Page 95 of Puck Fest
“And?”
“And that I need to decide what I can live with. Whether this relationship can survive what’s coming.”
“So you decided it can’t.”
“Look at what’s happening! The videos are everywhere. The league’s investigating whether you got special treatment. My father’s being questioned about whether he knew. Marshall’s talking about my future with the organization. Your teammates are going to blame you for the suspension?—“
“I don’t care about any of that!”
“Well, I do. I care that my father is being dragged through this because I couldn’t maintain professional boundaries. I care that you’re suspended for fifteen games during a playoff push. I care that everything I’ve built is falling apart?—“
“So you’re saving yourself.”
“I’m trying to salvage what’s left. For everyone!”
“By ending us.” I let out a sharp laugh. “You know what’s fucked up? Last night you told me you loved me. And now, less than twenty-four hours later, you’re ending it. So which is it, Noah? Do you love me or not?”
“Of course I love you.”
“Then how can you just walk away?”
“Because loving you doesn’t change reality.” His voicecracks. “It doesn’t change the fact that we can’t be together without destroying everything around us. It doesn’t change the fact that every day we stay together makes it worse for you, for me, for my father, for the team?—“
“So you picked them over me.”
“I picked not destroying everyone’s lives,” he yells.
“You picked what was safe. Like you always do.” I head for the door. “You spent weeks and weeks teaching me restraint. Teaching me to think before I act, to consider consequences. And the second it actually mattered, you forgot all of it. You acted out of fear instead of love.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Oh yeah, it is. You were so scared of what might happen that you didn’t even give us a chance to fight through it.” I stop at the door, pressing my hand on the frame before looking back. “I love you, Noah. I told you that last night. And I meant it. But I can’t be with someone who gives up the second things get hard.”
“This isn’t just hard. This is impossible.”
“Only because you decided it was.”
I leave before he can respond. I get in my truck, drive home, and try not to think about the look on his face when I walked out.
I try not to think about the fact that he let me go.
I try not to think about how much it fucking hurts.
By the time I get home, my phone has hundreds of more notifications. More commentary on the statement. More speculation about our relationship.
I turn it off and collapse on the couch in the dark.
The league suspended me for fifteen games. My relationship just ended. My reputation is damaged.
Everything I was afraid would happen is happening.
And Noah’s not here to help me through it.
I’m completely alone.
Three days later, I’m still alone. I can’t bring myself to call myparents or my brother, even though they’ve left tons of messages and voicemails. I can’t face any of them.
And of course, there’s been no word from Noah. No texts. No calls. Nothing.
