Outside of hockey, I’ve had zero interaction with Quinton in three weeks.
Three fucking weeks. Twenty-one days.
An obscene number of hours, minutes, and seconds ticking by without knowing where he is or what he’s thinking.
Even with the team still winning despite our superstition coming to an abrupt halt, he’s said nothing. Hasn’t made a joke or jab or so much as looked at me in those three weeks.
He didn’t even say anything the day after our blow out, when I’d left his lucky puck on the wooden shelf in his stall. I watched him pick it up. Turn it over in his hand when he thought I wasn’t looking. I saw the way he swallowed as he squeezed it in his palm before putting it safely in his bag.
The sight tore me apart from the inside out.
Nor did he speak to me after Coach pulled him into his office before the game that same day, giving him back the title of captain, but also letting him know Braxton and I would be reprimanded for our involvement in tampering with his test and resulting suspension.
However, seeing as my role wasn’t nearly as significant as Braxton’s, I was let off fairly easily. A hearing with some committee put together by the university, which nothing came of. After all, an idea is just an idea until it’s put into action, and since I didn’t participate in messing with the test, they threw out the case pretty soon after.
Braxton, however, is no longer a member of Leighton University’s hockey program. He was suspended at first, but soon after, he was booted altogether. Once that happened, it didn’t take long for him to move out, letting the rest of us know he was transferring to another school for next year. Just as well, though. No one—on the team or at home—trusted him after hearing about what he did.
Hell, everyone is just now starting to trust me again.
Too bad the only person whose trust I actually want won’t even look at me.
If it weren’t for practice and games, being able to see his face and hear his voice, I think I’d have gone crazy by now. Even with those few moments, I still feel my sanity slipping. This silence is deafening, echoing through the gaping hole in my chest that only grows every day we don’t speak.
Today, it’s been unbearable. To the point where I do the one thing I swore I wouldn’t do, not only to myself, but to Cam, Holden, and Theo the night everything blew up.
I go to him.
And as I knock on his door, a mixture of anticipation and anxiety rip me to shreds. Gripping and pulling me in opposite directions; between what I know I should do, and what my heart is aching for.
I just need to see him.
Outside of practice.
There, he’s expected to be put together and on point with every move he makes. Zeroed in with focus, feelings and emotions flicked to autopilot.
No, I need to see him without the pads and skates he wears like an impenetrable suit of armor.
I need to know he’s okay.
Too bad for me, Quinn isn’t the one who answers the door a couple seconds later. Hayes does. And from the frown marring his face, he’s not happy I’m here.
“Get lost, jackass. He doesn’t wanna see you.”
“Hayes—” I start, but he’s already shut the door halfway on my face.
Shit, shit, shit.
“I don’t wanna hear it either, Reed,” he says, the door already swinging closed.
My hand darts out, stopping it before all hope I have of talking to Quinn disappears. “Please, Hayes. Let me talk to him. I need to see him, if it’s only for a minute. I need to tell him—”
The door is suddenly ripped back open, leaving me off-balance to the point where I almost topple through the doorway and into the person on the other side.
And when I catch my balance enough to look up, I’m surprised to find it’s Quinn.
My heart lurches at the sight of him, pounding against my chest with an unbearable ache. One that’s been ever-present since the moment he walked out of my room—and life—weeks ago. And the ache grows into an agonizing throb as Quinn’s icy blue gaze lands on me, only for me to find his eyes completely vacant.
No ounce of emotion in them at the sight of me.
His attention shifts away, falling on Hayes instead. “Thanks, man, but you don’t have to.”
“You sure, Q?” Hayes eyes me dubiously before looking back to Quinn. “I don’t mind kicking his ass all the way back to his place.”
He lets out a soft sigh and nods. “Yeah. It’s fine. I’ll take care of it.”
As happy as I am to get to speak to him privately—which didn’t look to be the case a minute ago when Hayes answered—I can’t help but cringe internally at his word choice.
It.
Like I’m nothing more than a pile of trash that needs to be taken out, or a piece of gum to be scraped off the bottom of a shoe.
Then again, that’s exactly what I feel like, so if the shoe fits, I guess I’ll wear it.
Hayes leaves us, shuffling back into the apartment, but not without giving me a death glare first. One I’m willing to admit I deserve.
It’s only once Quinton and I are finally left alone for the first time in weeks when he meets my gaze and speaks.
“What are you doing here, Oakley?”
I shake my head, because now that I’ve finally gotten a moment to speak to him, I’m not sure what to say. Not sure where to start. “I…don’t know.”
His brow arches, and he crosses his arms over his chest. “You’re really gonna keep lying to me?”
Fair point.
I wouldn’t blame him for not believing a thing to come out of my mouth ever again, so I might as well go all in with the truth. I’ve got nothing left to lose.
