17. Sean
The morning practice is supposed to be short, but with my thoughts distracted, time seems to slow around me. My mind is either unable or unwilling to stop turning over the events of last night in my head. My imagination is as real as if it’s happening again, preventing me from focusing on the puck as it flies across the ice, always past me. I can feel the guys staring daggers into my back, but it doesn’t help.
Inhaling sharply, I swear under my breath as memories of Astrid flash back last night. My lips on hers. The way her little hands felt against my skin or tangled in my hair. Her eagerness. Her excitement. The way it felt to buried deep inside of her as she moaned my name.
Connor slaps a heavy hand on my shoulder as he skates past. “Dude, what’s wrong? Get it together, man. Before Tommy benches you.”
I shake my head. I don’t need the words said out loud to know that Tommy picks up on my poor performance. I force myself to think about the ice in front of me, about hockey, about anything other than Astrid and how fucking perfect she is. My determination only works so well. Our time together has replayed on a loop in my brain a thousand times a day since she moved in. And today is no exception. I can’t escape her. And getting out of this practice alive is going to take more concentration and iron-clad will than I have left in me.
Coach Tommy barks out instructions, and the drills start again. The crisp air of the arena fills my lungs as I focus on each movement, pushing aside the distractions that threaten to intrude. We move as a unit, the synchronicity of the team building a collective determination.
“Bro. You’re slow today,” Mike shouts, skating past after I missed a pass.
“Is it that girl?” Cory asks, grumbling, circling around me as we make our way back to center ice.
Is it?
“Guys, focus!” Coach Matt’s order echoes through the arena.
It’s like once those words are out, they plant a seed in my mind that twists its way around everything. And once that seed of doubt is planted, it takes root. Suddenly a mere whisper from a teammate resonates in the recesses of my mind. Is it that girl? The words hang in the air, and I cant help but pause, my gaze drifting momentarily from the puck.
Long enough to have it stolen away again by the defense. Fuck.
Any attempt at immersing myself in the rhythm of the game is for nothing. I can see the ice and the guys in front of me, but I can’t navigate through them, let alone with any direction or purpose.
I’d say I’m going through the motions but that would be generous. It’s more like I’m skating around the ice, taking up space and praying that it will be enough to count as practice.
I start to think I’ve gotten away with it too until Coach calls practice. The guys move off the ice, their conversations abuzz with the usual banter, but my thoughts remain tethered to the man I feel watching me.
But I can’t deal with this right now. The sweat drips down my face and I’m desperate to get into the shower and then get home. And despite my best efforts to walk fast and avoid eye contact, I can sense him approaching as I walk back towards the locker room. Great. I do my best to ignore him anyway, hoping he’ll lose interest as I strip off my gear for a much-needed reprieve.
A cold, cold shower.
“You forget how to play?” Coach Tommy asks, his voice dripping in disdain.
I lean against the locker. Fuck. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve Coach Tommy’s constant critical gaze but it’s really starting to piss me off. Sure, my game was sloppy today, but not enough for this.
“Having an off day, Coach,” I snap back and regret it, giving him a tight smile to make up for the bite in my tone.
Regardless of my feelings about him, he is still my coach. Assistant coach.
I hear the guys scatter behind me and I have to school my face to not roll my eyes in annoyance. Fuck them.
“It’s starting to be more than just one day.” I ignore Tommy’s smug smirk.
“I’m working on it.” Not that I’d expect him to understand. Tommy can act as hard as he wants, but his career never made it off the bench. Those who can’t, coach. Usually the saying doesn’t apply to the professional leagues, but with Tommy it absolutely does.
“Unless you’re trying to be cut, Daniels, I’d say you need to work on it faster.” And with that, he turns away.
My hands clench into fists at my side. Fucking asshole.
I wait until he disappears around the corner to say anything. “I don’t understand him,” I direct to Connor, who stands next to me, slamming my locker harder than necessary. My fingers pulse with the desire to punch something.
Connor shakes his head. “You don’t have to understand him, man. He’s the coach. That’s all you need to know.”
“He’s a fucking prick.”
“Yeah, well.” Connor looks me up and down. “Maybe the words came off wrong, but his intention is right. You looked lost today, man.” He gives me a tight smile before stepping around me and leaving me alone.
Am I lost? I haven’t been playing my best, but I don’t think I’ve been playing my worst either.
I pack up the rest of my gear and go, praying that I can slip away before anyone else has a chance to stop me. I’m done talking today.
I exit the arena, the cold air hitting me like a reality check. No matter what I try to distract myself with, the doubt lingers, a persistent whisper in the recesses of my mind.
Maybe I just need to rewatch some footage of games from this month and reassess what’s happening on the ice, rather than constantly picking apart my life.
I shove my stuff into the back of my car and speed out of the parking lot. As I head home, the familiar roads I usually take seem to stretch on forever. I just want to get home. Is the entire universe out to slow me down?
I turn up the music, desperate to do something that will silence the questions bouncing around in my head. I don’t want to be left alone to ponder whether the pace at which Astrid and I have found each other is a blessing or a challenge that were unprepared to face.
These aren’t thoughts I can figure out in one day and I hate the fact that Coach and the others put that pressure on me after the perfect day I had yesterday.
