Page 12 of Bad Wolf

I run my hand through my messy hair and try to shake the feeling of wanting to go to her. Instead, I reach over to the nightstand where my phone is miraculously on charge and thumb into the notes app, opening up the one that’s titled,

Don’t fucking bother.

Don’t bother thinking about her,

she wasn’t thinking about you

when she did what she did.

Don’t ask Dad to look for her.

Don’t mention her.

Don’t dream about her.

Don’t fucking bother loving her,

she doesn’t love you.

I read the words over and over again, repeating them like a mantra in my head, letting the rage scorch through every cell in my body until I’m almost vibrating. Angry at how I’ve let her take hold of my emotions again, and not just this morning.

It’s no lie I have moments where I still can’t believe I’m living this life without her. Couldn’t enjoy the playoffs like I wanted to. I even fucking searched for her in the crowd when I played in my first NHL game.

How messed up is that?

Then, telling my sister how things didn’t feel right last summer.

So. Pathetic.

I’d started to let go of the betrayal and was only remembering the promises we’d made to each other and the life we’d planned together.

The plastic bottle I’m holding crunches as my fists clench.

Someone having this much power over me is insane and I’ll never be so reckless again. Keeping my heart—or what’s left of it—locked up tight, I’ll get to enjoy everything I can without ever having to hand it over.

Quick lays, with beautiful women. No ties, no promises, no expectations. Not even a fucking digit exchanged.

Free and easy. That’s how it’s been since my junior year of college, and that’s how it’ll stay.

That’s how it’s got to be.

Once I’ve simmered in the feelings of treachery and deceit long enough to look at my cousin without wavering, I say, “No. Casey needs us. That’s what’s important. Him and Anna.”

I may scoff at being tied down to one person or giving my heart to another, but there once was a time when I thought I’d have it all.

Didn’t matter I was only a teenager. I’d met my dream girl. I played hockey every chance I got, was popular in school, had an amazing family, and a life that was about to take off.

“They would understand,” he hedges. I detect a plea in there and I know he’s as curious as I am. That she hurt him too, but I hold strong.

And I hold firm. She’s not worth a second of my time.Ourtime.

Not anymore.

Not since she ripped my heart out and fed it to Allen Gale, the biggest dickhead to ever lace up a pair of skates. Not since she took the friendship she had with Troy and stomped all over it like it was nothing.

“No,” I say again. “Just. No.”

I snatch his opened but barely drunk green apple Gatorade, and down that too. Fuck I need some food.

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