Page 102 of Facing the Line

“Nothing. Trying to stay in peak shape for the season.”

It’s not a lie. It’s just not exactly the whole truth. This is the only place I can escape the roaring voices in my head and the ache of missing Hadley.

Evan blinks at me. “Interesting.”

Something about his tone makes me bristle, and my words come out through gritted teeth. “What’s interesting about it?”

He shrugs. “I’m used to the ‘hockey is life’ attitude from Hunter or Mateo. Never seen it from you before.”

I put down my weight and pin him in my gaze. “What are you implying? Because I put the team first all the time. I work out, I watch film, I?—”

“I know.” He claps me on the shoulder, and my ire melts away at the compassion in his eyes. “I know the team means everything to you. But you’ve got to stay balanced, you know?”

I stare at my shoes. This is the sort of pep talk I would’ve given a teammate last year. But I let the team down once, I’m not about to do it again.

“Yeah, okay,” I say, not with any real conviction. Maybe it will get him to change the subject or go away.

Evan clears his throat. “You gonna tell me what happened with Hadley?”

Great. This subject is worse than the first one. I’ve avoided talking to him about this—about anything—for weeks, but I doubt I can put him off any longer.

Glaring, I hop on the treadmill in the corner and run fast enough to deter conversation. But Evan stands there with his arms crossed over his chest, surveying me and waiting for an answer.

“Nothing.” My response comes out a pant. “It’s fine.”

Evan’s stare could burn a hole in my forehead, but I up the pace on the treadmill, pushing until my thighs burn.

“Did you talk to her? Tell her how you feel?” He raises his voice to be heard over the sound of my steps. If I ignore him, he’ll keep asking. I know from previous experience.

“Yes, I did. She doesn’t feel the same way.” I fix my eyes on a spot above his head, not ready to meet his gaze.

“Oh.” His posture deflates. “I’m sorry, man.”

“No big deal. I’m fine, focused on hockey.” I increase the incline on the treadmill, trying to block out this conversation.

“I see that. How’s she doing?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t talk anymore?” He blinks. “I thought she was your best friend.”

“Nope.” I thought so, too. I itch to know how she’s doing. I miss the sound of her laugh, the curve of her smile. I miss hanging out with her and doing something as ordinary as watching TV. But I’m not ready to see her and not be with her.“You should text her. See if she needs anything. You know, for Hunter. He’d want us to watch out for her.”

“Uh-huh. For Hunter.” Evan raises a brow, but his sarcasm isn’t lost on me. He taps the treadmill display. “That’s a pretty tough pace. I get focusing on endurance, but dude, you’re crazy.”

I shake my head, my vision blurring a little at the edges with the motion. “Nah. Gotta push myself. The team needs me at my best this year.”

A wrinkle appears on his forehead between his eyebrows. “Are you sure you’re being healthy about it?”

“What do you mean?” I pant, trying to level out my breaths. I should be able to keep the pace all day, but my muscles ache more with every step.

“I live with you.” He shrugs. “Although I never see you. I’m pretty sure it’s because you’ve been working out constantly.”

“I work out. I also go to class and clinicals. Some of us have a rigorous schedule.”

Evan does not appreciate it when people make fun of him for being a physical education major. There’s always the implication he chose it because it’s easy. It’s not, but most people assume. Most people are assholes.

Do I lean into this to make him mad? Maybe.

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