Page 54 of Breakaway Daddies

Since I was benched due to my injury, all of the goalie duties have fallen on Bruno and the new guy. Bruno is my reserve though, that’s what he’s there for, but I’ve seen that take its toll on him, and now with Jinx gone, I’m not sure how he’s going to manage on the team at all.

And me?

I feel paralyzed, a statue frozen in time.

What’s the point of making breakfast if she’s not here to roll her eyes at my abysmal attempts at cooking? What’s the purpose of anything in a world where she no longer exists by my side?

I’ve been involved with puck bunnies before, many of them, each an ephemeral distraction. But the thought of returning to that life, of pretending she didn’t turn my world inside out and leave me hollow, makes my stomach churn.

I pull out my phone, my eyes squinting in the cold glare of the screen, and I realize how dark it is in my bedroom without the blinds open.

I stare at our last conversation. The words feel like ghosts, lingering reminders of what once was.

She still hasn’t responded to the texts I sent after she left, and the silence is deafening.

My fingers move almost of their own accord, driven by a deep longing I can’t quite quell.

>> Jinx, please. Just talk to me.

>> I miss you.

>> You don’t have to come back, but don’t shut us out. Just let us know you’re okay!

I watch as each message sends, the little whoosh sound hanging in the air like an echo. The read receipts remain blank, an empty void that offers no solace.

Nothing.

It’s like before, back when I was trying to get her to go out with me and she just sidestepped my attempts, always dancing around a real answer, leaving me in a state of hopeful anticipation.

I run a hand down my face, feeling the roughness of my skin against my palm.

God. I can’t keep doing this.

Feeling desperate, I resort to an action I haven’t dared to take since the entire scandal erupted.

I dial my mom’s number.

My stomach twists itself into an anxious pretzel as the phone rings.

Maybe she won’t answer. Maybe she’s ashamed of me, just like Coach.

But then?—

“Rowan?”

Damn.

“Uh, hey, Ma.” My voice betrays me, cracking like I’m a teenager in trouble again.

There’s a brief silence on the line. “Well, this is a surprise. Is everything okay?”

No. Not even close.

I let out a long breath, my hand moving to rub over my heart as if that could soothe the persistent ache. “I don’t know. Everything’s just awful. Especially since that… news… came out…”

There’s another pause, but this one feels gentler, like the calm after a storm. Then, my mom’s laughter rings out.

“Well, yeah, I bet. Who was that girl? Another groupie?”

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