Page 7 of A Christmas For Holly

“Right,” Oscar defended, although he seemed uncertain. My monster lurched inside me.

Gentry nodded at the question. “The program is designed to be a supportive, non-judgmental resource rather than a mandatory requirement.”

“So, I don’t have to do it,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck. “I don’t have CTE, no major concussions left untreated, nothing like that.”

“I know.”

“But you still think this is what I need?” I waved the brochure.

He tilted his head and examined me. “Yes.”

“I need to… I have to…” I had to get out of there before losing my composure. I slammed the door shut behind me and broke into a run as soon as I hit the familiar, empty corridors. With a wave at George, the security guy who never questioned my fumbled landing, I vaulted the gate at the players’ exit. I heard Oscar shouting, but I was racing out of the parking lot in my car before he could catch me. I might be mentally fucked, but I was still an athlete who worked out every day.

My monster pushed me to head for the hills and away from people. I held it together as I drove aimlessly up to the John Boyd Thacher State Park, finding a quiet lookout where I could see the entire city spread out below. I sat there in my car for so long, that the streetlights of Albany flickered like distant stars, the sunset casting long shadows over the skyline. I hadn’t realized how much time had passed—the entire day hadslipped by, and now the darkness was settling in. The weight of everything pressed down on me, suffocating. My hands shook as I fumbled with the bottle of medication, popping a pill and swallowing it dry. I closed my eyes, leaning back, waiting for the familiar numbness to wash over me, to dull the sharp edges of the thoughts swirling in my head.

My cell buzzed, and for a split second, I felt a surge of hope, thinking maybe—just maybe—it was someone who could pull me out of this spiral. But then I saw Kai’s name on the screen, and all I felt was shame. I let it ring, staring at the name, willing it to stop. It didn’t. Again, it rang. And again. Kai was persistent, always had been. He was my best friend. He knew me too well.

The fourth time, I caved and answered, my voice rough. “Yeah?”

“So, your retirement announcement is on the NHL app,” he said, his voice partly obscured by what sounded like rushing wind in the background.

I swallowed hard, my throat tight, choking on words that wouldn’t come. I could barely manage a whisper. “Yeah…”

“Holly?”

“I’m okay,” I said way too fast. The words were forced; if I used them enough, they might become true.

There was a pause on the other end, which meant Kai wasn’t buying a single word of it, and I heard a ticking, like a turn signal. Was he calling me from his car? That would explain thewhooshingsounds.

“We’re about an hour from you,” he announced, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Bailey is with me.”

“No!” I snapped, my voice harsher than I meant. “I don’t need you to do that!” My hand tightened around the wheel, and I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to keep it together. “I’m just tired. I need to sleep. I’m okay.”

“You’re not okay,” Kai said, his voice softer now, as if he was trying to coax the truth out of me. “You haven’t been okay in a long time, Holly.”

I let out a humorless laugh that had more self-deprecation than anything else. “Fuck you, Kai!” I snapped, and immediately regretted it. “Shit. I’m sorry. I…”

“It’s okay?—”

“It’s not okay! I don’t know what the hell I’m doing anymore. My head isn’t working right. I’m all over the place. I’m not surprised the Harriers don’t want me. For fuck’s sake, we were dying out there every fucking game.”

Kai didn’t miss a beat. “That’s not all on you.”

That hit me like a punch to the gut. My throat tightened, and before I knew it, the tears came, stinging, hot and fast. I gripped the steering wheel so tight my knuckles were white, and I tried damn hard to keep my voice level. “What else can I do if I’m not even good at that?”

Kai was quiet for the longest time, and then he sighed. “We’ll figure it out, okay? You don’t have to do it alone.” His voice softened further, as if he knew I was unraveling.

“I want to be alone!”

“Holly, shit?—”

I hung up before I could fall apart and admit just how lost I was. I threw the phone onto the passenger seat, ignored his return call, and sat until it was dark before heading home. Kai was my best friend, but although he was the only person I might be tempted to talk to right now, he’d left the team and moved to the middle of nowhere, Vermont.

He’d left me.

Inside my house, I slid down the wall next to the front door and curled into a ball on the floor, my back pressed against the cold wood. The weight of everything came crashing down on me—my entire life unraveling piece by piece—everything so black.Hopeless. I hugged my knees to my chest, trying to keep myself together, but it was useless. The emptiness, the loneliness, consumed me, and I let it for the first time in a long time. There was no one here to see, no one left to judge, so I fell apart in the one place I could, wishing that somehow, in the silence, I’d find the strength to get back up.

My cell vibrated repeatedly; there were some calls from Kai, some other notifications, and the part of me that wasn’t attached to reality stared at the headlines in the sports press and Albany media, each more brutal than the last.

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