Page 92 of Blue Line

I am once again alone.

Story of my fucking life.

How is this fair?

I grab the throw pillow next to me, hold it to my face, and scream into it. I drop it into my lap and take a few deep breaths, but I don’t feel any better.

Maybe if I go back to sleep, I’ll wake up, and this will all have been a nightmare. So that’s what I do. Thankfully, past Wes knew not to make plans with the guys for a workout or skate. At least I’m not letting them down today like I let Hadley down.

Rolling onto my side, I grab the pillow Hadley had been using, pulling it to my chest and hugging it close, willing myself to sleep so I don’t have to think about the last twelve or so hours. It takes me a while, but eventually, I drift off into a restless sleep.

The dinging of a text notification wakes me up. Groaning, I let go of Hadley’s pillow and reach for my glasses and my phone, hoping maybe it’s Hadley texting me. But it’s not.

John: Got proofs of the photos from Slumberly. They look great. Forwarded them to your email. You and Hadley need to review and approve. PowerIce finally reached out. Took them long enough. They’re going to send a few sticks for you to try.

I scrub a hand down my face, rereading his message. I should be more excited about another potential endorsement deal, but I’m not really. I’m sure I will be in the future, but right now, I couldn’t care less.

Me: Thanks. I’ll check out the photos and get back to you. Sounds good about PowerIce. I’ll let you know when they get here.

I should probably look at those photos. But I can’t, not yet. Not when mine and Hadley’s breakup is so fresh. Looking at pictures of us happy, kissing, is just going to make me feel worse.

Regardless, I should get up. My stomach growls as I’m climbing out of bed. I can eat. That seems like a simple enough task.

A few minutes later, I’m rummaging first through the fridge and then the pantry for something to eat, but nothing sounds good. What I wouldn’t give for something sweet right about now.

“A trip to the grocery store it is,” I mutter, shuffling into my room to throw on clothes. I grab my keys and wallet and go out to my Jeep.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m pulling into the parking lot at my local Publix. Inside, I wander around the bakery and finally settle on a carrot cake. Ice cream sounds good too, so I make my way to the freezer section.

“This one sounds good,” I mutter, grabbing a carton of chocolate chip cookie dough. “What else?”

I spot the chocolate peanut butter—Hadley’s favorite—and my heart sinks. Giving myself a shake, I opt for strawberry shortcake before making my way to the checkout.

Outside, instead of heading to my car, I go next door to their liquor store. I’m not a big liquor drinker, but today feels like a day to drink a glass of something strong. I decide on a bottle of Singing Pig because I like the name, hopefully it tastes good, and head to the register.

My phone starts ringing as I’m parking back at my apartment building.

“Sorry, buddy. Not in the mood.” I hit the Ignore button on Sebastian’s call before climbing out of my Jeep. I’d turn the whole thing off, but I don’t want to on the off chance that Hunter calls to say Madison’s in labor, or Madison herself calls needing something, or Hadley calls.

“Probably should figure out how to send everyone else to voicemail right away,” I mutter as I wait for the elevator to ascend to my floor.

When I get to my apartment, I put the ice cream away in the freezer for later, pour myself a glass of whiskey, and grab a fork for the carrot cake before bringing the entire box with me to the couch.

I flip on the television and find a random old western to watch—because the last thing I want to do right now is watch a rom-com—and dig into my treats.

Chapter thirty-six

Wes

I’m slumped on the bench at the arena, regretting my life choices of the past few days as I watch the guys scrimmage on the ice. I tapped out after a few minutes when I thought I was going to throw up.

Eating one’s weight in sweets and sleeping on the couch for two days probably wasn’t the best idea. Especially not when one is a professional hockey player.

I guess at least I’m not hungover. I had all of one glass of the whiskey before realizing it didn’t exactly go with the desserts I was eating. So I switched to water. Although this sugar coma lethargy I’m feeling isn’t helping. All because I ate a carrot cake and most of a tub of ice cream. That’s not that bad over the course of two days. Well, it wouldn’t be if I’d eaten anything else. Which I didn’t until this morning when I forced myself to drink a protein smoothie and eat a bowl of oatmeal. I’d hoped they would help. Clearly, they didn’t.

“Earth to Weston. You alright?” Sutton’s voice comes from behind me.

I rub a hand over my stomach. “Too many sweets.”