Chapter 3
austin
“I cannot believe it,” Dirks said as he pulled off his helmet. His blonde hair was stuck to his forehead, and he was glistening with sweat. “I’d thought I’d be able to block every shot.”
I chuckled and gestured to my clothes. “Could you imagine how I’d kick your ass if I were in gear?”
“Fuck,” Dirks groaned. We skated toward the benches, and I pulled out two water bottles from my bag and tossed him one. “Thanks.”
Propping up against the boards, we looked out onto the ice.
“So, you’re home for good, then?”
“With my mom’s café opening, she asked if I’d consider coming back to help out, and I agreed. But . . . I also wanted to be closer to my family again. I’ve realized they were really trying to help me, even when I couldn’t see it, and I want to work on those relationships.”
“How do you feel about it?”
“Eh. I’d created a little life out in Cali for myself. It was nice. It was safe and away from any of my triggers here. My therapist agreed it would be a good thing to come back as long as I stayed on top of my meds and therapy.”
“That’s amazing, man. I’m really fucking proud of you. If you ever want to go out and have a pizza sometime, Alex Popov and I get together. He’s got a kid, so he’s boring as shit.”
“Oh, perfect, same as you, then.”
Dirks laughed. “Fuck, yeah.”
“This was good. I needed to get on the ice.”
“The kids will love you. They’re probably sick and tired of old fucking retired farts coaching them.”
I chuckled. “Yeah. I hope so.”
As our easy conversation naturally waned, an awkward tension hung between us.
“Listen, so—”
“Have you—”
We spoke at the same time, and Dirks motioned for me to continue.
“No, listen, I . . . I know there’s this tension between us that we should probably address.” I hated having deep conversations because they forced me to confront my emotions.
I used to think I understood emotions. I cried in front of women; I was raised by them, surrounded by their strength and vulnerability.
Looking back, I realized I never truly understood what emotion was.
I knew that crying meant sadness, but I didn’t grasp the roots or the depths of that sadness.
I didn’t get it—the aching, the unspoken heaviness that came with it.
It wasn’t until I sat in a therapist’s office during my first year in rehab that I started to understand.
Emotional intelligence wasn’t about showing your tears or saying you’re upset.
It meant leaning into the discomfort, the awkward silences, the messy, tangled threads of feelings we often avoid.
It meant saying the hard things, even when you were terrified of how they’d be received.
“So.” I cleared my throat, scratching the back of my neck. “About the elephant in the room . . . We should probably get it out there, right? Even if it’s awkward.”
Dirks raised an eyebrow, smirking a bit. “Yeah? What’s on your mind?”
“Nova and Luna,” I blurted out. “Have you talked to them?”
Dirks let out a small laugh. “Man, I was about to ask you the same thing.”
I let out a heavy sigh, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees.
“No, I haven’t. During rehab . . . I sent a big payment to Nova—well, Ledger handled it for me.
It felt like the least I could do after everything.
But that’s where it ended. I haven’t tried reaching out since.
” I hesitated. “She made it clear she didn’t want me in her life, and I wanted to respect that. I want to respect her boundaries.”
I knew I needed to respect my own boundaries, but I couldn’t ignore the fact that what I put Nova through was incomprehensible. I dropped my gaze to my feet as the weight of it settled over me.
“I’m happy for her, though,” I said, lifting my eyes to meet Dirks’s.
I meant it. Last year, when I stumbled across an article about her dating a rugby player, I thought it would wreck me.
I expected the hurt and the pain to come rushing back.
“I Googled her a while back to see how she was doing and found a few paparazzi shots from when she was pregnant. She’s got a partner and a kid. ”
“I wasn’t sure if you’d seen that or if I should bring it up. You okay?”
“I’m good,” I said, and I meant it. “She looks . . . happy.”
“She does, and she’s killing it on the team’s socials too.”
I’d noticed that too. Nova had taken over as head of social media marketing and grown the team’s following to over a million. She posted videos constantly—interviews with the players, behind-the-scenes moments. She was thriving, and instead of it hurting, I felt a strange sort of peace.
I thought seeing her move on would tear me apart.
I thought the pain would sear straight through me, like it had every other time I thought about her.
I expected the familiar sting of jealousy, the bitter taste of regret clawing its way up my throat, reminding me of everything I’d lost and everything I’d destroyed.
But it didn’t come. Instead, an odd calm, a quiet acceptance, settled over me.
Maybe it was because, for the first time, I could see that we were better apart.
She’d found her happiness, built a life full of the things she deserved, and I wasn’t the weight dragging her down anymore.
It didn’t hurt like I thought it would because I wasn’t looking at her through the same lens of guilt and self-loathing.
I felt . . . relieved. Relieved that she was okay.
Relieved that I was okay, that I could finally let go of the guilt and stop carrying the weight of what we used to be.
It didn’t mean the memories didn’t sting sometimes, but they didn’t define me anymore.
She was living her life, and for the first time, I realized I could too.
I glanced up at Dirks, searching his face for any sign he understood. “What about Luna?” I asked. “Have you kept in touch?”
Dirks shook his head. “Nah, man. She cut me off completely after everything went down with Jeremy. Didn’t give me a chance to explain and lumped us both together.
One minute, we were good, and the next, it was like I didn’t exist. I thought about reaching out, but .
. . she made it clear she needed space. And I wasn’t about to push myself where I wasn’t wanted.
” He paused, his jaw tightening as he stared off.
“Still hurts, though. Like whatever shot I had with her . . . slipped through my fingers.”
I swallowed hard, understanding exactly where he was coming from. I couldn’t ignore the wave of relief that washed over me. If Dirks wasn’t talking to Luna or Nova, it meant I didn’t have to compete with those lingering ties from our past. There was a sense of safety in that.
I looked down at my hands. If not for the medications, I’d feel the familiar shake, the need to pick up the bottle and drown the uncomfortable with the warm liquid.
The person I was when I was with her and the person I’d worked so hard to become since then felt like two entirely different lifetimes. The guilt, the shame—they were always there, shadows that threatened to resurface if I dwelled too long on them. I couldn’t let myself go there.
“Anyway,” Dirks said, patting my shoulder. “You date any LA girls?”
I laughed, grateful for the shift in conversation. “Nah, I’m not really interested in dating anyone. The next person I’m with, I want it to be forever.”
“Ah.” Dirks pushed himself off the boards and headed toward the locker room. “So, you and your right hand have a special bond, huh?”
I burst out laughing, trailing behind him as we stepped off the ice. “This was fun.”
“It really was.”
My phone buzzed, and I glanced down to see a reminder for my doctor’s appointment to renew my prescriptions and set up my therapy sessions. “I’ve got to head out, but we should do this again sometime.”
“Definitely,” Dirks chuckled, pulling me into a quick hug before heading into the locker room.
I’d spent so many nights lying awake, convinced that returning meant I’d fall back into the same destructive patterns—the ones that nearly broke me. I was an addict, after all, and that part of me would never vanish.