By the time I pull into the garage, I’m spent. My limbs are tired and my head hurts. The day unfolded in a way that I never would have expected. And unfortunately, the tension builds within the confines of the house as well.
Astrid’s smile slips away when she sees me.
“Are you okay?” she asks, hesitantly. Her voice sounds softer and more unsure than usual.
“Yeah. I’m okay. Just a rough practice.” It’s an understatement by far, but I can’t find it in myself to explain further.
She nods her head, giving me a quick hug, but she chews her bottom lip as if she wants to say more.
For a moment, I stay still, waiting for her to ask the words I can see written on her face. Is it her, did she upset me.
But I can’t bring myself to answer things she hasn’t said out loud. I’ve done enough damage for one day. That last thing I need to do is comfort her about a concern she doesn’t have, only to give her something new to worry about.
“Are you excited for your first away game?” She shifts uncomfortably before me.
I sigh. I am definitely not. “Yeah…” It’s all I can get out without outright lying to her. I am not looking forward to leaving. Leaving just means that I’ll be away from her, left alone with my new concerns, and stuck with the men who gave them to me.
The air is thick with unspoken words, and the imminent departure of my away game casts a shadow over the once-familiar surroundings.
“Are you nervous for the game?” Astrid presses. Her eyebrows are knit with concern. She’s picking up on my unspoken emotions.
I don’t want her to worry about me, so I give her a bit of truth, not wanting to bog her down by thoughts that I’m sure will untangle the moment we win.
She isn’t distracting me. That’s silly. Tommy is wrong and Cory and Connor are my friends, just calling me out on my shit. It’s just a slump. Everything is fine.
“Yeah,” I say, running a hand through my hair. “We lost to them at home, so away…” I swallow, deciding last second to tell her something. “Coach said my head wasn’t in it at practice today and he was right.” Having the words off my shoulders feels good.
She looks at me for a moment before responding. “You’re going to do great, Sean.” Her tentative fingers stroke my arm. “You’re an amazing player.” She reassures me.
“I know.” I close my eyes, leaning into her touch. Something about having her near me gives me a sense of relief. “I just got to believe it.” And I need to believe that I’m not making the wrong decision investing in my personal life for the first time in my career. “I’m going to pack.” I gesture towards my room and leave Astrid with a small smile.
“Let me know if you need anything.” Her voice carries after me.
I breathe a sigh of relief as I close my bedroom door behind me. Shutting her out like this doesn’t feel good, and I hate how concerned she is for me. She doesn’t deserve to see me like this.
The sounds of packing echo through the rooms as I gather my belongings. The clatter of a suitcase being zipped shut punctuates the quiet, amplifying the gravity of the moment. I feel like this game somehow serves as an indictment for what will happen next.
Astrid moves through the house with a sense of purpose, her movements deliberate yet tinged with an underlying tension. I know that she’s trying to figure out if there’s more wrong than what I’ve admitted to.
I can tell by the way she lingers nearby. Never pushing me for more information, but rather staying close at all times, as if she excepts me to open up at any minute.
And suddenly I can’t wait to leave. The tension I’ve created is too much. It’s my fault. I know that I can’t keep up this lie much longer. Astrid has a way of getting the truth out of me. The longer I stay in this house the more likely she is to get me to admit to what Tommy really said.
In the midst of my preparations, Violet senses the shift in energy too. Her usual stoic demeanor is replaced by a quiet contemplation. Instead of coloring in the corner, or building her Legos by herself, she clings to Astrid, as if seeking reassurance. The impending separation weighs on my little family, and the house, once a sanctuary, now feels like a temporary refuge.
I’m bringing them down, and I can’t stay here while I do that to them.
“All right, I’m all packed. So uh, I’m going to head out.” I stand.
Violet rushes over to hug me and I lift her into my arms, hugging her tight.
“Be good for me while I’m gone, okay? Listen to Astrid.”
“Okay.” She says into my shoulder.
I hug her until her little arms pull back first, only then setting her down.
“Thank you, for everything,” I say, looking at Astrid. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”
She closes the distance between us in two steps and wraps her arms around my middle, burying her face into my chest and not letting go.
I stroke her back, hating myself for putting her through this. She deserves so much better.
“You’re going to do great, don’t be nervous,” she says eventually, still not letting me go.
I stroke her head, placing a kiss on the top of her hair. “Thank you,” I say.
“I’m going to watch you, okay. I will make sure that you win. Okay? I think that I’m good luck.”
That makes me laugh and I squeeze her tighter. “Alright lucky charm.” I rub her head.
She pushes back and fixes the tangles I’ve created, giving me a playful, dirty look.
“I’ll text you.”
“Okay.” She smiles but I can see the sadness in her eyes as she does so.
I hate that I’ve done this to her. I should’ve dealt with my shit in the car on the way home and presented myself as happy and carefree, the version of me that left this house this morning, the version that she deserves.
As I move towards the garage door, the symbolic threshold of departure, the tension doubles. Astrid watches me, I can feel it. And when I turn around, her expression is a blend of concern and affection. The unspoken understanding between us is palpable, a silent acknowledgment of the challenges that we both are about to face in my absence.
She doesn’t deserve this.
I open the door, but I stand there, my gaze lingering on Astrid and Violet.
I love you.”
I say it to Violet, but if I’m being honest, its for both of them, a final peace offering, as the door closes behind me.