Chapter 49 – Waylon
chapter
forty-nine
Waylon
I felt like shit. If it weren’t for hockey, I might not have left my room, but Trace kept hovering, so I made it to practice and class. The rest of the time, I was useless.
Fuck, I missed her.
Every day, I had to stop myself from calling her. Every time I saw something funny, I reached for my phone to text her before I remembered.
We hadn’t even been together that long, but somehow she’d become the person I wanted to tell everything to.
And that motherfucker was walking around like nothing had happened.
After a grueling practice, I collapsed on my bed. Dr. Bob grinned at me from the nightstand.
“She’s not coming back, my guy.”
I hadn’t moved the bobblehead. It was the first thing I saw when I woke up, Dr. Bob, World’s Greatest Doctor, five inches of painted grin in a little white coat, sitting on my nightstand like nothing had changed and Josie wasn’t gone.
I lay there. The cottage had been quiet since August, when I moved in alone because I didn’t want roommates, noise, or anybody in my space. I’d liked it that way.
But Josie had made it feel lived in, like a home. Now every room felt empty.
You know how pathetic this sounds right?
Oh, I was more than aware. It didn’t matter how much I tried to pretend she’d come back any day now. I knew that was a lie.
She hadn’t hesitated. She’d stood in my doorway Friday afternoon with her chin up, told me she was sorry, meant it, and left.
You didn’t go after her.
I had thought about it. Hell I had my car keys in my hand, and I was on the verge of saying fuck it and chasing her down. But the tears in her eyes had stopped me. She’d been shredding herself from the inside.
I might not agree with her decision and it might be killing me. But that hadn’t been easy for her. She always thought things through.
And for the most part she wasn’t wrong. When I sat on the couch and thought about everything Marcus could still wreck, her mom’s job, my draft, I couldn’t see a way around it. He’d already cost Josie one scholarship and come after her spot on the team.
If I chased her, he’d keep coming. Next time, he might do worse than make a phone call.
Trace barely knocked before barging in.
“You’re not dead,” he said. “Good. I had a whole speech.”
The Coulters walked into every room like they owned it. He dropped a paper bag on the counter that smelled like the good Thai place forty minutes out. He’d driven forty minutes for Thai.
“You haven’t been answering,” he said.
“Phone’s been weird.”
“Your phone’s been weird.” He pulled out a stool and looked at me the way he looked at a defensive read he didn’t like.
“Way. It’s been three days. You missed two optional skates and one that wasn’t, you look like a before picture, and Ryder’s texting me asking if he should worry.
When Ryder’s worried, the whole barn’s on fire. ”
I leaned against the counter. “I’m fine.”
“Yeah.” He nodded slow. “That’s the thing you say. I’ve heard you say it with a broken hand.” He didn’t smile. “Enough’s enough, man. You gonna be okay?”
I should’ve said yes, that I was good, thanks for the Thai, now get out so I could go back to staring at the ceiling. Instead, my jaw tightened.
“All I want to do is take care of her. That’s it. That’s the whole — I just want to take care of her. And she won’t let me.”
Trace didn’t jump in.
“She looked at everything coming for me,” I said, “and she got out of the way. Like I was the thing that needed protecting. Like I couldn’t —” I stopped. “I take care of people. That’s what I do. It’s the one thing I’m actually —”
“I know what you do.” He kept it low. “I’m the guy who told you you’d let the whole building burn down before you’d ask somebody to hand you a hose. Remember that?”
“Freshman year.”
“I stand by it.” He turned the takeout bag a quarter turn on the counter, not looking at it. “Can I say a thing? You’re not gonna like it.”
I scowled at him. “You’re saying it anyway.”
“I am.” He looked up. “Maybe she doesn’t need you to take care of her, Way. Maybe she never did.” He waited a beat. “Maybe she just wanted you. For you, man. Not for what you do for everybody. Just you.”
Fuck. That shit made my heart ache.
“I’m done watching you in zombie mode, bro. Time to get your shit together. Either go get your girl, or figure out a way to fuck Marcus’s shit up. Hell, maybe both. But the moping around has to stop.”
Trace was basically acting like my mother. He told me to eat, told me Tuesday’s skate wasn’t optional and he’d lie to Coach for me exactly once. Then he was gone, and the cottage was quiet again.
Why was my best friend on fucking watch duty?
I was fucking fine.
Sure you are.
Okay, fine. Maybe I wasn’t. I was in love with Josie, and I’d stood there like a dumbass while she walked away.
Except I kept thinking about what Trace had said.
“Maybe she just wanted you.”
If she wanted me, then why didn’t she fight harder?
Why didn’t you?
The draft notes had been open on the laptop in the other room. I’d pulled up Aaron’s last email yesterday, the breakdown of where every team had me sitting after Marcus started calling. Seattle had backed off. Dallas had stopped returning Aaron’s calls. I shut the laptop and hadn’t opened it since.
I’d called my mom last night and got her voicemail.
Hey, it’s me. Just checking in. Call when you get a break.
She was on nights again. It felt like she was always on nights, and sometimes I wondered if she kept taking them so she wouldn’t have to be awake in that apartment alone now that I was gone.
She’d call tomorrow sometime between shifts, sounding worn out, and ask if I was eating and tell me about the attending making her insane. She hadn’t called yet.
My phone sat next to Dr. Bob. The audio file was still on it.
I’ll destroy her before I let you have her.
Fucking Marcus. It was always fucking Marcus, and now Josie was gone.
So are you going to give up and let that douchecunt win? Or are you going to fight for her?