The Tales of a Professional Hockey Player

Chapter 25: We Need to Talk

~Eleanor~

I came back to New York four days later than I was supposed to. My parents, Olive and Alexander all had to work meaning that I was alone with Ophelia all day long. So, I decided to come back. I still wasn't ready to face Ben but knew that I would have to one day. I felt like such an idiot when I woke up in my hotel room the day after Will's wedding. I didn't fully remember what happened but felt ashamed about what I did remember and noticing that he had left didn't help making me feel better. I was certain he had left because he found what had happened disgusting and degrading. It was only when I was about to leave my room that I found the note he had slid under the door. He was terribly sorry but had to go back to New York to deal with something about his NHL contract. And suddenly, I was upset with him. Once again, he had chosen hockey over me. It was irrational and stupid, but I decided to ignore the call I was getting from him at that exact moment.

He tried to call me four times that day. I was mad when I ignored the first one but had calmed down for the three others. If he left, then it must have been because of something important. I let the other three calls go to voicemail because I felt ashamed of the reason why I ignored the first one. He didn't leave any voicemails. Just a text, saying to call him back. I didn't. I didn't because I knew we would have to talk about the wedding, and I wasn't ready to go there. I had decided to stay at the hotel for a few days after the wedding to enjoy my holidays with Ophelia, so I wanted to explore the city without being obsessed over what Ben would have said or not said. He would be in New York when I would come back anyway, we would talk then, I told myself. But he wasn't. He wasn't home, and neither were most of his things. His hockey equipment was gone, his bag too. He didn't own many clothes and since most of them were in the suitcase he had brought to BC and had left at his parents'; he wouldn't be able to go very far.

At least that's what I thought. It's been nine days. Nine long days of worrying. Worrying about why he left his phone behind or why he gave me back the apartment's key. Nine days of trying to figure out what the shredded piece of paper on the floor means. Nine days of interpreting the note he left on the table. I don't give a damn. Those were his words. He had never said that to me before, that he didn't give a damn about me. Nine days of calling everyone he knows to try and find out where he is. I started with Olive and Alex, then his parents, my parents, Hannah, Matthew, and, finally, Connor who refused to tell me anything. I knew he knew where Ben was, that's his job, but he didn't say anything. I called Olive, crying, telling her I had messed up. For once, I was the one who had made the biggest mistake. She listened, and, as we were about to hang up, she told me where Ben was. Alex had called Connor while we were on the phone and he had revealed the secret when Alex told him that we were all worrying about him. He shouted apparently. Really loudly.

"I don't think you should go, though," Olive told me after giving me the Ben's hotel's name. "Because it's his training camp. I think you should let him finish his training before going to see him," she answered when I asked her why. She was right. I had decided to take a break before coming back to New York and he deserved the same.

That was three days ago. I called Connor every day since then, to assure myself that Ben was ok. Yesterday, he told me that it was the last day of the training camp. Ben is done with his first NHL training camp since eleven yesterday morning. So, this morning, after dropping off Ophelia at Matthew's, I took the bus to Ben's hotel. I have been feeling a lump in my throat ever since I got on that bus and I know that it won't go away until I have talked to him.

I knock on his door as soon as I arrive in front of it, knowing that if I wait, I won't have enough courage to go through with it. He opens the door a few seconds later. I must have woken him up. He's only wearing a pair of tight black boxers, his hair is disheveled, and he is rubbing his eyes with his hands. Ben isn't known for sleeping late, his hockey schedule obliges. I think it's the first time I see him waking up after seven am. I can't help but notice the many ways his body has changed since I last saw him without a shirt on. His muscles are more defined. The thin lines that formed his abs now run deep in his skin, his biceps seem to be twice as big as before, and two v-lines encircle the happy trail that goes down in his boxer. I notice the black and white tiger head tattooed under the spitfire on his ribcage. The Ice Tigers. That was his team in Germany. I can't believe that he must have had this tattooed on him for more than a year and that I am only noticing it now. It makes me feel so far away from him, further than I have ever felt.

"What are you doing here?" he says as soon as he sees me. His voice is harsh like he would have preferred to see his worst enemy.

"We need to talk, Ben." He rolls his eyes, staying in the doorway to keep me from entering his room.

"No," he simply answers. "We needed to talk a week and a half ago, but you preferred to ignore my calls. I'm not in the mood to talk right now." He spits out the words without looking at me. Every word that comes out of his mouth hits me like a ton of brick falling on my head.

"Can we not do this in the hallway?" I whisper as a woman and her son walk past us.

"Sure," he says as he closes the door in my face.