Page 123 of The Puckable Playbook

The truth is, I drove the wedge between us, and I wish more than anything that I could fix it. However, as she walks into the room and closes the door softly behind her, she’s out of my reach again.

I grab a granola bar from the cupboard and a bottle of water before taking off. If I know Adam, he’ll be at the gym already.Maybe even with a few other guys on the team who finally woke up when everyone showed to support us. They’re suddenly motivated, realizing that what we’re actually doing here is playing hockey.

Admittedly, I felt that way a few times, too. It’s like that old riddle “If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a noise?” For us, it’s “If we get on the ice and no one cares, are we still playing?”

Do we actually care? Are we motivating ourselves internally?

I like to think I was. Though even now, the fire in my belly is at a different level. Flames that, if I keep on stoking, could make an inferno. For fuck’s sake, if only I’d told her from the beginning that she reignited my desire. That when I saw how much she cared, the ashes turned to embers. The sparks molded like a phoenix, taking shape out of seemingly nowhere, but it started with her.

My mind is so filled with thoughts, I end up at the gym in no time. I stand in front of the squat rack, blinking because I forgot my gear. I ate my granola bar on the way, so all I have for my gym session is a bottle of water save a few swallows and me. No back brace. No lifting gloves. No towel.

The familiar melody of banging plates rings in my ears. Spinning in a circle, I spot the bench, take a seat, and bring the bottle to my lips, taking swallow after swallow until I nearly finish the whole thing.

“James, you asshole. You beat me again.”

Adam swats me on the back and drops his bag next to the rig. When I don’t say anything, he peers over his shoulder. “You good, bro?”

I lift my shoulders, and as Adam does, he turns fully to face me with the look on his face that he’s about to start spewing advice. I swear I’m going to start calling him doc. He acts like he’s the team therapist.

“Can I ask you a question?”

I look away. I’m halfway to spilling my guts to him anyway, so I say, “Sure.”

“You’ve been cagey about Len lately. Every time someone brings her up, you change the subject. I don’t ever see her around either. When we went out, she wasn’t there, and you were acting weird as fuck.”

“Is there a question in there?”

“There is, but it’s a manly question. You have to read between the lines to answer it.”

I flip him off. But the truth is, I don’t need much prodding. “I think I messed up.”

He sighs before pulling another bench next to me and taking a seat. “If you think you did, you probably did.”

I tip my bottle back to take another drink, but it’s empty. I drop it next to me, hearing the crackling of the plastic as it hits and rolls against a twenty-five pound plate.

“She’s mad. Well, she’s not acting mad now, but she called me out after the game, and she hasn’t been the same since. I’m losing her,” I confess, heart lodging in my throat. “When I ask her, she says we’re okay, but I know we’re not. She’s drifted away, and I don’t know how to bring her back. She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Did you tell her?”

I nod. “Literally every day.”

“Have you showed her?”

“Showed her?”

“Let’s start from the beginning,” he says. “What did Len call you out on?”

I shrug like I can’t remember, but the truth is, her words have been swirling around me ever since. Every once in a while, they run through me like a cold wind. They’re the only thing that hasthreatened to take out the inferno inside me. Everything flickers, and it feels like a sucker punch to the gut.

“Come on, dude. You want help, right? I can see it.”

My shoulders slump. “Well, there were several things.” Shuffling my feet, my guilt takes over, and I’m suddenly embarrassed to tell Adam what’s going on. It makes me look like a terrible person and a coward. I blow out a breath. “One, I didn’t thank her for writing the article. Two, I never celebrate her wins. Three, I’ve been…selfish.”

“So, she’s been extremely communicative, then?”

I nod. “It’s a heavy list because I didn’t know I was doing it, but you didn’t let me say the last one. I think four is what broke her.”

“Well?”