Page 73 of Boards & Betrayal

I wound up for a slapshot, feeling the tension build in my muscles before releasing it in one powerful motion. The puck flew across the ice, a black blur against the white surface. It slammed into the back of the empty net with a satisfying thud.

Again.

I set up another puck and repeated the motion. Each slapshot was an outlet for frustration, each thud a temporary balm for deeper wounds. My knee protested with every stride, but I didn't care. This was my sanctuary, where pain could be channeled into something tangible.

The sound of each shot echoed in the empty rink, a symphony of isolation and rage. My breaths came heavy and labored as I continued to skate and shoot, losing myself in the rhythm of it all.

Eventually, exhaustion began to set in, but I kept going. The anger hadn't fully dissipated; it still churned beneath the surface, demanding release. But for now, this was enough—a way to feel something other than helplessness.

Each shot carried with it a piece of my turmoil—anger at Nick's betrayal, frustration over Ally's bruise, regret for things left unsaid and undone. But as long as I had this ice and these pucks, I had an outlet—a way to keep moving forward despite it all.

The sound of the puck hitting the back of the net reverberated in the empty rink, a harsh reminder of a career that never was. Each slapshot took me back to a time when my life revolved around the promise of greatness. I rememberedthe smell of sweat and ice, the adrenaline rush before a game, and the intoxicating feeling of being on the brink of something extraordinary.

But then came Janet's news—the pregnancy. My dreams had collided with reality in an instant. The weight of responsibility crushed me, anger and frustration bubbling to the surface. I wasn't ready for that kind of life change. I wasn't ready to let go of my dreams.

The anger was overwhelming. It clouded my judgment, pushing me to train harder than ever, as if I could outskate my fate. One wrong move during an intense practice session was all it took—a sharp twist, a sickening pop, and my knee gave out. The pain was immediate and excruciating, but it was nothing compared to the realization that followed.

I had pushed too hard, trying to outrun the inevitable, and instead had run straight into it. My knee was shattered before I ever had a chance to see what I could become.

I stopped at center ice again, leaning on my stick as those memories flooded back. The dreams I had chased so fiercely were now just fragments of a past life. A career that almost was, now buried beneath layers of regret and what-ifs.

Each thud of the puck hitting the net brought me back to reality. My breathing steadied as I stared down at the ice beneath me. This rink had become both paradise and prison—a place where I could confront my demons but never fully escape them.

I thought about Janet then—how her words had been the catalyst for everything that followed. The announcement that changed our lives forever, setting off a chain reaction that led me here. The anger I felt toward her at that moment seemed so distant now, replaced by a lingering sense of loss.

The rink remained silent as I gathered up the remaining pucks, each one feeling heavier than before. The weightof missed opportunities and broken dreams settled on my shoulders as I skated off the ice, leaving behind the echoes of a career that never was.

My knee twinged with each step back to the locker room, but it was nothing compared to the ache in my chest—the ache of a life defined by what could have been.

I dropped onto the bench, my body aching but my mind still racing. The anger was there, but muted now, a dull roar instead of a raging inferno. The ice had done its job, taking the edge off my frustration.

But as I sat there, the questions started to creep back in. Why didn’t Ally trust me? What more did I have to do to prove myself to her? It gnawed at me, the uncertainty and confusion.

I knew it had to do with Nick. It always came back to Nick. Janet wouldn’t have had the balls to show up in my office if it wasn’t something serious. Her smug face flashed in my mind, her words dripping with insinuation. She knew something, and it was driving me insane not knowing what it was.

What was Ally hiding?

Why wouldn’t she let me in?

She claimed it was to protect me, but that was bullshit, and we both knew it. Protect me from what? From who? The secrecy only added fuel to the fire of my frustration. Every time I thought we were getting somewhere, she’d pull back, retreat into herself. It was like trying to hold water in my hands—impossible.

I ran a hand through my hair, feeling the sweat starting to cool on my skin. Ally’s face lingered in my mind’s eye—those expressive blue eyes that held so much but revealed so little. The bruise on her face haunted me, a bitch of a reminder of everything I couldn’t control or fix.

If she would just talk to me, maybe we could find a way through this mess together. But instead, she built walls higher and thicker than any I’d ever seen.

I slammed my fist against the bench beside me; the wood giving a satisfying thud under the impact. It wasn’t enough to break anything except maybe a few splinters free, but it felt good. It felt real.

Breathing heavily, I leaned back against the cold metal lockers behind me. This wasn’t just about Ally or Nick or even Janet—it was about control. My need for it and my utter lack of it in this situation.

My thoughts circled back to Ally again and again like a bad loop on an old tape player. She was hiding something significant—something that tied all these loose threads together—and until she trusted me enough to share it, we’d be stuck here in this maddening limbo.

What did she think would happen if she let me in? That I’d run away? Give up?

She didn’t know me very well, if that was what she believed.

I sighed deeply, letting the tension drain out of me as best as I could manage for now. The answers weren’t here on this bench or even on this ice—they were with Ally.

And until she decided to share them with me, all I could do was wait and hope that whatever she was protecting us from wasn’t already tearing us apart at the seams.

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