Save the Game (SCU Hockey Book 2) by J.J. Mulder

Author:J.J. Mulder [Mulder, J.J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-08-22T00:00:00+00:00

12

Max

I haven’t moved since Luke quietly closed the door behind him on his way out of my apartment. I feel sick—skin too tight and blood pounding too forcefully through my body. Objectively, I know the walls aren’t moving, but it feels like they are; it feels like I’m being penned in from all sides, overwhelmed and unable to think beyond one single fact: Luke knows.

Shakily, I leave my room and stride over to Marcos’ door. It takes a full thirty seconds of knocking before I remember that he’s not here and my stomach plummets. Hands shaking, mind a tangled mess of confusion and shame, I sway dangerously as the dizziness becomes so intense my vision swims. I need to get out of here.

It takes me an embarrassingly long time to tug on my shoes, and I don’t even bother trying to tie the laces with my trembling fingers. Stepping outside, the pressure in my chest eases but my mind continues to spin. Barely aware of what direction I’m going, I put my feet to the pavement and just walk.

I feel disgusting and violated. I feel the same way I felt when I woke up in the hospital, disoriented and in pain, listening as somebody explained a trauma I couldn’t even remember. Disproportionately, this feels worse. Luke was supposed to be safe. Luke was perfect and now I wonder if any of it was even real. A small, barely there voice in my mind tries to remind me that I know it was real, that I know Luke, but it’s meaningless. A car horn sounds and I flinch, coming back to myself enough to look around at my surroundings.

I’m on campus. It’s dusk, and apart from a few stragglers leaving the library, I’m alone. I stand there, a ship unmoored and teetering on a choppy sea. Barely even conscious of making the decision, I turn until I’m facing north and continue walking. I don’t stop until I reach the house, raise my fist and knock. The pressure in my chest has increased, and the dizziness has returned tenfold. I’m just wondering if I’m going to be sick when the door opens wide and Coach Mackenzie’s tall form swims into view.

He says something, but it’s garbled like I’ve got my head underwater. Pressure on my arm has me looking down, shocked to find long, pale fingers wrapped around my elbow. I try to blink away some of the moisture in my eyes, but the world remains hazy.

“I don’t feel good,” I say, and the hand on my arm turns into one wrapped around my back. Coach raises his voice, shouting something indiscernible and I flinch, not expecting the volume.

I lean into him, letting him take my weight and then immediately feel bad about it. Coach is tall, but slight. I’m too heavy for him to carry comfortably. Somebody grips my other arm and I’m directed to the couch; my breathing sounds ragged.

“Is he hurt?” A voice I don’t recognize asks urgently. Coach

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