Page 9 of Interference
I mean, we have had sex since, and it’s always been with a condom, but he knows I didn’t that one night. He mentioned it.
He didn’t seem mad. He cuddled me until the morning, then kissed me goodbye as he ran off to his place to change for practice.
I need to tell him, don’t I?
He would want to know. At least I think he would.
What if he wants me to terminate the pregnancy?
A shiver runs down my spine at the thought.
That’s not an option. I don’t think I realized I had made my decision until that very thought.
I am keeping this baby.
I can’t hide it from him for nine months, so he will find out at some point.
Jesus, I don’t even have nine months, more like seven.
He should find out from me, though.
“Yeah. Great idea,” I tell Ashley as she slips into her room.
I do need to call Brett.
I need to call him and tell him he is going to be a father.
Fuck my life.
This is when it gets to me.
The silence.
When I’m in my room alone at night with nothing but my thoughts to keep me company.
Sometimes I replay the injury. Sometimes it’s something I did in my teens or as a kid that makes me cringe. Most of the time, it’s the loneliness.
Kellan and Cora went to their room an hour ago. They are upstairs in Clay’s old room, reminding me once again that things aren’t the same. I shouldn’t cling to that so much, but for those first three years of college, everything was perfect. Even the fourth year was going well up to my injury.
Coach was lucky enough to get me a medical redshirt so I could play this year, but now I’m not sure I want to. Our first game is in a couple weeks, and I’m still not ready. I don’t know if I ever will be.
Everyone keeps telling me I’m scared, but they are wrong. They think I’m scared to get hurt again. That’s not the truth, though. Getting hurt is part of the game. I get that.
No, I am scared that I will get on that ice again and it won’t feel the same. Hockey was always my comfort. I had my boys around me. I finally found my family.
My family is scattered now, and I’m left here feeling like life stood still for me while they all moved on.
That’s what I’m scared of. Not losing the game. Not hurting myself.
I’m scared that the family I built will never feel the same.
Everyone always leaves.
It’s something my father said to me when I was a kid. I cried because he was leaving on a business trip and wouldn’t take me with him. He wanted me to grow and be a man.
I was six.
Now I’m twenty-two, and I have no idea what to do with my life. I don’t want to take over the family business, not that my father would let me.
