Page 110 of My Best Bet

“No, I think she’s had enough of those,” my mom snapped, arching a challenging eyebrow at him and then giving me a hard look.

It was a moment of clarity.

Colt had been right about him, too.

Andy didn’t have my best interest in mind.

He had gold in mind, and that’s it.

Over the next couple weeks, Andy and I were in constant petty fights– over what I was eating, over how I was skating, over every little misstep. He became aggressive. The way he’d yell down at me until he was red in the face was not okay. I knew this was his way of dealing with his own nerves, but I was unwilling to be his punching bag, so I yelled right back up to him.

Our coaches had to step between us multiple times, telling us we just had to make the national team, then we could have a mediated sit down and sort everything out. But for the next couple weeks, we had to shut up and work together.

I wanted to call up Colt every day, but I stopped myself. Because I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t back to being myself yet. I was struggling. It took all my brain power just to make it through the day without falling back into the bad habits I developed. So he was right about that too– I needed a minute to focus on justmyself so I could fully recover. I was embarrassed by how far I’d fallen and how long I ignored him about everything. He said he loved me and to call when I was ready. I trusted him.

But now that I was here in this hospital bed, all I wanted was to hear his voice. Nothing else mattered.

My phone was in my skate bag, which was sitting discarded in the corner of the room. I had to call a nurse to get it for me.

As soon as I held my phone, my body sagged in relief. I’d call him and he’d share in this grief with me, just like we’d shared every other emotion with each other over the last four years. He’d reassure me that everything would be okay, just like everyone else around here had been telling me, but when it came from him, maybe I’d actually be able to believe it.

But when I tried to call him, I didn’t even get a dial tone. A loud, high-pitched noise went off on the other end, telling me I was blocked.

My face cracked.What the hell?Pulling my phone away from my ear, I studied it for a minute, wondering if it didn’t have service or something. I turned it off, then back on again before calling again, but the same thing happened.

I tried calling a different number and immediately got a dial tone. So it wasn’t that my phone was broken…

Colt… blocked me?

My stomach sank like a rock.

My mind reeled back to the last time I talked to him, to our fight.

I said terrible, horrible things to him when I was crying that night. That I blamed him, that I hated him, that I never wanted to see him again.

I didn’t mean any of it.

He had to know I didn't mean it.

He said he loved me, but was that before or after I said all of that?

My eyes slammed shut as I tried to sift through that night, but everything was muddled.

Oh God…

No…

This couldn’t be real.

It felt like I was dumped upside down into a different, horrible reality. One where I couldn’t walk for months. One where I couldn’t talk to Colt. I didn’t know which was worse.

Now the tears started for an entirely different reason.

Did I lose him?

Was that it?

Were we really over?

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