done.
Coach gave me permission to make my own way to Worcester today. It’s unheard of, but I think my less-than-stellar performance at practice these last three days genuinely shook him up. He’s worried I might lose us this game. And he’s right to worry. My concentration is shot. Breaking up with Brenna wrecked me.
I made a mistake.
I made a mistake, and I knew it the moment she left my apartment. Ending it was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. I acted out of fear, not logic, and it backfired on me, because now my head is even further away from where it’s supposed to be.
It’s ironic. All that bullshit I spewed about needing to rid myself of distractions—which was a total lie to begin with—resulted in creating an even bigger disruption in my brain. Brenna wasn’t a distraction, but this breakup sure as hell is.
So Coach gave me a pass and I drove to Worcester on my own. I found a diner and fueled up with a big, greasy breakfast. At some point I realized I forgot my phone at home, but I don’t need it. Nothing is allowed to exist today beyond this one game. We win this, we progress to the Frozen Four. It’s enough pressure to make a weaker man choke, but I’m not that man. I might’ve been weak about my relationship with Brenna, but I’m not weak about hockey. Never have been, never will be.
Loud footsteps thud out in the hall. For a second I think the rest of the team has arrived early, until I hear evidence of a scuffle. More footsteps, a thump, and an outraged male shout.
“I told you, you can’t go in there!”
“We just need a minute,” someone insists. “Seriously, what the hell do you think we’re gonna do in there? Murder the guy?”
I don’t recognize the second voice. I assume the first one is security.
“Sorry, not happening, kid. I can’t let you in there.”
“Come on, Hollis,” urges a third voice. “We’ll track him down later.”
Hollis? As in Mike Hollis?
I jump up from the bench and sprint to the door. “Wait,” I say, flinging it open. “It’s cool. I know them.”
The security guard’s hawk-like gaze sweeps over me. “Nobody else is supposed to be in here.”
“We’ll keep it quick,” I assure him. “Two minutes, tops.”
He steps aside.
A few seconds later, I’m in the locker room with the last two people I expected to see today. Mike Hollis has his arms crossed tight to his broad chest. Colin Fitzgerald is more relaxed, with his arms at his sides. He’s wearing a V-neck sweater with the sleeves rolled up, and there’s ink peeking out from under his collar and his cuffs. Dude’s totally tatted up, I realize.
“How did you know I was here?” I ask the Briar players.
“The goon told us,” Hollis says.
“The goon?”
“Weston,” Fitzgerald supplies, grinning. “My girlfriend Summer texted him.”
“Ah.”
“Are we done with the small talk?” Hollis asks politely.
I fight a laugh. I wonder if they’re going for a good cop, bad cop approach. “Sure, I guess we’re done.” I make a gracious gesture toward him. “Why are you here?”
“Because we wanted to beat some sense into you.”
“Please don’t we this,” Fitzgerald objects. “I just drove you here.”
Hollis glares at his teammate. “You’re saying you don’t give a shit that he broke Jensen’s heart?”
I suck in a breath. I broke her heart? Did she tell them that?
Hollis spins toward me again. “You are such a dumbass, Connelly. You made the biggest mistake of your dumbass life when you broke up with Brenna.”
“I know.”
“First of all, she’s gorgeous. It’s almost disgusting how gorgeous she is. She’s smart and witty and hilarious and—wait, what do you mean, ‘you know’?”
Shrugging, I lower myself onto the bench. They remain standing, and I suddenly feel like I’m a kid being scolded by my two dads.
“I mean I know,” I say unhappily. “It was a huge mistake. One I’m going to rectify the second we beat Michigan.”
“If you knew it was a mistake, then why didn’t you rectify it days ago?” Hollis demands.
“Because I have a game to play.”
Because I’m fucking terrified of facing her.
There’s no way I’m admitting that to these two boneheads, but it’s the truth, the real truth.
I suppose I could take the easy way out and blame Hazel for my actions. She was the one who induced my panic by hammering me with all those questions, asking if I was ready, warning how hard it was going to be, how impossible long-distance relationships