Two Years Later || Book II

Chapter Five - Moving On

The next morning, there was a knock at my bedroom door.

"Good morning, Ondra," Nicola whispered, entering my room with a tray of food.

And not far behind her, Michael entered.

"How'd you sleep?" Michael asked, sitting at the edge of my bed.

"It must've been late when you got in, hm?" Nicola added, handing me the tray.

I sat up quickly, grabbing the food from her. I knew they were trying to get at something; and I had an idea as to what that 'something' was, but I insisted on letting them struggle to spit it out. So, I stared at them expectantly while I buttered my toast.

I took one bite of the food and dropped it back onto the tray, "I know what you're trying to get at," I spat, narrowing my eyes at both of them.

They looked at each other, concerned, then back at me.

"I'm fine," I insisted, "It's been two years, and I'm a big boy. Sure, I miss her like crazy, but I've moved on, okay?"

"Okay," Michael said softly, nodding.

"Thank you for breakfast, Nicola," I smiled, "But, if you'll excuse me, I've gotta head off to practice."

"Wait up," Michael called, "Just let me get changed and we can ride together."

"I think I'll just go alone," I insisted, slamming the door behind me.

Once I arrived at the rink, I was furious. Today was the first day of actual training camp, and I had no intention of interacting with fans. I didn't want to hear their condolences.

Never did I ever ask for this to happen, yet I have constant reminders everyday.

She had problems, and I knew that. I should've stayed home with her that weekend; I should've been there for her.

It all flooded through my mind as I proceeded to get into my gear. I has managed to dodge all the fans by going through the back doors, and straight to the dressing room.

There was chatter as I flung the door open, but it stopped as soon as I stepped into the room. All eyes were on me, as the room turned suddenly silent.

I stared at all of them, then headed directly for my stall. It was then that they all turned their attention to the ground.

I honestly didn't feel like talking to them, anyways. So, I continued to get ready in complete silence.

"Okay, guys," an all-too-familiar voice called as the door flew open, "Get that gear on and let's head out!"

A few of the early comers proceeded to head out, while a few others were still getting ready and quietly chatting amongst each other; managing not to say a word to me.

It was only a few more moments until the last guy had left for the ice, leaving only Paul and I in the room. I stood up slowly and started towards the ice, until he stopped me.

"Ondrej, are you okay?" Paul asked quietly, grabbing hold of my arm as I tried to walk by.

"Of course," I insisted cheerfully, "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, just because of the whole thing with A-"

"No no," I shrugged, "I'm alright."

I patted him on the shoulder before heading onto the ice.

Deep down, I wasn't alright. I was far, far from 'alright'.

I took a few shots on the net before taking my place in the crease. Once the guys began taking shots, the ice would get loud and rowdy... Though, not this time.

Not many words were spoken - not to me; not to anyone.

And I couldn't help but feel as though I was the one causing the awkward silence.

As the shots kept coming, I realized more and more that I was way out of my element. And I was sure the guys knew that two, by the looks they were giving me.

Finally, Zach came to clear out some pucks from the net for me.

"Finally, someone who'll treat me normally," I chuckled, leaning against the crossbar.

He just turned to me and smiled, exhaling a bit. He never spoke a word, and that was the last straw for me.

I skated forward some, and cleared my throat, "Why won't anyone talk to me?" I called, narrowing my eyes at every man.

Not one person breathed a word.

"I'm done," I said, throwing my arms up in surrender. I skated directly to the exit, and began to quickly tear off and toss away my gear.

I tossed away my helmet, blocker and glove, then my jersey, until I was only left in my pads.

Tears were burning at my eyes, but I managed to blink them away before they fell.

"I don't want this pain anymore," I cried, sitting down at my stall. "Why'd you have to go, Anna?"

"Why'd you have to go, when I loved you so much?"

I looked up to the ceiling, in hopes she was listening.

And at that moment, I could've swore I felt her touch upon my shoulder.

It was then that that first tear fell, and I finally decided to just go home.