Sidelined Love: Chapter 29

“Jamison! Get your head in the damn game!” Coach yells from the sidelines.

I hear him loud and clear, but I can’t bring myself to look over and see the disappointment on his face.

I try to focus on my job tonight, but tonight my mind and heart aren’t in it. The biggest reason is because I’d caught a glimpse of my father in the stands, arms crossed, frown on his face. Of course he has no issue with coming to this game as well, even though we are playing a college that is about an hour away from Crestwood.

Looks like my attempts to ignore him have come to a head, and I imagine that when he finds me after the game, his version of hell will break loose.

The puck feels as heavy as a brick as I struggle to control it. My passes are sloppy, my shots way off target. As captain, I’m supposed to be leading this team, but tonight I’m letting everyone down.

The final buzzer sounds and I slowly skate over to the bench with my head hanging low. We lost and it is, in part, because of me.

Coach shakes his head as I sit down, exhausted and defeated. “I expected more from you tonight, Jamison. Get it together.”

His words sting, even though I know he’s right. I should have played better. I should have been a better leader for this team.

It has been almost a week since I’ve seen Hailey, and the distance is getting to me. The reasoning behind us not seeing each other is because of our busy schedules this week, but I can’t help but wonder if there might be more to this on her end. I hope I’m wrong, but this isn’t an excuse for how shitty I played today.

Once I head into the locker room and hit the showers, I allow the hot water to run over my aching muscles. However, it does nothing to soothe the stress and pain that are overpowering any other emotion I could possibly have right now.

And this is all before I’ve spoken a single word to my father.

Everyone can sense that something is off with me today, and it’s not just because of my performance in the game. They’re all avoiding me, including Asher, who usually puts up with most of my shit on a regular basis. Some days I can push through and put on a good face. But others, like tonight, it all feels like too much. I’m not the perfect son or student or captain my father wants me to be. And I’m disappointing everyone—my team, my coaches, my family.

I take my time getting my things together, dreading the confrontation I know is coming. I can picture my dad waiting outside, pacing, and ready to pick apart every mistake I made on the ice tonight. He won’t hold back because he doesn’t care who hears him tear into me.

When I finally emerge, Frank Jamison is there as expected. He barely waits for me to take a step toward him before he snaps at me. “What the hell was that out there? Do you want to explain to me how the captain of one of the best college teams in the nation managed to cost his team the game?”

I stare at the ground, unable to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry,” I mumble. “I was off my game tonight.”

“Off your game?” he snorts. “You’re damn right you were off your game! That was a piss-poor performance. What’s wrong with you? You’ve been playing like shit.”

His words feel like a slap in the face as his criticism slices me in the heart. It hurts even more so because hockey is so much a part of my identity and my father’s approval means everything, even though his love feels conditional.

“Things have been… rough lately,” I admit.

“Rough?” He shakes his head, dismissing my response. “Do you think anyone gives a damn about your problems off the ice? Get your head straight and leave whatever is happening to you off the ice. I didn’t raise a quitter.”

I flinch at his words. The truth is, I don’t know how to get my head straight these days. Between my father’s expectations, my trying to figure out things with Hailey, and the pressure I put on myself, I feel stretched thin, like I might flip out at any moment. But I know better than to talk back or make excuses.

I clench my jaw and stare at the ground, telling myself I shouldn’t respond. Arguing will only make things worse.

“Are you even listening to me?” my dad asks. More like demands, if I’m being honest.

“Yes sir,” I mutter, avoiding his gaze. “I hear you and it won’t happen again.”

“See that it doesn’t.” He waits a beat before he turns and walks away, not even bothering to say goodbye.

Of course he doesn’t. It would be too much like doing the right thing and having compassion for the only child he has left.

I readjust my duffel before shoving my hands into my pockets and leaving the arena.

I start the walk back to the bus, replaying the game in my head. Each missed shot, each fuckup—it’s all there in excruciating detail. All I want to do is get back to my apartment so I can be alone to lick my wounds. The only thing I can think of that can possibly help me feel better is Hailey, but I also don’t want her to see me in this state.

Lost in thought, I barely notice when Asher catches up to me halfway to the bus.

“Hey,” he says as he falls into step beside me. “You gonna talk about it or are we gonna pretend everything’s fine?”

I give a halfhearted shrug but don’t say anything.

Asher’s silence is needed. He doesn’t push like others might; he waits because he knows eventually, I’ll crack.

