Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 131271 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 656(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131271 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 656(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
I shake my head, my jaw locked so tight it hurts. “You don’t want to hear it.”
“Yes, I do.” She shifts closer, her voice steady but gentle. “Tell me how you’re feeling. You don’t have to deal with this alone.”
The weight I carry presses into my shoulders, my ribs, my heart. Hockey, the team, my brothers, my dad—I’m losing myself, one piece at a time, beneath the weight of it. I’ve built high walls over the years against even my brothers, who are my flesh and blood. I’ve sheltered like a coward inside those walls because facing the truth would force me to look in the mirror, and I couldn’t stand to see the truth of my reflection. Scared. Weak. Ready to give up. Exactly what my dad told me I was.
But I can’t do it anymore, and Riley is my safe place; the cool fingers on my fevered brow, the soft voice in the night reminding me it’s all just a bad dream.
I exhale, long and shuddering, fighting against my instinct to keep the truth folded neatly inside me. “I can’t do it anymore, Riles.” My voice doesn’t even sound like mine.
“Can’t do what, sweetie?” Her lips touch the bones at the top of my spine, sending warmth skittering down my back.
“Hockey,” I choke out. The word tastes like a failure, bitter and sharp. “I can’t keep doing it… I don’t want to.”
The silence that follows is deafening. I stare down at my hands, my knuckles bruised from the last game, my fingers twitching like they don’t know how to be still.
“Okay,” she says, breaking the quiet.
I blink and twist to look at her, half-expecting her to recoil or to try to talk me out of it. You can’t give up, I imagine her saying. You’re so close to going pro. You just have to keep your head down and keep going. But that isn’t what she said. “Okay?”
“Yes.” Her voice is gentle but firm. “If you can’t do it anymore, then don’t. You stop. You just stop.”
The simplicity of her words knocks the wind out of me. Stop? Just stop? It’s not that simple.
“I don’t know who I am without it,” I admit, my voice raw. “I’ve spent my whole life on the ice because my dad wanted me to. It was the only way we could get him to notice us, and then it was about proving him wrong. And now…” I trail off, swallowing hard. “Now I don’t even know why I’m doing it. I hate it, Riley. Every practice, every game… it’s like I’m chained to it, like I’m not a person anymore, just an extension of a puck and a stick, a cog in a wheel, my dad’s fucking ghost made real… and I can’t keep spinning, Riley. It’s too much. I can’t do it anymore.”
Her eyes shine with quiet understanding as she shifts to face me fully. “Jacob, look at me.”
I do, reluctantly, and her gaze hits me straight in the chest. She’s so beautiful. So open, sweet, and lovely. So strong and supportive, yet kind and accepting. She’s everything I never even had the chance to believe could be mine.
“You don’t owe hockey anything,” she says firmly. “You don’t owe your dad anything, your brothers, the team, your coach, or me. None of us. You’ve been carrying all this pressure like you’re going to let everyone down, but you don’t need to live your life for anyone else. Especially with a concussion.” She smooths her hand over my forehead, over my temple, and behind my ear, and I shiver, blinking like I’m suddenly faced with the sun from behind a storm cloud.
I shake my head, my throat tight. “But I’ll disappoint everyone. The team, the coaches—they’re counting on me.”
Riley shakes her head. “And what about you?”
My throat cracks, shame forcing me to look away. “You deserve someone who’s going somewhere, Riles. If I quit now, I’m not going pro. I’m not going to win the Cup. I’m… nothing.”
Her face softens, and she strokes my cheek, forcing me to look at her. “You’re everything to me, Jacob. You. Not the player. Not the athlete. Just you.”
Her words are a cool balm, but I’m so raw they barely sink in. “Letting it go…” I trail off, the weight of the thought pressing down on me. How do I explain that giving up on everything my dad said I’d never achieve feels like letting him win? Like proving him right. If I stop, I’ll be a quitter. I’ll be too mentally weak to be a winner. I’ll be—
“Letting it go isn’t the end,” Riley says. “Your life is for you to shape, Jay. It’s the only way to find peace in your heart.” She presses her palm flush with my chest, directly over my heart, that’s being torn to shreds.