19. Matt #2
My body follows her orders because I’m nothing. My body’s worthless, a piece of meat, just taking up space. I’m frozen, completely unable to move as my mom sighs, grabs my dad’s shoulders, and walks him from the room, the door clicking shut behind him nearly sending me into space forever.
That didn’t just happen, right? That was all a figment of my imagination, or maybe it was a joke, and my dad is a really good actor in his old age. That must be it. They’ll walk back in here in a second and tell me how much they got me. And they did. It was really good.
My heart thumps in my ears, drowning out everything around me. After a few beats, I wait for the door to reopen, but after a few seconds more, my heart starts to shatter all over again.
That wasn’t real. That wasn’t my dad. It couldn’t have been.
He would’ve recognized me. He would’ve grabbed my hand and told me how excited he was to watch me play.
He would’ve pulled me in for a hug, patted my back, and told me how proud he was of me.
That’s what my dad would do. He wouldn’t look me in the face and tell me that he didn’t recognize me. It’s not possible.
I’m dreaming—that’s it. A nightmare, and I just need to wake up. That has to be …
A bone-breaking shudder runs through my body, and my inhale sounds like a cry for help as tears pool in my eyes and my lungs struggle to breathe.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!
I’m shaking, quivering to the core. My vision is spotting out, and tears race down my face.
He didn’t know who I was. He didn’t know who I was …
“Matt.” Shay’s voice is the only sound that breaks through the barrier.
I grab hold of the serene sound and cling tightly to it, praying it will guide me out of this hopeless cage.
“Matt. Look at me.”
My eyes shift into focus, and I realize I’m still standing in the family box, but with a quick glance around, I see it’s now empty. The only people in here are Shay and me.
“Matt,” she whispers again, timid and shy, like how you’d talk to a wild animal you’re trying to approach. “Look at me.”
I feel like I’ve been drugged, like I’m blinking in and out of reality.
One minute, I’m hearing my dad coach me on the ice when I was a kid, and the next, I see the haunted look in his eyes as he struggles to put the pieces together.
He’s lost, and I really wish I were right there with him right now.
At least then, I wouldn’t feel like this.
Blinking away the cloudiness, I meet Shay’s eyes, suddenly aware of her hands on my cheeks, holding my head in place. She’s crying too, and mindlessly, my hand finds her tears, gently wiping them away.
“Come on. Let’s go,” she murmurs, and I feel like I’d let her lead me to the edge of the world right now.
The sound of pucks on the ice wake me up enough to realize that I can’t just leave.
“Wait.” I stop her from tugging me away. “I can’t go.”
She turns back to me, uncertainty in her gaze. “You’re in no condition to play right now.”
I scoff, a humorless laugh leaving me that cuts me in two. “You can’t decide that, Shay. I’m fine. I’m going to play. That’s what I do. I put everything aside, and I get on the ice and do my damn job.”
“Can we at least talk downstairs in private, where no one can hear us?” She glances side to side, and my ears suddenly tune in to the growing noise from the fans.
Fine. “Yes.”
“Good,” she sighs and pivots on her heel, leading the way out of the box and toward the elevator. We ride down in silence, and I feel like we practically teleported with how quickly we got downstairs.
“Come on.”
I didn’t realize I’d slowed down. I pick my pace back up, catching up to her as she leads me farther down the hallway.
“There you both are! Finally! Matt, we need to get you dressed and lining up. Warm-ups are about to start. They’re just waiting for you.” Andy is frantically rushing down the hallway toward us, concern overtaking him as he nears us. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”
Shay leans in and whispers something to Andy that I can’t hear. What is she telling him? I am perfectly capable of playing.
“How are you feeling right now?” Andy asks me with a straight face.
I shrug off his concern. “I’m fine. I’m ready to play.”
He chucks a pen at me, and I don’t notice until it’s flying past my head, and I react far too late to catch it.
Lifting my hands, palms up, I scoff. “That seriously was not a test, was it?”
Andy puts his hands on his hips and sighs. “I need to talk to Carrington. Rooney, with me. Matt, wait in the locker room.”
“You can’t be serious.” I scoff, anger flooding my system, and, God, I cling to it like a lifeline. “My team needs me!”
“Matt,” Andy says with the weight of a thousand words behind it, “we are here for you, okay? We’re not here for the team or the Cup.
We are here to look out for you. You’re clearly not okay—I can see that with my own eyes.
We’re better off giving you the night off than to risk putting you on the ice and something bad happening. ”
My voice is barely audible. “Shay, what did you tell him?” Betrayal slices at my heart at the thought that she’s the reason I’m going to be benched.
Shay steps toward me. “I didn’t tell him anything specific. Just that you might not be one hundred percent right now.”
“H-how could you do that?” I recoil with my words. I’d rather have her punch me straight in the face.
Tears well in her eyes. “You’re not in the right headspace for this game, Matt. And deep down, you know that.”
She reaches out as my face contorts, the pain refusing to be silenced and pushed down. I let her take my hand, but her touch is nearly scorching against my skin. Her thumb strokes the back of my hand, and I can feel my resolve chipping apart, tearing at the seams.