Finally, I let out a long sigh. “Tonight was a shit show,” I confess without looking at him.

“But it happens. We’ll kick ass and win our next game.”

I glance at him out of the side of my eye. “I know you’re trying to be cheerful to help me feel better, but you feel as shitty as I do after that game.”

“But as Coach likes to tell us, one game doesn’t define us.”

I shake my head, understanding what he is doing but also not believing him. “Easy for you to say. You didn’t play the worst game of your career and didn’t have your father waiting for you after the game so that he could tell you how much of a disappointment you are.”

“I know this is easier said than done, but fuck what your father thinks of you. You know we’ve all had those games where we can’t seem to do anything right. Doesn’t change the fact that you’re a damn good captain.”

I let out a dry laugh. “Thanks, Ash.” I run a hand through my hair, feeling the frustration about this week’s events clinging to me like a second skin. “It feels like I’m carrying around this… I dunno, this expectation that I should always be at the top of everything for who knows how long, and some days it all tumbles down.”

“That’s because you usually are, man. But you’re human, and it’s okay to have off days. Besides,” he adds with a lopsided grin, “there’s more to life than hockey, although it’s hard for us to remember that at times.”

We arrive at the bus, and I turn to look at him. “What, like classes? Had a hell of a week with them as is. I’m also trying to not fuck up things with a girl who deserves someone with less baggage.”

“Since you brought her up, how are things going with Hailey?”

“It’s… complicated and I know that is shocking,” I say sarcastically.

“What isn’t complicated at this point?” Asher asks as we slowly walk onto the bus.

“Touché.” I finally give in to a small smile. “She’s amazing, man. Different from anyone I’ve ever met.”

“That’s a good thing?”

“Definitely. She challenges me, makes me want to be better.” The admission feels heavy on my tongue, but it’s the truth. “However, she doesn’t want to have anything more than… whatever is going on between us.”

Asher throws himself into a seat near the window before he says, “How does that make you feel?”

My head involuntarily jerks back before I side down into the aisle seat next to him. “What are you, my therapist?”

“Your deflection isn’t going to work here.”

I sigh. “It sucks because I really like her. But I get it, you know? She doesn’t want to be mixed up in going public with me and is dealing with her own shit.”

“Even if it’s not something you want.”

“Yes,” I reply, though every part of me screams otherwise. “I’ll take her anyway I can get her.”

“But how long will you be happy with just having a piece of her?”

Asher’s question hangs in the air because I’m not sure how to respond.

Deep down, I’m afraid to admit the truth—even to myself. The possibility that I’ll never be satisfied with a small part of Hailey bothers me, but the alternative—pushing for more and possibly driving her away—is a risk I don’t want to take. I’m determined to follow her wishes.

“I don’t have the answer,” I finally say.

“Fair. You know what? Why don’t you come over to our place and blow off some steam tonight?”

The invitation is enticing to say the least. The thought of spending time with good friends and forgetting about my troubles for a while is a welcome relief.

“Sounds good. Let me know when you want me to show up.”

“Deal. Let me shoot Knox and Blaise a text to clarify a couple of things, but it should be fine.”

I nod, grateful for the distraction. We ride the rest of the way back to campus in a comfortable silence. As the bus pulls into the parking lot, I feel my phone buzz in my pocket. Without looking, I know it’s likely my father, probably with something to add to the criticism he spewed at me earlier. I have no problem ignoring him.

When we get off the bus, Asher pulls me aside and says, “I’ll see you later tonight, right? The guys said maybe you can come over in forty-five minutes.”

“Sounds good. See you in a few.”

We part ways, and I head toward my SUV. Once I throw my bag into the back seat and I get situated in the driver’s seat, I drive back to my apartment on what feels like autopilot. It’s not until I park and drag myself up to my place that I’m tired. But that’s not stopping me from going to Asher, Knox, and Blaise’s place.

I dump my stuff on the couch and fall into it in an attempt to release the tension from my body. I close my eyes for a moment and that turns into thirty minutes. Luckily, I wake up before I need to leave because I refuse to stay here all night.

Asher’s right. A change of scenery and some time with the guys outside of hockey will do me some good.

I change my clothes, deciding to dress in a well-worn pair of jeans and a warm Crestwood hoodie. After, I double-check to make sure I’ve grabbed the essentials—my wallet, phone, and keys. After closing my front door, I lock up my apartment as I gather my second wind, determined to put this hellish day and week behind me.