Page 122 of Promise Me

“It’s all going to work out, Boss. Just give it time.”

I huff and walk around her.

She has no idea what she’s talking about.

The last time someone told me something similar, I lost everything and ended up right back in the same place as before.

I push on the door a little too hard, and it flies open.

“Oh shit,” someone says on the other side.

I want to not give a shit if I hit someone with the door, but no matter how much I hate life right now, I don’t want to let myself sink to the level I did before. Sadie might not want anything to do with me, but she would be disappointed if I fell again.

“Sorry, man, I …” My words trail off as I come face to face with Carver Watkins and Archer Hittman.

The three of us stand frozen, staring at one another. While I’m stuck in shock, my former best friends and teammates look relieved.

What are the fucking odds of this right now? I don’t need this, this reminder of how far my life has fallen. Yet somehow, that thought isn’t enough to make me move my feet and walk away.

“Hey,” Carver says first.

“Hi.”

“My, uh, my sister is getting married at the lodge this weekend,” Archer adds, jerking a thumb over his right shoulder.

They’re here because of convenience, not for any other reason.

Sweet.

Then again, I haven't kept in touch with anyone since I left, so how did they know where to find me? They knew I was from here, but I didn't tell anyone I was moving back.

“We called your brother,” Carver says quickly. “Luca.”

“Three years later,” I shout before I can think better of it.

“We tried to call you back when …” Archer’s words trail off. “But you changed your number.”

It’s true—I changed my number after only a couple of weeks.

These were my best friends.

I didn’t just lose hockey that day, and that’s what hit me the most. If they weren’t going to call after a measly two weeks, my mind was made up that they weren’t ever going to call. I was going to erase as much of that life as I could.

Now, yes, I see that might have been a rash choice, but it doesn’t change the fact they never tried harder to reach me.

“You should have showed up at my door or called the next day or the day after that or?—”

“You never called us either,” Carver snaps. “You didn’t reach out. So we gave you space because we thought that’s what you wanted.”

His words are like a slap in the face.

Space.

I loathe that word.

“But you clearly didn’t want space. We just didn’t know that.”

“Yeah, man, we were just doing what we thought was best.”

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