Talk Hockey to Me (Bears Hockey #3) - Kelly Jamieson Page 0,69
hours hiking and walking along the beach, sometimes finding a warm, dry rock to sit on and look out at the ocean, sometimes exploring small caves. Vast and wild and mysterious, the never-ending rhythm of the water calms something inside me. It helps me think.
I do a lot of thinking.
What the fuck am I going to do?
I want that Bears contract. Kate is right. It’s everything I wanted. The money’s not top dollar but I’m not a top dollar player. I want them to commit to me for three years. I want to feel like I’m valued. I know I had an unusual path to professional hockey and I’m grateful every day to the Storm for taking a chance on me, and now the Bears want to do it for three years. I should be ecstatic.
But I keep thinking about Easton and Josh. I keep thinking about how seeing them every day is going to affect me. I’m terrified I can’t handle that. What if I sign a contract for three years and in the first month I fall apart?
Fuck. I have to have more confidence in myself than that.
This whole thing has sent me spiraling back in time, to right after the bus crash, when I couldn’t sort out what I was thinking or feeling. I can’t feel like that again.
Walking on the beach, I pick up a piece of driftwood. I like the shape of it, the smoothness and soft curves. I carry it with me as I amble barefoot through the sand.
What if I’ve screwed up not only the Bears’ deal but the other two offers as well? What if I’ve fucked up my whole career? Again?
The thought has me dropping to my ass on the sand to stare out at the water. I can’t do that again. I can’t let that happen again.
I’ve only been gone a few days. Surely Kate won’t let that happen?
I was an asshole to her, though. It would serve me right.
It’s easy to blame her for what’s happening, but deep inside I know this is not her fault. I was pissed that she was pushing me, pissed that she thought she could fix me when I’m so broken I can never be fixed. I’ve known that all along.
I drop my head forward, closing my eyes.
That’s the other issue. I love Kate. I don’t want to be broken. I want to be whole, for her. I want her to love me back. And now I’ve pretty much made sure that’ll never happen.
My throat closes up. In a way, this thought has me ganked up even more than losing my hockey career.
Kate.
My mind is full of images of her, going all the way back to college. Her red cheeks as I handed over her pink lace panties in the dorm. Her confidence and hockey knowledge that destroyed idiots who thought women didn’t know anything about hockey. Her tears that day she was so overwhelmed with life, when she was always so disciplined and fearless.
The day I saw her kissing Henry in the kitchen at Bingo’s. The crushing disappointment I felt, when I’d finally gotten up the nerve to ask her out.
* * *
And that night in Cancun. When she was finally all mine.
And then I had to leave.
Now, I’ve left her again. Fucking running away from my feelings, because I’m scared. Because I don’t believe I can ever really have her. She’ll never love me.
What the hell can I do about all this?
Maybe I should go see Roberta again. The counselor I saw after the accident. I wonder if she has time?
I pull out my phone, but service is weak here.
I start walking, my steps lengthening. I have to call her. I have to talk to her. She’ll help me figure things out.
When I’m close to the resort, I sit on a bench on a bluff and unlock my phone again. I don’t have her number anymore, but a quick Google search brings it up. Taking a deep breath, I set my thumb on the “call” button.
I have to leave a voice mail, which sucks, because this is urgent, goddammit. My heart is zooming and I feel like I’m going to burst out of my skin.
Okay, okay. Calm down. You can wait.
I enter the hotel and head to the restaurant. It’s lunch time, so I should eat. I’m seated at a pine table at the window and I order a grilled ham and cheese sandwich and a Coke.