Page 75 of The Triple Play

Chapter27

Xavi

“Fuck off,” I snapped, my body heavy, my eyes dry and scratchy, my anger peaking. “Don’t try to tell me how to cope with this.”

Cole leaned back against the kitchen counter, his arms crossed over his black long-sleeve, his jaw flexing like he was biting back what he wanted to say. “You’re not the only one she’s ghosted, Xav. You think we don’t care? You think we’re just okay with her dropping off the face of the earth?”

“She just wanted time to think,” Colton said, his voice low and soft for once, not a hint of jokiness or false happiness. He dropped his keys on the counter as he rounded the kitchen island. “We’re all trying to give her that.”

“It’s been almost three weeks!” I shot back, sharp and angry andbitter.

“We know.” Cole swallowed and glanced across at Colton, his gaze looking for something,anything. “We can’t assume that three weeks is enough. None of us have been in her position.”

“He’s right.”

“It’s enough. It’s enough, and she’s probably made her decision, and it’s probably not us,” I said, the words leaving my mouth before they really hit home for me. My throat closed abruptly, feeling like a goddamn hockey puck was stuck in it, and I moved, ripping the fridge open. Cold air flooded my face, but it didn’t do a thing to cool me down. My hand found the box of the eighteen-pack I’d half emptied yesterday. I yanked out a can.

Cole’s footsteps were heavy against the tile floor before he stepped in front of me, slamming the fridge door and putting his hand on top of the pull tab of the Stella. “You really want to do this again?”

I didn’t answer. Just stared at him, too tired and fed up to deal with this, and waited for him to move.

“You’re hungover from yesterday and you’re reaching for one like it’s water,” he added, his eyes narrowing.

“I’m not hungover,” I lied.

“You think we didn’t hear you coming out here last night and cracking one open over and over?” Colton said from somewhere behind me. “I could hear you throwing up last night. The wall between your bathroom and my bedroom isthin.”

“And I know it wasn’t just last night.” Cole’s jaw worked as he tightened his grip on the top of the can. “Did you honestly think we wouldn’t notice?”

“Back off,” I clipped, pulling on the can, but he didn’t let it go. “Cole?—”

“No. You’re drinking yourself sideways every night, Xav. You put whiskey in your fucking coffee three days ago. I couldsmellit.” He pulled back, but I was too tired to fight it, and the can easily slipped out of my fingers. Shame crept in that he’d caught that, my cheeks and ears burning, and I wanted to shut it down and lie and say that it hadn’t happened. But I couldn’t.

“I didn’t sleep,” I said instead, as if it was at all a good excuse.

“You smell like Smokey’s every time you pass me,” Colton added, his voice a little harsher now. “You’ve been late to morning skate more times than I can count, and you picked uphow manyminutes in penalties last game?”

I turned to him, wanting to shut it down but wanting to fight. This wasn’tfair— they were treating me like a child for trying to cope with something they clearly found easy. “So I get chippy. I take a couple of stupid penalties and suddenly, I’m an alcoholic?”

“It’s notjustchippy, Xav,” Cole said, pulling open the fridge and putting the beer back. “Coach already gave you a dressing down. If you cross-check a guy after the whistle again, you’re looking at a fucking suspension. Do you genuinely want to tank the season over this?”

I pressed the butt of my palms against my eyes, my face burning, my chest aching. “You think I don’t know I’m blowing it?” My voice cracked on the too-loud words, and I tried to hide it, tried to hide the rising tide of anger and grief and all-encompassing hurt that I desperately needed to numb. “Do you think I don’t feel it when my legs are ten seconds behind my brain every time I hit the ice? I don’t… I don’twantto feel like that, likethis, but all I can fucking see is her face and all I can do is think about her and I can’t, I can’t, I can’t?—”

Colton stepped around the counter with a mumbledshitand Cole took a step toward me, the anger draining out of his face for a moment.

“You’ve got to get your shit together, foryou,” Colton said, his voice a little gentler.

I let out a rough, humorless laugh. “Right. I need to sit here and pretend like I’m fine. That’ll go so well.”

“That’s not what we’re saying.” Cole put a hand on my shoulder, and I tried to shrug it off, but he wouldn’t let me. “We know that wouldn’t help, but neither is drinking yourself stupid. You’re spiraling, Xav. We’re just trying to keep you from cracking your head open when you hit the bottom.”

“Maybe I need to hit it,” I rasped. “Maybe that’s the only way I’ll actually come to terms with this.”

Colton grabbed my arm, pulling gently, trying to bring me in for a hug that I couldn’t handle right now. “Xavi?—”

I yanked free from both of them. “I can’t just sit and wait,” I mumbled, pushing my hand through my hair, gripping it, needing to feelsomething.

“Then what?” Colton asked, following me as I started to move out of the kitchen. “You just gonna drink yourself into a coma while we wait?”

---