Falling: Chapter 2

“Sorry. Could you say that again?”

I shake my head to get my eyes to refocus from the brown walls in the office to her disappointed face. It’s not much of an improvement, but maybe moving my eyes will fight off the headache that is threatening to ruin my day. That is, if this doesn’t do it for me.

Maybe taking shots before I came wasn’t the best idea, but I was convinced I was going to get kicked out anyway. Some liquid courage never hurt anyone. Well, that’s what I’ve been telling myself for the last three months, and nothing bad has happened yet.

“What is wrong with the students today? You’re the fourth person to ask me to repeat myself,” Miss Hackerly snaps at me, and I slouch a little lower in my seat. This is the very last place I wanted to be today, yet here I am, being scolded about something I have no control over.

All I can do is stare at the photos dotted around the office. The muddy-brown color is off-putting, and not the kind of color scheme that matches the rest of this building. The family pictures she has in her frames are doing weird things to my chest, though, in some pathetic Mommy issues kind of way.

There’s a girl in nearly all the photos, around my age, blonde, flushed cheeks, and she’s breathtaking. Everywhere I look, her green eyes follow me around the room, and it’s fucking distracting. Honestly, I’d much rather get stared at by this stranger than listen to whatever my hockey coach and the athletic director have to say to me.

“Mr. Tucker and I were saying that we think it’s best for you to stay off the ice for a while and hand over your captaincy to another player.” Hackerly’s voice brings me back to reality, and I instantly wish it hadn’t. This is probably the third time she’s said this to me, but it still doesn’t feel real. She takes my silence as an invitation to continue talking, which is probably a good thing. I don’t trust myself or what might come out of my mouth. “We’ve noticed a slip in your grades and in your performance since…” She hesitates, but the three people in this room know what she was about to say, so she doesn’t.

I don’t know what I would do if I heard someone else say his name again, soaked with remorse. I can’t tell which is worse—actually saying it or being too afraid to. I shift in my seat uncomfortably, my jersey suddenly feeling like it’s suffocating me. I force myself to breathe, but it only makes the gnawing feeling worse. I’ve done everything in my power to avoid these feelings, but when I least expect them to, they always creep right back up.

I clear my throat. “I said I would get back into playing when we last spoke, and I meant it. I really am trying.”

The words feel bitter coming off my tongue because I know I’m not being one hundred percent honest with them. Saying I’ll do something and actually having the balls to do it are two different things. And for a person like me, they’re usually not that hard. I’ve always been a hard worker and prided myself on being North University’s hockey golden boy. Now I’m the furthest thing from that, and I doubt anyone even knows that I’m alive.

I thought quitting my job at Nero’s Pizzeria would be the first step, the step in the right direction to give myself time to grieve and to focus on school and hockey. It became so easy to say that I’d stop drinking after having one more. Just one quickly turns into ten, and I’m passed out drunk before my housemates come back from school at three in the afternoon. It’s a pathetic way to live, but it isn’t like how it is in movies. I can’t just wake up one day and forget him and move on like nothing happened.

“Listen, Miles, we know that you miss him. We all do, but you had a few weeks off the ice and class after it happened and the whole summer away from hockey. We hoped that you’d get back into playing, but we’re already three weeks into the semester and I’ve not seen you at the rink once,” Coach says.

The last time I was on the rink, I had just finished playing one of the best games with all my favorite people. I’ve not been fully there on the ice, mentally, and I’ve spaced out enough times to land me on the bench without finishing a shift.

The thought of going out there again, without him, feels like going to sleep knowing I would have a nightmare. It’s like purposefully bringing a knife to a gunfight. I’d much rather avoid that until my head is in a better place, but it’s been five months, and I’m still not there.

I swallow the emotion lodged in my throat. “It’s just hard, Coach,” I admit, a lot less quiet and ballsy than when I started out. “I swear, I’m trying.”

“I know you are, Davis, but I need committed and healthy players on my team. We just want what’s best for you. When you’re in the position to come back, there’ll be a spot waiting for you.” His blue eyes meet mine, and he offers me a sad smile. “I’m sure you don’t mind Xavier taking over your captaincy in the meantime.

”

I sigh at the mention of my friend. “Of course not. No one deserves that role more than him.”