“I guess I was just worried.”
“Why?”
“Because I saw you at practice today.”
“You see me at practice every day,” he counters.
“Yeah, but today was different. You were on autopilot and—”
He scoffs. “And you’re worried it would translate into the games we’ve got coming up. Well, don’t worry your pretty little head on it, Reed. I’ll make sure I’m fully present when the time comes so you can win your stupid championship.”
The way he calls me by my last name might as well be a knife to the heart, but not nearly as much as the accusation he’s tossing at me.
“What? The championship? That’s the furthest thing from what I care about right now.”
“Then what do you care about?”
“You! I fucking care about you, or I wouldn’t be here right now just to make sure you’re okay.”
He steps out into the hall, the door snicking closed behind him. “Tell me something, Oakley. Do I look okay?”
I take a second to look at him. Really look at him, and I hate what I see.
I noticed earlier this week he’s dropped some weight, having watched him adjust the fit of his pads before practice. Not a lot of weight, but enough to see his chest and shoulders don’t fill out his shirt the way they used to.
My gaze travels up, finding a vacant expression etched into his features, starting with his eyes. Ones that used to be full of light and fire, but now just look empty.
Hollow.
And I hate knowing I’m the reason. It cuts me to my core.
Which is why all I can do is shake my head.
“Well then, there you go. You got your answer. Now you can go,” he says, tossing his hand toward the elevator.
Defeat slams into me like a tidal wave, and it’s then I realize I might never get through to him. Might never have the chance to explain what he means to me, how much I care.
The extent I would go to make this right between us.
Which is why, though I know I should, I don’t make a move to leave like he’s telling me.
“I hope you know…I really am sorry. I didn’t know Braxton would take things as far as he did. If I did, I would’ve—”
Quinton’s fist slams against the wall behind him in frustration before he leans back against it. Two rows of perfect, white teeth gnaw at his bottom lip while he takes a deep breath, and I can tell he’s trying to rein in his temper.
Something that hasn’t taken control of him in quite some time now.
Then again, I’ve always been the person to make it burn the hottest.
Another deep, long sigh comes from him before he finally speaks. “Don’t fucking lie to me again, Oakley. We both know you wouldn’t. And the reason I know that is because you keep tossing Braxton’s name at me like you’re not equally at fault here. You might not have committed the crime, but you still knew. You could’ve cost me my future in hockey. And you didn’t do a fucking thing to make it right, even after things with us…” He trails off with a shake of his head, eyes darting toward the floor. “You might not have held the gun, but you still helped pull the trigger. You’re responsible for your choices. Now you have to live with them.”
He’s right. Every person on this planet has to live with the choices they make and suffer the consequences of them too.
The problem here is…I can’t live with mine. Because it means living without him.
A somber cloud forms over both of us, twisting and coiling as it waits for the perfect moment to start a downpour of emotions. All the ones I’ve been doing my best to hold in over the past few weeks, if only to make it through the rest of the season.
But I feel it all coming to a head as tears well in those ice blue eyes I know better than my own.
Despite clearing his throat, his voice is grated, like it’s been dragged over shards of shattered glass. And the sound of it pierces my heart.
But not nearly as much as the words he speaks.
“Just let me ask you this. Did the end justify the means?”
No.
And just like that, the storm swirling around us unleashes.
Shame and regret courses through me, because the answer came so quickly, it should’ve been obvious months ago. It shouldn’t have taken me standing here, begging for him to see me or listen to what I have to say, to realize what I did was just…fucked up.
Even if I didn’t act on it, I still planted a seed capable of ruining Quinn’s career—his entire future in the NHL. And for what? To be team captain for one fucking season? To fulfill some role in a legacy I won’t even be passing on to another generation of Reeds after me? To keep from having to play with him?
It’s disgusting, and it’s a bitter pill to swallow. I just can’t believe I didn’t make this realization sooner.
Nothing is worth ruining the hard work and determination of someone else.
It sure as hell isn’t worth losing him.
I nod a couple times, swallowing harshly before meeting his gaze. “You’re right. It wasn’t justified. And sure, the me five months ago wouldn’t have stopped him. But it doesn’t change the fact that the me standing in front of you right now would. Yeah, sure,” I say, tossing my arms out to my sides, “I wanted to be captain. I wanted to see you get knocked down a peg or two or ten, but it’s no fucking reason for me to do what I did. I should have known and realized it, but I didn’t. And I’m sorry for it. I really, truly am. But you have to understand I’m not the guy from before.”
“Before?”
“Before I saw past the bullshit, Quinn.” I lick my lips and step closer to him “When I got to see who you really were, it all started changing. Shifting, and no matter how many times I tried to make it stop, I was fucking helpless to it.”
His nod is grim, matching the thin line his mouth creates. “Not a good place to be for someone who loves control, is it?”
