meant to be • adam banks

chapter twenty two

adam

My wrist is broken.

I can't play hockey for at least ten to twelve weeks.

And I don't know what the fuck to do with myself.

You'd think that I'm being overdramatic, but I'm really not. This sport is my entire life, and having to sit out for at least three months while I watch my friends get better is torture. Not only that, but I could fall behind and get my scholarship taken away, which is even worse.

I'm trying to think positively though, because that's the absolute worst-case scenario. I doubt it'll come down to that, especially because Minnesota's head coach told me not to worry and to just rest up. Even so, I still can't help but worry. A huge barrier has just been placed in my way and I don't know how I'm supposed to get around it, or if I even can.

I feel a wave of anxiety start to rise, and I know I'll start freaking out if I keep thinking about this. So, before I even know what I'm doing, I have my phone held up to my ear as I listen to the ringing while I'm hoping to all that is holy that Dean answers.

"Banksie?" his voice comes through the line just as I was about to hang up. "Everything okay? You never call me."

"Wanna come over and smoke?" I ask, ignoring the subconscious part of my brain that's telling me to quit while I still technically can. "I'm anxious and I need to relax. I know this may seem weird but I didn't know who else to call and I feel like we can use it to bond or something."

He chuckles as I stumble over the end, because Dean knows I'm not one for semantics. But I hear some rustling in the background, so I know he's most likely getting out of his bed and getting ready to grab his stuff. "What time? And do you want mine or yours?"

"Whenever you can get here." I answer without hesitation. "Also, bring yours. It's way stronger than mine and I'm going to need it to distract myself."

"Sounds good." he replies. "I'm gonna bring Fulton too, because you can use the company. Don't even bother trying to argue, because you know I'm right. See you in fifteen."

The call ends, and I breathe out a sigh of relief. Or shame, but I don't really care enough to decide. And now that I'm thinking about things, Dean's right. I do need the company, and what better way to spend a Saturday night alone than in my backyard with my favorite people?

I pull up the Ducks group chat and invite them over, asking them to get here as soon as they can. I know it looks pretty desperate, but like Dean said before, I could really use some friends around. The last week of sulking in my room has only gotten me so far, and it's time to stop feeling bad for myself.

Am I avoiding my emotions by doing something I shouldn't be? Well... yes, but I could be doing things that are way worse. I shouldn't be excusing it, because I know it's bad, but I think it's better if I just ride out the phase while it lasts instead of trying to quit altogether. Withdrawals are the last thing I need on top of everything else.

Out of habit, I look out my window to see if Alex's car is in Ella's driveway. To my shock, it isn't, which is weird considering that he's always at her house. I try not to get my hopes up, because her car isn't in the driveway either. Again, against my better judgement, I look down the street to see if I can spot it at Alex's house. And again, to my surprise, it's not there.

I don't even know why I'm bothering to figure it out. It's not like she's in my life anymore, nor do I want her to be in it, so the fact that I'm so rattled over this is making me annoyed. And honestly, even more eager to smoke.

I guess I daydreamed longer than I thought, because next thing I know, Dean's car is pulling up in front of my house. I throw on the closest sweatshirt I can find, which is now the only thing covering my upper body, because I haven't been bothered to put on a shirt in days. I can guarantee I'm going to be freezing my ass off after a few minutes outside, but again, I can't really be bothered.