UNEDITED
Kaleb Jones is living the dream. He's playing hockey with Shea Smith again, dating the woman of his dreams, and has a promising future ahead.
Ella Taylor's life feels perfect until she discovers her boyfriend has been cheating on her with...
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Kaleb
Time keeps slipping away, and with that, my sanity. No matter how many times Mel and I linger at the beach or go out on spontaneous dates, nothing can dull the consistent ache in my chest.
It doesn't bode well for my stats in hockey, either. Based on public opinions and the media, I'm the worst trade that Vancouver ever made. There have also been meetings. Meetings that have signified warnings of being sent down to the AHL, which is not good for someone who's been playing in the NHL since he was eighteen. When the crowd and media turn against you, the space you've created for yourself becomes toxic. Whenever I'm about to take a shot or make a pass, I'm questioning myself, wondering if I'm doing the right thing. It feels like anything I do will be frowned upon by the public and media.
What worries me is living alone. Do I even have that ability? Coping also has proven to be difficult in my lifetime. When my parents divorced... although I hid plenty of sadness behind my jokes and smiles, it affected me. I was dependent on Ella and my friends throughout high school. Without them, I don't think things would've gone well for me. Addiction's been an issue in generations throughout my family, too. What if I can't resist the temptation to numb my feelings with alcohol?
After tying my skates, I lean back against the wall and rub my face.
Shea nudges me. "You good, KJ?"
"Same old, same old," I sigh. "Playing shitty hockey."
His sympathetic glance makes anger stir in my blood. I hate being pitied. But then I remind myself about the conversation we had. He's not pitying me. He's trying to give me support, and I have to accept that. Not only because it's all he can do but also because I need it.
"You're not playing shitty hockey. Sometimes all that matters is showing up and contributing." He squeezes my shoulder. "I can't play hockey without you, man."
I roll my eyes, but the smile still breaks through. "You're just trying to make me feel useful."
He pokes me in the ribs. "It's working, isn't it?"
"Yeah," I admit.
Shea claps me on the back, his smile mirroring mine. "We've got this. You're gonna blow the minds of the fans and media tonight. Four goals, bro. Mark my words."
"Now you're taking it too far."
He raises his eyebrows. "Want to make a bet?"
"I thought you learned your lesson with bets."
Shea tosses his head back and laughs. "This one is for fun, trust me."
I tip my head to the side, cocking an eyebrow. "I'll be the judge of that."
"Okay," he shrugs, turning to me. He rests his forearms against his thighs. "If you score four goals tonight, I'll buy all the alcohol for tonight's get together. And the pizza. If not, you buy. Sound fair?" He holds his hand out. "We got a deal?"
