Page 140 of Right Man, Right Time
To her credit, she backs away slowly and then turns around to leave. Instead of my eyes falling to her retreating ass like they used to when we were dating, I go back to my foam roller, feeling Posey’s eyes on me.
“Don’t, man,” I say, swallowing hard.
“I won’t,” he replies, understanding completely.
“And please . . . please don’t say anything to anyone.”
He grips my shoulder. “Your secret is safe with me, man. Promise.”
* * *
Second game done.We brought home the win, and luckily, despite my personal life, I was able to forget it all when I was out on the ice. Scored a goal and had an assist. I’ve been known to bring my personal grievances into a game, but I just felt numb this go-around.
So fucking numb.
Like nothing from the outside world could penetrate me. Nothing.
Not Sarah.
Not Ollie.
Nothing.
But now that I’m driving home, all I can think about is how I want to see Ollie. How I want to talk to her about . . . everything. I want to know where her head is at. And I know I won’t be able to get any sleep if I don’t talk to her.
I drive over to her dorm, and instead of going up to her place, I park my car and grab my phone to shoot her a text.
Silas:Hey, I’m outside your place.
I let out a long sigh as I squeeze my eyes shut, wondering how the fuck I got here.
The plan I laid out for myself two years ago didn’t have me sitting in a college dorm parking lot, pining after a girl I know I shouldn’t while dodging my ex. My plan was to marry Sarah. To have kids. To buy a house and win some more goddamn championships. But for the past two years, it’s felt as though nothing fits. As though I’ve been drifting. Yes, I know Sarah’s infidelity has played a large part of that, but I should be fucking over it by now. And I am. Over Sarah. Even though I still feel angry.Does that ever go away?But now with Ollie in my life, it feels as though I’m almost grasping something really good, yet things are also falling apart, and there’s nothing I can do about it. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I just don’t understand it.
My phone dings with a response.
Ollie:I’m not there. Ross and I took off for the weekend.
What?
Fuck.
Silas:When do you get home?
Ollie:Late Sunday.
I rub my hand over my forehead and swear under my breath.
Silas:We leave for some away games on Sunday.
Ollie:Oh. Okay . . . well, do you need me?
Yes.
I need you here, so I can speak to you in person, so I can work out these tumultuous feelings buzzing inside me.
Silas:No, I guess not.
Ollie:Cool. Well good luck on the away trip.
