Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 84294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
I go to look up, to apologize to him, to say all the things I’ve held back for the past three years, but just like that, he’s gone.
I watch as he clears the last few steps and disappears through the door, leaving me behind just like I had done to him all those years ago.
Taking a shaky breath, I force myself to get in control. My hands shake as I grab my bag from my lap and stand on wobbly legs. Putting one foot in front of the other, I move until I have enough control to run.
I fly through the door and, not stopping to check on Brianna, I crash into my bed, squishing my head into my pillow as the tears begin to consume me. The need to write comes over me, but my hands shake so violently that it’s impossible. Sobs rip from deep in my throat, and before I know it, I’m curled under Brianna’s arms, her soothing words in my ear.
How the hell could I have been so stupid to assume I could avoid him all semester? Sure, I knew there would be an odd occasion where we might end up at the same party or bump into each other on campus. I had prepared myself for that. But this . . . Being in the same class, seeing him all the time, becoming friends with his inner circle . . . I need to be more careful.
Damn it.
Now that I think about it, I should have known. Of course someone with the dream of getting into the NHL would take courses to help his own understanding of human anatomy and its limits. It’s just my luck that those classes are very similar to the ones I’m taking on the road to becoming a physiotherapist. All those times I thought about Jax at college, it was always on the ice or in the gym training. I never thought about the classes he would be taking. Shame on me.
Brianna allows my tears to run their course before she gets the balls to question what happened. She grabs a tissue for me to wipe my eyes, and I gather the strength to finally talk about it.
“I’m so sorry, babe,” she says, latching onto me and holding me just that bit tighter the second I’ve finished getting the words out. “It sounds like what you two had was pretty intense.”
“Yeah,” I whisper, thinking back on those years when we were so deeply in love. “From the moment I met him, we were attached at the hip. We were each other’s world until one day, I . . . I just left. He has every right to be mad at me. Hell, it was three years ago and I’m still mad at me.”
“How do you know he’s mad? Maybe he was just shocked to see you,” she suggests.
“Oh, he was definitely shocked, but I don’t know. I can just tell when it comes to him. He’s mad. Furious, even.”
We both sit in silence as she allows me to catch up with my thoughts and eventually, I fall into a fretful sleep.
I’m awoken a few hours later to the sound of the front door closing, and I sit up and wipe my swollen eyes. I get out of bed and trudge into the bathroom, only to catch sight of myself in the mirror. My eyes are all puffy and red with smudges of mascara all over my face. My chestnut hair looks like some kind of bird’s nest, and my nose is still red and slightly runny.
Gross.
Quickly stripping off, I jump into a relaxing shower. I scrub my hair for good measure, then step out and wrap a towel around my body. Hearing Brianna in the living room, I head out to find her fussing around with food in her gym shorts and tank, making me realize she must have ducked out to the gym not long after I zoned out. “Hungry?” she asks.
I glance over at the clock to see it’s five in the afternoon and realize I haven’t eaten since my cold toast at breakfast. “Starving,” I reply, moving over to the couch and plonking down in my towel.
“Feeling better?” Bri asks, handing me a plate so I can start digging in.
“Yeah, actually,” I say with an apologetic cringe. “Sorry I put you through all that.”
She shrugs off my apology and digs in. “Don’t be stupid. That’s what friends are for. Just know, when your brother breaks my heart, I’ll expect something damn special from you.”
“Oh, jeez,” I laugh, “You better stay away from Carter then because I can guarantee it will most certainly end in heartbreak. He’s a player, through and through.”
“Noted. So . . . I have a bit of a confession,” she says, nervously.
“Yes?” I ask.