallow down the knot in my throat.
Bryce: So, I’m a hockey player.
Ugh, too late for that now. I delete that message and try again.
Bryce: I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I was going to tell you today, but that’s no excuse. I just… I liked knowing that you saw me. Just me. Not the pro hockey player. Can I take you to dinner tomorrow so we can talk?
I hit send and hold my breath. The check mark shows it’s been read.
I wait.
Nothing.
Yeah, I deserve that.
I put the phone on the nightstand and grab the room service menu. I place an order for a burger, fries, and a side salad before checking my phone to see if she’s replied yet.
She hasn’t.
I stare at the screen like it’ll change if I wait long enough.
It doesn’t.
Of course it doesn’t.
I flip through channels, looking for something to distract me from how quiet my phone is. I’ve gotten used to texting with Hadley in the evenings. Hearing all about her day. Learning more about what makes her tick…
The silence. It’s loud.
I live alone in Denver. I have for a while now. You’d think I’d enjoy the quiet. Especially after a loud game.
I don’t.
I miss her.
I didn’t even realize how much until now.
And that’s the worst part. Of course, I realize how much I like her when it might be too late.
There’s a knock at the door. My food. That was fast.
Or maybe I lost track of time staring at my phone willing her to respond.
“Here you are, sir.”
I take my food and hand the young delivery guy a tip. “Thanks.” I shut the door and head over to the bed. If I am eating alone, I may as well be comfortable.
The food tastes like paste. I chew anyway, barely noticing what I’m eating.
I’m sure it’s good.
It’s a five-star hotel, after all. Doesn’t matter. It could be McDonald’s for all I care.
I bet Hadley would like it. It’s thick and juicy, cooked perfectly. I just can’t seem to make myself enjoy it.
I finish eating and clean up my mess. The TV is on in the background, but I’m not following the show. It’s just noise at this point.
I tell myself I won’t check again.
I’m going to be patient. Get ready for bed, go to sleep. Leave it alone until the morning.
I go through the motions—wash my face, brush my teeth, change into pajamas—all the while reminding myself to give her time. To be patient. To leave my phone on the nightstand and check it in the morning. Not tonight.
I’m almost successful.
Almost.
I can’t resist checking one last time before rolling over.
She read it. That’s something.
She just hasn’t responded.
And somehow, that feels worse than if she never saw it at all.
I could’ve told her.
At the bookstore.
During our coffee date.
At Tavern Hill…
I could have told her anytime. Instead, I let her find out like that.
I probably wouldn’t answer me, either.
The next morning, I wake up and the first thing I do is reach for my phone before my eyes are even open all the way.
I stop myself before picking it up. Am I ready to know if she’s done with me? With us?
This requires coffee.
I push out of bed, and pad to the small coffee pot on the counter. I pop the pod into the machine and press brew.
Ten minutes later, I’ve dressed, brushed my teeth, and am sitting with my coffee in one hand and my phone in the other.
I swipe the screen, looking for that little notification that says I have a message.
It’s not there.
My heart sinks. I set the phone and the coffee cup down on the table.
She’s not going to reply.
I scrub my hands over my face and drop my head into my hands, bracing my elbows on my knees. I blew it. Lost my shot. That stings.
My phone rings, and I jump, nearly knocking it across the room. I snag the phone and hit answer before even looking to see who it is.
“Hadley?” I ask, desperation clear in my voice.
“Who’s Hadley?” my sister asks.
I blink, as Lacey’s voice registers. “Oh, it’s you.”
She snorts. “Nice to talk to you, too, bro.”
“Sorry,” I mutter, dragging a hand through my hair. “I thought you were someone else.”
“I could tell,” she says. “So… who is Hadley?”
I let out a breath.
Guess I walked right into this one.
“I met someone.”
There’s a pause on the other end of the line.
“Lacey?” I say, when it’s dragged on to the point of being uncomfortable.
“Well, it’s about time,” she says finally.
I spend the next few minutes filling Lacey in on the events of the last week and a half.
“Oh, man,” Lacey says when I tell her about last night at the game. “That’s not ideal.”
I snort. “That’s an understatement,” I say. “I was going to tell her. I even planned to invite her to the game, but she said she had plans.”
Lacey chuckles. “Apparently her plans were to come watch you play.”
“This isn’t funny,” I say. “I didn’t make fun of you when you and Knox were working things out.”
“You’re right,” she says. “Sorry. You didn’t lie to her.”
“No,” I say. “I just didn’t tell her the whole truth.”
Lacey groans. “Yeah, that’s worse.”
“What do I do?” I ask, realizing I’m asking my baby sister for dating advice. But she’s happily married and has two kids now. A life like that is everything I’ve ever secretly wanted.
Everything I don’t have.
She sighs. “You’re going to need to give her time.”
“I don’t have time,” I mutter. “That’s kind of the problem. I’m only in DC for twelve more days.”
Lacey chuckles. “You sound like Matti right now.”
“Great. Love that for me. Nothing like being compared to a kindergartner.”
“Seriously, Bryce. If she cares about you anywhere near as much as you care about her, she’ll let you explain. She’ll understand.”
“What if she doesn’t?” the words come out quieter than I expect.
“Then she isn’t the one.”
The one.
Is Hadley ‘the one’ everyone talks about?
I rub the ache in my chest. She just might be.
“Thanks, sis. Now, why’d you call? Because I’m sure it wasn’t to hear me whine about how badly I’ve messed up my life.”
“How are you feeling today?” Colt asks, lacing his skates on the bench next to me.
“Sore, but I’m alright. I’ve been hit harder,” I chuckle.
“You seemed off after the game, everything okay?” He eyes me, watching my face like it will give him the answer.
“Yep. Fine.” I push the lie out. I’m not fine. Hadley hasn’t responded, and I’ve checked my phone so many times today I had to put it back on the charger before leaving for practice. I’m a mess, but I have to let it go. I have a job to do.
“On the ice,” Coach calls. “We have work to do.”
Some of the guys groan. “We won,” someone calls.
“Yep, and if you want to win again, we have work to do,” Coach calls back.
Coach puts us through some light drills and passing sequences. The first few plays go smoothly; everyone is on their A-game. Then it’s my turn, and I’m distracted. It shows.
“Your head in last night’s game or what?” Coach calls. “Get yourself together.”
I nod, “Yes, Coach.”
The next pass, the puck slides past, just out of reach. I chase it down, frustration making my movements choppy.
“Chambers,” Coach snaps.
Yeah, that was on me.
“Again,” he calls. This time, I don’t miss, but it’s not pretty either. By the time Coach lets us go, I’m sweaty, sore, and feeling even more defeated than when practice started.
“What is going on with you?” Stone asks. “You didn’t really get hurt last night, did you?”
Yeah, I did, but not the kind of hurt he’d understand. “Nah, just sore. I’ll be fine for tomorrow’s game.”
“You better be,” he says. “The team is counting on you.”
I stop by my bag and grab my phone. I’m sure she hasn’t responded. Isn’t going to. But, I can’t help but check anyway.
I swipe the screen, waking it up, and… there’s a message.
My thumb hovers over the notification. If I don’t read it, she hasn’t rejected me.
I have to know.
My heart hammers in my chest, and my hands are shaking so bad I nearly drop the phone, but I manage to open the text thread.
Hadley: I think we should talk. Let’s meet at Al’s Pizza at 6.
Air rushes back into my lungs. I read it again, just to make sure I’m not imagining it.
It’s there. She agreed to meet for dinner.
She didn’t shut me out.
Not yet, anyway.