“I didn’t want to talk about it.” I don’t want to be treated like I’m fragile.
A wide hand greets me.
Spoiler alert. You are fragile.
“Fuck you, Roman.
His jaw trembles.
“I’m going to let that one go tonight.
“I didn’t tell you the story of my shitty life so you could throw it in my face. Roman has not only been a coach, he has been a mentor. You know my childhood was a disaster. He knows about Jenny. And he knows that I’m an anxious control freak and that those character traits are the reason I continue to get into the net every night.
I crave the control the position offers me. It calms me down. I can’t blame anyone but myself when a shot goes wrong, which I know isn’t true, but that’s how I see it.
“I’m not holding your past over you, Jasper. It is I, as your friend, who is worried. However, as your coach… It pisses me off that you didn’t reveal this. What the hell were you thinking, keeping this a secret?
I sigh shakily, exhaustion seeping through the corners of my eyes. It smells like sweat and rubber in here, and all I want is to be in the safety of my car, sitting next to a girl who wears my shirt and smells like coconut. I’m sorry. I’ll clear my head before the next game. I promise.
Now his eyes are sad and he shakes his head at me.
“Jasper, you need to take some time. It is normal that it takes some time.
I wrinkle my nose at his suggestion.
It’s normal to take some time when there has been a death in the family. Beau is not dead.
Pity. It’s written clearly on my coach’s face. And I hate being pitied.
“It’s not, Roman. And I’m not going to start acting like it is until I know something. Panic seeps into my voice. I sound frantic even to myself. I imagine what I sound like to him.
Jasper…
-No. I will be here tomorrow to train and I will be ready to play the next game. I’ll be fine as rain. With your head in the game.
The way he shakes his head tells me he doesn’t believe me.
“Stop looking at me like I’m a dead deer on the side of the road that you’re sad about.
“You’re going to take some time off, Jasper. I know you. I know how your head works. And I know how close and dear your family is to you. Damon was right, family first. Hockey second.
-I dont need…
“You’re suspended,” he says.
My whole body stiffens.
“Repeat it?”
A two-week suspension for not disclosing this to management. We’ll call it a leave of absence in the press release.
-You got to be kidding. The team needs me! The press is going to have fun with this!
The older man just gives me a big hug, ignoring my arguments.
“Your family needs you more,” is what he grumbles as he gives me a strong squeeze. And then he pulls away, giving me another one of those tragic looks. The press is already having a field day with you. Hockey will still be here in two weeks. Your head is not in the ice, and it shouldn’t be. Stay in contact.
And then he leaves, his dress shoes clicking against the cement floor, as if it were a normal day. As if the world wasn’t complete and utter shit.
As if one of the best people I’ve ever known hadn’t disappeared into some secret corner of the world, on some classified mission, where God-knows-what happened to him.
The reality of the situation hits me like a wrecking ball in the chest. What if he’s dead?
What if you need help?
And the worst possibility of all, what if we never find it?
Ready to get away from it all, I walk out the door and into the hallway. That’s where fans wait to get autographs signed and those who want to see a player.
But there’s only one person waiting that I want to see.
The beautiful girl who wears my shirt and makes me feel at home. The one who has barely been separated from me for more than a week. We both know he’s hiding from the reality of his life, but I do it too.
Everyone ignores me as I walk towards her. I don’t know who is there or what people are saying. I have tunnel vision and all I see is Sloane.
I am grumpy and miserable. The world is dark, but she is like the moon when we sit on the roof. Bright and pure, shedding a silver light over everything so I can still see where I’m going.
His arms wrap around my waist, the look he gives me is one of pure love and support, and then his head falls to my chest. He comforts me without saying a word. I take a deep breath of her scent and close my eyes to ward off the intrusive thoughts that threaten to engulf me.
Everything in the world feels bad.
But being here with Sloane in my arms feels good.
8
Sloane
Sloane: Just dropping a line to say hello. I hope you got home safely. And to remind you that I love you very much.
Violet: I love you too.
Sloane: Sending you the biggest hugs, Vi.
Violet: It’ll be fine. It has to be, right?
Sloane: Definitely.
Violet: That game was… ugh. Is Jasper okay?
Sloane: No.
Violet: He needs you more than he knows. Don’t leave it. You are his person.
Sloane: I won’t.
The way Jasper holds my hand when we leave the stadium is different.
He feels desperate.
We do not talk. He just holds on to me as if I were a floater and he was stranded in a rough sea. The frigid air bites us as we walk through the parking lot, and I feel ridiculous next to him. I’m wearing ripped jeans with an oversized sweater, and he looks sexy in a suit, complemented by a bearded chin and hair that’s a little longer in the back so that it curls around the back of his neck.
It’s a nice distraction from the phone that’s burning a hole in my bag from the amount of missed calls and texts it houses. I’ve opened it from time to time and then put it away.
The mass text I sent out letting everyone know that I was safe but had decided to leave town sparked a lot of reactions. Everything from Go On Girl, to Grow Up and Face the Music to a totally charming Bring Your Ass Back Home and Stop Embarrassing Yourself by Sterling.
I responded with an overly sweet ‘ fuck you’ and haven’t spoken to him since.
You won’t see me living in that attic again.