AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I stay still while he gathers the few things he has. Not that there’s much. His Titans sweatshirt I wore to the last game, the toothbrush and change of clothes he brought over last night. He tosses everything into his hockey bag by the door and slings it over his shoulder, giving me one last cutting look.
It isn’t until he slams my front door shut behind him that the reality crashes down on me, and the pain echoes through my body like a gunshot. I fall to my knees and cover my face with my hands, keeping the sob suppressed for as long as I can.
There’s some part of me that acknowledges that, up until this month, I hadn’t cried in years. And here I am, tears burning my eyes and refusing to fall, as my relationship crumbles before my eyes.
Knox was right. My relationship with Joel wasn’t strong enough to withstandhim.
If he had just signed the stupid papers, none of this would’ve happened.
After trying to practice slow breathing, the heels of my palms pressed to my eyes, I drop my hands and rise. I cross to my office and open the bottom drawer of my desk. There, in a small box, is the ring that Knox gave me when we were teenagers.
Sixteen and seventeen.
It’s one of those silver Pandora rings, simple and clean and very clearly something a seventeen-year-old could afford with the help of his mother. Not something a professional hockey player would give his girl, like the big diamond that had sat on my finger declaring my engagement to Joel.
There are memories attached to this ring, though. Memories I don’t want to resurface, but I can’t fight it when they come flooding back.
I sit at my desk, the ring now out of its box and next to my typewriter.
The only way to get through this is to write about it. So I pick up where I left off and continue the story of Knox and me.
13
MANUSCRIPT
CHAPTER 2
Knox comes back the following night. He closes the door and tiptoes over. “You awake, Sunny?”
I smile. “Yeah.”
“Good, because you know what tonight is?”
“Um…”
“Midnight,” he prompts, taking a seat at the foot of the bed and revealing a small box. With a cupcake inside. “You’ll officially be sixteen.”
My smile falls. “Kind of sucks that I’m stuck in here.”
“Well, we’re making the most of it. So…” He fishes out a candle and lighter from his jacket pocket, setting all three aside. “For later,” he promises. “But first, your present.”
I sit up, wincing. My chest hurts, but my whole body feels bruised. My throat is raw from being intubated, my voice still a little raspy when I try to speak louder. And my hair has been up in a bun for the past twenty-four hours.
Why am I self-conscious?
Knox presents me with a tiny, wrapped package. I take it like it’s fragile, carefully sliding my fingers under the taped edges and peeling it open with care.
It’s a framed photo of me on the ice, locked arm in arm with my dad. He’s smiling down at me, I’m cheesing at the camera.
It’s from last year’s season. Dad coaches squirts, and I help out.Helped out. Past tense.
We had a conversation today about my heart. About how, given the severity of the hole, intense exercise and impact could put my health at jeopardy. Hit in the right way, at the right time, and my heart could stop. The closure they inserted to close the hole in the wall of my heart, separating the chambers, could fail.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.” I cross my arms.
He nudges my leg. “But…”
