Page 94 of Must Love Dogs… and Hockey

“So was I.” He grimaces. “Okay, no, I wasn’t. Coach is an asshole and I knew he was going to do something like this. I’ve been waiting for it.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Nothing. What can I do?”

I tip my head back, eyes closed. “Easton. You can’t go on like this.”

“I have no choice.”

“You always have choices.”

He moves his arm and meets my eyes. “No,” he clips. “I don’t.”

I swallow a sigh and reach out for his hand. I twine my fingers around his. “I hate seeing you miserable. It shouldn’t be like this. And I’m sure you’re not the only one.”

“I’m not,” he acknowledges. “But it’s not going to be me. I can’t be the one who deals with this. I can’t…”

I wait. “What?”

“I can’t take that risk.”

I study him. I look away. I look back. “I understand.”

“No. You don’t.” He pushes up to sitting. The covers fall onto his lap and he’s beautiful, his broad, muscled chest, his rounded deltoids, his handsome face scruffy and fierce.

“I do—”

“You don’t,” he grits out. “You don’t know what I’ve lost.”

I blink, my mouth falling open. Is he talking about the bus crash?

“I know,” I say softly, squeezing his hand again. “But—”

He jerks out of my grasp. His jaw is granite, his eyes flint. “You don’t. I lost everything.Everything. My dad. My brother. My team. My best friends.”

I nod slowly, my throat aching. I lift the hand he just liberated and press it, shaking, to the base of my throat.

“I even lost my mom,” he continues, his voice gritty like sand. “Because she didn’t care enough about me to try to keep going.”

My eyes widen and I flinch. Oh my God. Is that what he thinks?

“I can’t lose hockey,” he grates out.

I stare. My heart thumps.

“They traded me from Vancouver because I was a pain in the ass. I can’t be that here again. I can’t.” He meets my eyes, his blazing. “I can’t lose hockey. It’s all I have.”

I’m frozen, an ice sculpture. I can’t move. Shards of ice splinter in my chest. I swallow thickly. I’m not sure if my voice will come out if I try to speak. I swallow again, feeling it all the way in my chest. My voice emerges as a whisper. “You have me.”

Chapter 19

Easton

I’m pissed. I know that. I’m furious at Coach and right now, I’m furious at Lilly. Because she’s so optimistic and sweet and positive about life that she thinks I can do something about this. And I can’t.

She keeps saying she understands, but she doesn’t. She doesn’t know how scared I am. And I can’t tell her that, because fuck me, being this scared is weak. I can be furious, but I can’t be scared.

And Idon’thave her. We both knew that this wasn’t going to be a serious relationship. Neither of us wanted that. And this is why. I don’t catch feelings for people because I know they’re going to be taken away from me eventually.

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