Tripping (Iced #2) - Kristine Allen Page 0,57

We had to be back for an early afternoon skate. It was going to suck after the abuse I’d put my body through that morning.

Once in my truck, I pulled out my phone. Noting the time, I figured Bleu might be at lunch. At least I hoped she would be. As I pulled out of the lot, I tried to call.

“Hi! You’ve reached Bleu! You know what to do.”

Debating about leaving a message, I decided to try again in a few minutes.

Except when I tried a few minutes later, I got the same response. For the next hour that I called, it went straight to her voicemail. Irritation surfaced as I wondered if she’d blocked me.

It was a petty move, and one I didn’t think she’d have done. Maybe she turned her phone off while she was conducting classes. She hadn’t before, but well, maybe….

I shot her a text.

Me: Hey. Can you please call me? I’d like to talk about last night. I feel like shit. I think we both overreacted. Please?

After I hit Send, I went inside my house, made a salad and a sandwich. As I ate, I watched old games to study things I could do better and things I’d fucked up on.

By the time I had to return to the arena, she still hadn’t responded.

Nor had she responded by the time I dressed to get on the ice.

The fresh ice beckoned, and we stepped out and began to warm up. Coach went over the plan for the day and had us play a quick one on one. Then we skated laps at a hard and fast pace, with a minute-five rest period, then at it again. Sweat soaked all of our jerseys by the time we were done.

We kept moving through the entire practice; even when we were taking a break, we didn’t sit for long. Conditioning was crucial for every game, but with three games coming back-to-back, we needed to be sure we could be resilient.

“Good practice!” Coach shouted as we wrapped up. He gave us a few last-minute instructions and a reminder of our timeline for the road trip, then dismissed us.

I headed straight for my phone to see if Bleu had replied.

Nothing.

It was hard to pretend everything was great when my stomach was churning and my chest ached. As I undressed, I rubbed at the pain, willing it to go away. I hurried through my shower to check my phone again.

Alex’s locker was next to mine, and I ignored the way he watched me. If I pretended I didn’t notice, I wouldn’t have to engage.

“Dude. What the hell is up with you? You haven’t said more than five words to any of us all day.” He finally confronted me. Keeping my face intentionally blank, I shoved my phone in my back pocket and packed up my shit that was coming home with me.

“Nothing. Just in my own head a lot about this road trip,” I lied. He snorted like he knew damn well I was full of shit. Kris cast a covert glance my way, and I silently prayed he wouldn’t say anything. It wasn’t something I was ready to admit yet. Jordan watched from the other side of Alex.

To ease their minds, I gave them a wide smile. I hefted my duffle bag over my shoulder. “It’s all good. I’m heading home to pack. See you losers later.”

They laughed, and Jordan threw a wadded-up towel at my head. I caught it and threw it back.

When I got to my truck, I checked again. Still nothing, so I shot her off another text.

Me: Bleu. Please. I want to talk to you before I leave

As I hit Send, I worried that I sounded like a needy pussy. I never chased after a girl, but I had Bleu. I didn’t do relationships, but I had with her. She had turned everything I knew upside down, and I refused to accept that after one argument we could be over.

I understood where she was coming from, but I hadn’t meant to come off as overbearing. Yeah, I enjoyed nice things, but I didn’t intentionally throw money around to make myself look important. I simply wanted to do nice things for her and wanted her with me as much as I could.

She’d become important to me. Except there was no way to tell her any of that if she wouldn’t talk to me.

I loved her, goddamn it, and that made the shit hurt more than I would’ve thought.