Page 22 of Captured Love

He's right, of course. He's always right. That's what makes him such a damn good coach, and why I've respected him even when he's talking to me like this.

“I'll get it together,” I say.

“You better,” he says, then pauses. “Take the rest of practice off. Cool down.”

I open my mouth to argue but think better of it. He's giving me an out, a chance to reset before I do any more damage.

“Thanks, Coach,” I say, though the words taste bitter. I slip my helmet back on and skate toward the locker room. There’s a bit of pain in my chest as I listen to the sounds of my team fading behind me. A part of me wants to turn around, apologize to the rookie, and jump back into the scrimmage. I know I can prove that I'm still the player they need me to be. But I know it would be useless right now. My head's too fucked.

In the locker room, I peel off my gear slowly, deliberately, trying to stretch the time. The cold air stings my sweat-drenched skin as I sit on the bench. I take out my phone to scroll through messages. There's one from Mom asking how practice went. I put the phone down without answering.

I sit back and close my eyes, enjoying the silence of the empty locker room. This used to be where I could put my head on straight before and after practice and games. Now it just feels like everything else.

I sigh and look at my phone again. Mom’s message stares back at me, and guilt gnaws at my gut. I swipe to open it, because I shouldn’t have ignored it to begin with.

Mom: Knox, hope you're doing okay. How was practice? Don’t forget to check in on your sister and let me know when you’re coming home for the birthday party in a few weeks. Love, Mom.

I smile at my mom signing off her text message. It’s something she does on purpose to annoy me.

Me: Practice was fine and I'll text Willow later. Will also let you know about when I’ll be home when I know for sure.

Only the former is a lie.

I should check in on Willow, but she’s doing her own thing, as always. Not to mention, she's made it clear that she doesn't want my interference in her life at Crestwood, and I've respected that. Mostly. But just because she doesn’t want me hovering doesn’t mean I shouldn’t check on her.

I stand and head to the showers, letting the hot water pound against my sore muscles. I will say, it feels good not having tocompete with the other guys for the shower, although the reason for this is something I don’t prefer.

The heat seeps into my bones, and for a moment, I let myself relax. I think about the party Mom’s planning for my abuela, affectionately known as Mamita. She’ll be ninety and is still as feisty as ever. The thought of being around family makes me feel a little better, and the change of scenery might do me some good.

I finish up and get dressed before stuffing my gear into my duffel. I sling it over my shoulder and make my way out to the parking lot without saying a word to another soul.

That was probably for the best.

I toss my hockey gear into the back of my car and slide into the driver's seat. I sit for a moment, staring at the steering wheel, unsure of where to go. Home is close, but the thought of sitting alone in my house, with nothing but my thoughts to keep me company, is suffocating.

However, it’s not like at least someone wouldn’t be home soon anyway. Practice is almost over, and as far as I know, Coach had no plans of going over the allotted time.

Shoot, maybe I should just go home and take a nap. That would fix everything right?

With that in mind, I start my car and pull out of my parking spot. The ride home is quick and easy as usual, and as I’m stepping out of my car, my phone rings. A quick glance down at the screen shows it’s my little sister, Willow.

She’s calling me? What the?—?

“Hey,” I say as I’m locking my car door behind me. “I didn’t think you still had my number.”

“Very funny,” Willow shoots back, but I can hear the smirk in her voice. “I called because Mom asked me too.”

“Well that makes me feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside.”

“You could have also called me too, bro.”

I sigh. “I was planning on sending you a text later.”

“Cause Mom told you to.”

I open the front door and quickly close it behind me. “Yep.”

“Well, why don’t we make Mom happy and grab lunch sometime this week? Take a photo and send it to her so she has proof that we can actually stand each other.”

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