Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 80102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
13
Rainn
Whit doesn’t reply to my birthday text, only cementing that kissing him was the wrong thing to do.
He’s avoiding me now, and I don’t like it. Not only because I fear I’ve fucked everything up, but because … because reasons.
How much I liked kissing him is the main one.
I liked it a hell of a lot.
But that doesn’t matter in the big scheme of things because we’re in different places.
I think he’s been putting way too much pressure on himself, and no matter how hard I try to help, I go and fuck things up more.
What we have—our friendship—I need to fix. So I get out my googling fingers. I may not have a lot of money to buy Whit a birthday present, but I can give him something better.
Only, I don’t take into account that he won’t make his typical weekend appearance at V and V. I checked his schedule online and saw he was at an away game on Saturday. I figured he’d do his usual thing and show up on Sunday night.
I spend my entire shift watching the door, much like I did those first couple of weeks he started to come see me.
If he spent the weekend with his family for his birthday and was busy, he’d at least text me to say he wasn’t coming. No, this is very much him avoiding me because I made it weird between us.
I need to see him, but I don’t know how. Well, technically, I know exactly where to find him during the week, but going to him would demand a visit to a place I’ve avoided for almost four years.
My newly found friendship with Whit means a lot to me, but that much? I mull it over for a couple days, and when my night off arrives, I make a decision.
I grab Whit’s present and force myself out of my apartment. And then I start walking.
Numerous times, I change my mind, and I must look like an idiot pacing the sidewalk.
Fuck it.
I charge toward campus. It’s about two miles from my place, so not far, but I take the long route because I’m still not sure if I can go through with this.
My left leg aches the way it did right after it was injured. Rubbing doesn’t help the pain, because it’s all in my head.
Living so close to the place I’d suffered my life’s biggest failure kinda sucks. But I never could bring myself to leave Burlington.
I’ve always had thoughts of going back. Of finishing my degree. I just haven’t gotten there yet.
If I’m honest with myself, I’m not sure I could handle it.
But here I am, at least setting foot on campus again.
For Whit.
I can’t ignore the big-ass revelation that I might have feelings for Whit that aren’t strictly platonic anymore. Not after this. Really, I probably shouldn’t have been able to ignore it after I kissed him, but the denial over that was easier to swallow than coming back here.
I have to see him so I can make things right with him, even if that means facing the ultimate failure in my life.
When I get to the hockey facilities, I almost turn around and go back home again. But the thought of Whit keeps me moving through the familiar doors, down the hall that infuses my senses with scents, sights, and sounds I’d once known as well as my own body. Muscle memory kicks in, and my feet take me right to Coach’s office.
His face lights up when he sees me, and he leans back in his big chair behind his desk. “Rainn Richardson.”
“Coach Keller.”
He stands to shake my hand. “You’re not one of my players anymore. You can call me Bart.”
“Yeah, that’s so not going to happen.”
He laughs. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
We take our seats, and fuck, it feels like four years ago when we’d have meetings in this very office to discuss my future. Or lack thereof in my senior year.
“I’m actually here to see one of your players.”
“I think I would’ve been told if you were scouting for an agent or team.”
“No, no. Nothing like that. I’m a bartender now.”
Coach’s face falls. “You’re what?”
I huff. “A bartender. I’m living up to my utmost potential as you would put it.”
“Please tell me it’s until you get your degree or … is that why you’re here? Are you coming back?”
“Nope. I have a birthday present for Leighton Whitaker to drop off, and then I’ll be on my way.”
A frown line forms on Coach Keller’s forehead. I remember the expression well. There’s nothing more shattering than seeing the disappointment on his face. Even if he’s being polite and trying to hide it.
“Are you still skating?”
It’s not that I’m not allowed. The doctors said my leg would handle it. But I haven’t ventured onto the ice because it hurts that I’ll never be as good as I once was no matter how much training I put in. My leg is weaker and always will be.