Pops grabs my shoulder and says, “You scared us for a minute there, son. We should get you home.”
Honestly, I don’t want to stay with either one of them, but it’s too late for them to take me back tonight. All I want is to suffer by myself as I analyze my massive mistake. After a few minutes, we’re in the car on our way home. Presley heads to Pops’ first to drop him off. When I get out of the car, Pres asks what I’m doing.
“I’m going to stay here tonight.”
“You don’t want to go with me?” Her lips pout a little. I doubt she even knows she’s doing it. Tonight, I dislike that pout nearly as much as I hate this day. All it does is annoy the hell out of me.
“No,” I answer coldly.
Slamming the door, I leave my father behind and go inside, straight to my room. How did this happen? If I’m disappointed in myself, then I know Pops, Presley, and probably Momma are too. I sit on the edge of my bed and stare at all the hockey things I’ve collected over the years that Momma put together before she died. I look at it as if it’s the answer to everything. As if it could fix this. But there’s no way to fix it now. Who knows how long I stare at it, but the anger at my situation rises more and more as each second passes.
“Levi?”
I turn to look at Pops. “Yeah?”
He walks over and sits next to me. “You know I don’t usually get involved-”
“Then don’t,” I interrupt, already knowing where this is going. I don’t need to hear his shit right now. He can fuss at me all he wants later. Just not now.
“Levi James,” he chides sternly, but I stop him again.
“I really don’t want to hear it, Pops.”
“I don’t care, Levi. There is no excuse for acting that way towards Presley. If you want to be angry, that’s fine. But don’t you dare take it out on her.”
My vision blurs slightly, and I rub my eyes. Will he leave me alone already? “Fine. I’ll call her tomorrow and apologize.”
“You better.” He pats my knee. “You’ll be back in the game in no time, Levi. Don’t worry about that. Your health is the most important thing right now.” Then he stands and finally leaves.
My health is the most important thing? What about the fact that I screwed this up? What about how I’m not playing with the Penguins for sixty minutes? Finding that part of the wall my mom decorated with all my hockey stuff before she died, I continue staring, memorizing every detail. Those things mean nothing in this moment because one thing is clear.
I’ve failed.
Not only have I failed, but until this fucking concussion and the symptoms clear, I’m out of the game. I sigh as my thoughts turn towards my mother. She wouldn’t be happy that my first shot with her team ended with a stupid injury. My head throbs and I feel like I might be sick. After changing into pajamas, I lay down in bed as my phone vibrates on the nightstand.
Presley: You’re a great player, Levi. You’ll get another chance. Love you.
Levi: I was an ass. Sorry. Call you tomorrow. Love you too.
I only texted her back because of my father. Pops can drive me back tomorrow morning. These next couple days, I’m supposed to take it easy and then be reevaluated again. Hopefully, I can start playing again soon, but with the way I feel, I doubt it.
What a fan-fucking-tastic day.
~
Three days after that dreadful game, I’ve barely spoken to Presley or Pops. That’s exactly the way I want it too. All they do is ask how I’m feeling or reassure me that I’ll be back in no time. It’s exhausting to hear, especially when I’m having trouble sleeping and still experiencing headaches. That’s not a good sign for a speedy recovery. Jayson and Landon have been okay, but they are gone during the day most of the time. Like today.
Part of me hates it because all I can think about is how I got hurt. I replay it in my head over and over, looking for my mistake. Was I too slow? Too off-balanced? Too nervous? Or is it as simple as the fact that I wasn’t good enough to start with? That is the answer I keep coming back to because there shouldn’t have been a mistake. I shouldn’t have gotten hurt. It slams into me hard that I’m not good enough for my one passion in life.
What the hell am I supposed to do about that? Keep playing in the AHL? Give up on my dreams of being in the NHL? Simply lose hope now and go back to school? Hockey is everything. I can’t do without it, even if it means never reaching my dreams. There’s a rapid knocking on the front door, halting my train wreck of thoughts. Who is here? Begrudgingly, I get up and open the door to find Presley.
“Shouldn’t you be in class?” I ask, as she pushes her way past me to come inside.
“Why are you ignoring me, Levi?” Her hands prop on her hips, and I can’t help but notice she’s wearing her Fuck Me boots.
Ugh, I don’t want to deal with this today. Walking past her, I go to my room. Of course, she follows, ranting the whole way.
r /> “You’ve been ignoring Victor too. I’m trying to be a good girlfriend here, but I can’t do that if you won’t even talk to me.”