“I’m glad you agree,” Tucker says. “We’ll be in touch soon. Just focus on yourself for the time being. We just want you to be healthy.”

“I understand.” I nod, trying to keep my head held high.

I was in need of a reality check. As soon as I can get him out of my head, finally carve away the infection that has been festering in my heart, I might be able to get over it. People do this all the time. They lose someone, grieve, and they get over it. I don’t know how they do it, but I’m going to have to find out, and soon. Hockey is the only thing keeping me at North University, and I’ve worked way too fucking hard for it to go down the drain now.

The second I walk through the doors to my house, I question every good reason I had for moving in with Xavier Dawson and Evan Branson last year. It was fine at the beginning with me, Xavier, and Carter. The three of us were all on the same team, and hockey ruled our lives and cemented our friendship. Xavier and I were lucky enough to get in on a scholarship to play hockey, but unlike Xavier, if I fail my classes and my scholarship is removed, I can’t pay my way into staying on. It’s hockey and a few classes a week or nothing.

When we heard someone was looking for a place to stay a few months into the first semester, we decided to lend a helping hand. We didn’t know that millionaire Evan Branson would be the guy moving into our spare room after transferring from Drayton Hills in Colorado. Apparently, some big scandal blew up his reputation there and his dad shipped him off here for a taste of responsibility. He majors in fashion and business, probably so he can take over his daddy’s company when he’s old enough.

Their obnoxiously loud voices filter in when I get closer to the kitchen.

“You can’t put this disgusting cheese next to my shakes,” Xavier yells, “It’s vile.”

“Where else am I supposed to put them when your boiled eggs take up every square inch of the fridge?” Evan shouts back.

As expected, Xavier is standing in nothing but his sweatpants, and Evan is casually wearing a suit and tie on a Friday night. I’m convinced he either has nothing better to do or he’s on his way to one of his family’s galas.

“Honey, I’m home!” When Xavier’s eyes meet mine, his shoulders relax, and he no longer looks like he was about to murder our very good friend.

“Thank fuck. I was about to strangle him,” he grits out, making his way over to dap me up.

“Don’t let me stop you,” I tease, crossing my arms against my chest. I bow down to Evan, knowing it’ll get a rise out of him. “What’s the problem in the palace today, Your Royal Highness?”

He flips me off before brushing an agitated hand through his blond hair. If he thought the royalty jokes were over by now, he has another thing coming. He’s never really fit in with this house at all. While we’re chaotic, loud, and messy and always have our friends over to play video games, Evan is quieter and more reserved, often sneaking out to do whatever weird shit his family does. I have to give it to him though. He’s probably the only reason why this house is still on all its legs.

“I’d be fine if you could tell your friend to stop putting his eggs in the fridge,” Evan says with a groan.

“This might not be my house anymore, so I shouldn’t be barking out orders,” I reply, trying to make light of my situation and the worst-case scenario as I pluck a beer from behind him. I slide off the cap and take a swig, letting the cooling sensation run down my throat, leaning against the counter.

Xavier’s eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean? Is that why you were with Hacks? Are they kicking you out?”

“Almost,” I say, winking. He doesn’t buy my bullshit and stares me down, waiting for a real answer. “She and coach decided that I can’t play until I’m doing better in my classes and when I’ve got a better head on my shoulders.”

“Shit. That sucks,” Evan says, dipping a cracker into his weird cheese. Xavier and I look at it, and our eyes connect. I bite on my bottom lip to keep from laughing.

“The good news is you’re taking over my captaincy,” I say to Xavier, and his eyes go comically wide. He’s been my co-captain since last year, and he’s one of the best players that this team has. If I’m going to be out this season, I trust him to carry us to victory.

“Still sucks that you’re being benched,” Xavier says, shaking his head.

I just shrug. “I’ve been slacking for a while now; it’s about time they noticed.”

He hums in response, folding his arms against his chest. “I was going to ask if you wanted to go to Ben’s party tonight, but if you’re bummed out, we can just chill here.” He lowers his voice as he mumbles, “Which is kinda what we’ve been doing all summer.”

I think about it for a minute.

I could go and enjoy myself and stop overthinking or sit at home and wallow in my own pity and think about him.

I know which one will be more fun.