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I lean against the locker. Fuck. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve Coach Tommy’s constant critical gaze but it’s really starting to piss me off. Sure, my game was sloppy today, but not enough for this.
“Having an off day, Coach,” I snap back and regret it, giving him a tight smile to make up for the bite in my tone.
Regardless of my feelings about him, he is still my coach. Assistant coach.
I hear the guys scatter behind me and I have to school my face to not roll my eyes in annoyance. Fuck them.
“It’s starting to be more than just one day.” I ignore Tommy’s smug smirk.
“I’m working on it.” Not that I’d expect him to understand. Tommy can act as hard as he wants, but his career never made it off the bench. Those who can’t, coach. Usually the saying doesn’t apply to the professional leagues, but with Tommy it absolutely does.
“Unless you’re trying to be cut, Daniels, I’d say you need to work on it faster.” And with that, he turns away.
My hands clench into fists at my side. Fucking asshole.
I wait until he disappears around the corner to say anything. “I don’t understand him,” I direct to Connor, who stands next to me, slamming my locker harder than necessary. My fingers pulse with the desire to punch something.
Connor shakes his head. “You don’t have to understand him, man. He’s the coach. That’s all you need to know.”
“He’s a fucking prick.”
“Yeah, well.” Connor looks me up and down. “Maybe the words came off wrong, but his intention is right. You looked lost today, man.” He gives me a tight smile before stepping around me and leaving me alone.
Am I lost? I haven’t been playing my best, but I don’t think I’ve been playing my worst either.
I pack up the rest of my gear and go, praying that I can slip away before anyone else has a chance to stop me. I’m done talking today.
I exit the arena, the cold air hitting me like a reality check. No matter what I try to distract myself with, the doubt lingers, a persistent whisper in the recesses of my mind.
Maybe I just need to rewatch some footage of games from this month and reassess what’s happening on the ice, rather than constantly picking apart my life.
I shove my stuff into the back of my car and speed out of the parking lot. As I head home, the familiar roads I usually take seem to stretch on forever. I just want to get home. Is the entire universe out to slow me down?
I turn up the music, desperate to do something that will silence the questions bouncing around in my head. I don’t want to be left alone to ponder whether the pace at which Astrid and I have found each other is a blessing or a challenge that we're unprepared to face.
These aren’t thoughts I can figure out in one day and I hate the fact that Coach and the others put that pressure on me after the perfect day I had yesterday.
By the time I pull into the garage, I’m spent. My limbs are tired and my head hurts. The day unfolded in a way that I never would have expected. And unfortunately, the tension builds within the confines of the house as well.
Astrid’s smile slips away when she sees me.
“Are you okay?” she asks, hesitantly. Her voice sounds softer and more unsure than usual.
“Yeah. I’m okay. Just a rough practice.” It’s an understatement by far, but I can’t find it in myself to explain further.
She nods her head, giving me a quick hug, but she chews her bottom lip as if she wants to say more.
For a moment, I stay still, waiting for her to ask the words I can see written on her face. Is it her, did she upset me.
But I can’t bring myself to answer things she hasn’t said out loud. I’ve done enough damage for one day. That last thing I need to do is comfort her about a concern she doesn’t have, only to give her something new to worry about.
“Are you excited for your first away game?” She shifts uncomfortably before me.
I sigh. I am definitely not. “Yeah…” It’s all I can get out without outright lying to her. I am not looking forward to leaving. Leaving just means that I’ll be away from her, left alone with my new concerns, and stuck with the men who gave them to me.
The air is thick with unspoken words, and the imminent departure of my away game casts a shadow over the once-familiar surroundings.
“Are you nervous for the game?” Astrid presses. Her eyebrows are knit with concern. She’s picking up on my unspoken emotions.
