the way around. We lost both games, due in no small part to my lack of concentration. We have another game on Monday, but I’m sure Coach will put Locke in if I don’t get my head out of my ass.
Maybe that’s for the best. I’m sure he could do a better job than I can right now, anyway. It doesn’t matter how I try to psych myself up, it’s not working. I’m not big on feeling sorry for myself, yet that’s exactly how I feel.
Like a pathetic ass.
I’ve managed to keep my distance from Ellie. We shared a couple of texts since I saw her on Saturday, but nothing more than that. I haven’t been in the mood to talk to anyone. I’m sure it’s evident in the way I carry myself, in the smartass comments I’ve been making to anyone and everyone around me. I’m pissed and I don’t know why.
Okay, that’s a lie on both fronts. One, I do know what the problem is, and two, I’m not pissed. I’m actually confused as fuck.
Here I was, moving along with Ellie, and out of the blue, this man comes into the picture. She doesn’t know him from Adam, but at one time he was all up inside her—a visual image that makes me want to put my fist through the wall—getting her pregnant and all but ensuring he would get to be a part of her life indefinitely. I know she’ll want to get to know him. Why wouldn’t she? She had a kid with the guy. It doesn’t even matter—and it probably never will—that I’ve been there for Bianca far longer than he has been. I love that kid more than he ever possibly could. We don’t have to share the same blood to be family, and that’s how I feel about her.
This is killing me slowly.
“You want another?” the bartender asks as he passes by me.
I glance down at the Jack and Coke, or what’s left of it, anyway. I nod. Why the hell not? I’m not going anywhere else tonight except up to my room. I might as well drink until I feel no pain.
Something has to stop this ache that has consumed me.
I’ve purposely not mentioned James’s name to Ellie because I don’t want to know the details. I don’t want her to tell me that she called him or went to see him or, worse, let Bianca meet him. I prefer to be blessedly ignorant in that regard. But then I spend all my time wondering if she called him or went to see him or, worse, let Bianca meet him. It’s a no-win situation. Not knowing hurts as much as knowing.
Why the fuck did this guy have to show up now? Just when things are getting good. What if Ellie falls in love with him? Or even if she simply wants to be with him so they can raise Bianca together. Where the fuck does that leave me?
“Here you go.” The Jack and Coke appears in front of me. “This one’s on the house.”
“Thanks,” I mumble, wishing I could appear more appreciative.
Right now, I simply don’t have it in me.
Meanwhile, in hockey news…
“Jim, are you as baffled as I am? I’m not sure exactly what happened out there tonight. This Arrows team certainly isn’t the one that came roaring out of the gate at the beginning of the season.”
“I completely agree, Ed. Look back at the highlights from the net tonight. Rush looked like a rookie out there.”
“You’re right, Jim. Nothing like the seasoned goaltender we know him to be. I’d be tempted to say he looks a lot like he did at the end of last season.”
“He was all over the place. Three goals on him and I guarantee you, all three of those he would want to give back.”
“Those were the types of goals, Jim, that a net minder gets ninety-nine point nine percent of the time. Never fail. Yet tonight…”
“It was like he wasn’t even there, Ed. Not even there. I don’t know why Moen kept him in the game.”
“I don’t know, Jim. The Arrows are going to have to ramp it up if they want to make it to the postseason this year. A couple of bad games won’t do any damage, but they can’t let it get out of control. That’s what happened to them for the past two years. I only hope Moen’s keeping his thumb on these guys. They’ve got a solid team, but a