Page 22 of Blocked Score

My heart leaps in my chest, and all I can do is kiss her.

Four weeks is enough time to fall in love.

11

LANE

Scarlett leaves tomorrow.

It’s a bittersweet day, and the end of this summer has a sad ache singing in my chest.

It’s been the best one of my life, bar fucking none. At the same time, I’m looking forward to visiting her in her hometown. Bringing her up to Brumehill. Introducing her to Rhys, Maddie, and my other teammates.

Fucking her with my jersey on.

Fuck, I wish I’d brought one of my Black Bears jerseys here with me. The idea’s popped into my head more than once. Way more.

But, hey, nothing wrong with having one extra thing you haven’t done yet to look forward to.

We’re planning on meeting at a café a couple blocks from my place in about an hour. I’m finishing up some work preparing for the training session I’m leading at the hockey camp tomorrow, when my phone buzzes.

SCARLETT

Hey, let’s meet at this place called Jolly Bean up in the Loop. I’m in the area and it’ll be easier.

I shrug and text back,Sure. Then I hop on the train, find the place, and take a seat. And wait.

And wait.

And wait.

I send her a text. It gets marked read, but she doesn’t reply to it. I try to call her, but it just rings until her voicemail picks up. After another text gets marked read with no reply, I start to worry.

When my phone finally buzzes on the surface of the table, my hand snaps to it as fast as if I were reacting to block a slapshot.

For several seconds, all I can do is stare at the message. It’s like my brain is a solid, inert block, the words I’m reading rolling down the side of it like drops of water rather than sinking in.

My eyes dart around the long message, snagging on words and phrases here and there, trying to put it all together in a way that I can comprehend.

They latch onto words likesorry. Phrases likeI just don’t think I’m cut out for a long-distance thing. Sentences likewe should just let the time we had together stay what it was, a fun short-term fling. Bullshit likeI don’t think it’s a good idea for us to see each other again before I leave.

I can’t say just how long it takes for my brain to fully register what just happened. Eventually, I feel a crack starting to form in my chest, pain splintering behind my ribcage.

My thumbs hover over my phone’s keyboard, but I can’t get them to form any words. Instead, I press the call button.

Straight to voicemail.

I call again. Same thing.

The crack in my chest grows, splinters, hurt and frustration and anger and betrayal curling through my body and clogging my throat.

I think about going over to her house, knocking on her door, insisting that we talk about this face to face, but …

Isn’t she right?

It was just a summer fling.

I wanted it to be more; and in the last couple days, that desire’s only grown stronger.

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