I shake my head, a long sigh slipping past my lips.
Not at all, babe. Not at fucking all.
“I don’t know…what you expect to come from all this.” He rubs the back of his neck before dropping it to his side again. “What do you want?”
So many things. But the most important is…to not lose you.
“For you to forgive me,” I whisper. “It doesn’t need to be today or tomorrow or next week or in a month. But I want your forgiveness, however long it takes to get it.”
Giving in to my urge to touch him, I close the couple feet of distance between us.
“Hit me. Hurt me. Get your payback. Your revenge. I don’t care what you do or how you do it, but please, do something. Fucking anything is better than this.” My throat feels raw and shredded from shards of glass as I repeat the words he said the day he flipped my world on axis. “Fight me, baby. There’s nothing I want more.”
His eyes sink closed; only pure anguish etched into his features as his forehead connects with mine. “You really think I want that?”
From the tone of his voice, I can tell he doesn’t. I can’t say I blame him, either.
But I want him to fight me. Fight with me. Because if he does, there’s still a chance. For this to be fixed. That I didn’t fuck this up forever.
To know we’re still worth fighting for.
Because I think we are. I just hope he does too.
It’s only when his eyes open, gaze colliding with mine again, I find the courage to answer as honestly as I dare.
“I don’t know what you want.”
He shakes his head, throat working to swallow. “Well, that makes two of us. I can tell you I don’t want revenge or payback or any of the petty bullshit you just offered me. It’s not worth shit, after all. Something you taught me.”
“Quinn…”
He shakes his head again, eyes darting off to the side as he speaks. “I can tell you what I used to want. Someone who understood my love for hockey. Who liked me for me, not my money or my name. Who would stand up for me. Who was on my side, even if it was just us against the rest of the world. All of which were completely obvious before you.” He licks his lips, and lets out a sharp sigh. “But once this all started between us, I also realized I wanted someone who would laugh at me. Or with me, it didn’t matter which. Someone to challenge me to be better. Who would drag me through the stacks and have his way with me. Who would tell me he couldn’t stand me and then kiss me all in the same breath.”
Every word leaving his lips breaks my heart more, and paired with the broken, raw way he says it, I’m surprised it’s still beating in my chest at all.
Because all those things he said, I can do or I’ve already done. They’re things we are or have together. They make us. And…it gives me hope.
Until he goes and quashes it altogether.
“But most of all,” he utters, his voice shredded and raw, “I wanted someone who wouldn’t fucking betray me.”
His words are a knife slicing through skin, muscle, and bone, stabbing straight into my barely beating heart. But I can’t even complain. Not when I dug one into his back first.
“I’m sorry, Quinn. I’m so sorry.”
His teeth sink into his bottom lip, and he shakes his head again. “I don’t wanna hear it, Oak. I’m sick of I’m sorry.”
“Then let me prove it to you. Please. I swear on my parents, my brother, on hockey, on everything I love,” I try reasoning. “Please believe me when I tell you I didn’t know.”
“You keep saying that, but you did, Oak. You told me you thought something was off, but you chose to sit on it.”
“Yes, but I didn’t know.”
“You just said—”
“No, I didn’t know, Quinn. I didn’t know it would matter to me when all was said and done. I didn’t know that I would care about what Braxton did or didn’t do because I didn’t know I would fall in love with you.”
The words fly from my mouth, and honestly, I don’t care if their presence destroys things more. I might’ve kept a massive secret from him about this whole shit with Braxton and his drug test, but to hell if I’m gonna keep how I feel about him to myself.
He’s in every beat of my heart. And he deserves to know that.
I blow out a breath, and scrub my hand over my face, a sense of irony hitting me right between the eyes. And I can’t help the sad, pathetic laugh breaking free when it does.
“That’s the most fucked up part of it all, though. There you were, from the beginning, telling me not to fall in love with you. But I did anyway. And if I’d listened to you, this wouldn’t hurt nearly as much. Because it does hurt, knowing you don’t trust me. Knowing I don’t deserve your trust anymore.”
Every bottled up word and emotion comes spewing from my mouth in what can only be classified as word vomit, but I don’t care. I let it flow free, giving him all the little pieces I’ve been too busy keeping to myself when I should have been handing them over all along.
But I can see now, it’s too little, too late.
Quinn’s jaw ticks, blue eyes flaring behind his glasses. I’ve learned him well enough to know he’s holding something back. Keeping words to himself when I’d sell my soul to hear them. Ones I need to hear.
Even if it’s rage or hate. Even if he tells me to go kick rocks and never come back. Fucking anything would be preferable over silence.
At least, that way, I’d know I’ve destroyed what we had beyond repair.
But all I get is…nothing.
So rather than keep fighting a losing battle, I walk away; tiny pieces of my heart left in my wake as he does nothing to stop me.
