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Even if it’s just for a little while. But drinking myself into oblivion, surrounded by puck bunnies yet again, isn’t the answer. I haven’t touched any of them, and I’ve pushed every hand away that made a grab for me. They’re not who I want.
Coach sighs, giving me one last warning look before turning away. I drop my head in my hands, dragging in a shaky breath. Just get through practice. Then I can… I don’t fucking know. Go home—to my own house—and… stare at the walls like I’ve done for the past week. Living my best fucking life.
Sawyer slides onto the bench beside me, concern etching lines in his face. “Hey, you doing okay?” I shrug him off. The last thing I need is his pity. But Sawyer persists. “Talk to me, Mickey. What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” My jaw clenches as I glare at the ice. At the players darting across it, their blades carve lines through the smooth surface, anything to avoid looking at Sawyer.
“It’s not nothing.” His voice hardens. “You’ve been off for a fucking week now. The guys are worried about you.”
The guys can mind their own damn business. I curl my hands into fists, rage simmering beneath my skin. Then Soren joins us, settling on my other side. I stiffen as his thigh presses against mine, warm and solid. Familiar.
Familiar… family… baby… nope, I can’t fucking cope with this.
“How’s it going?” Soren’s tone is casual, but there’s a weight to his words I can’t miss.
I know he’s fucked up about all of it as well, he just hides it a lot better than I do. Maybe I should ask him for tips so I don’t end up getting benched.
Sawyer sighs. “He won’t talk to me.”
“Is that right?” Soren’s gaze bores into me, but I keep my eyes forward. “Well, when you’re ready to talk, we’re here.”
“Speak for yourself,” I bite out.
Soren’s jaw clenches, a flash of hurt in his eyes, but it’s gone in an instant. “Alright, be like that. But this attitude of yours is getting tiresome, Mickey. We’re your friends—”
“Some friends you turned out to be.” The words burst from me in a growl. Rage boils in my chest, spilling over at last.
The anger at Soren is misplaced, I know that. But I can’t stop it from slipping out when he’s acting like everything is fine, making me feel like I’m the only one going through this shit.
Soren stiffens, eyes flashing with anger. “Watch your fucking mouth.”
“Or what?” I step into his space, jaw clenched. “You’ll hit me? Go ahead. Maybe it’ll make us even.”
Soren shoves me back, hard enough to make me stumble. “You need to chill the fuck out.”
“Yeah?” I straighten, rage burning through my veins. “Then do something about it.”
Sawyer steps between us, hands raised. “Whoa, hey, let’s all just calm down.”
I sneer at him. “Stay out of this.”
“I can’t do that.” Sawyer looks from me to Soren, brow creased with concern. “Come on, guys. We’re teammates. Friends. Whatever issues you have with each other, we can work through them.”
“Some friendships aren’t meant to last,” I say coldly.
Soren snorts. “You seem pretty determined to burn bridges, Mickey. But go ahead. Be my guest. When you come to your senses and realize you’re making a mistake, the door will be open.”
“Don’t hold your breath.”
“Give us a minute, Sawyer,” Soren demands, his eyes never leaving mine. “I need to talk to Mickey.”
Our friend looks between us, his brows furrowing like he’s trying to work out the likelihood of us getting into a fight if he isn’t here to stop us. “You don’t need to babysit us,” I spit.
Once Sawyer is back on the ice, Soren turns toward me. “What’s up your ass?”
“Why doesn’t it bother you?” I ask at the same time. “How can you just go on like nothing’s wrong?”
Soren lets out a hollow laugh. “Get your fucking head out of your ass.”
