Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 86422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
“Not yet.” Mac runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t know if I even will, Fee.”
“You let me fall for you and you might be leaving.” Tears threaten to fall.
“I haven’t had the best season and my chances at getting in haven’t been great until recently.” He spins the chair to face the end of the bed and sits across from me. Clasps his hands, unclasps them, runs them down his thighs. “I wanted to tell you—”
I dash a tear away. “Then why didn’t you?”
His knee bounces and he swallows thickly. “I didn’t want to upset you.”
“You thought I’d be less upset finding out this way?” I snap, unable to contain my frustration.
“No.” His jaw clenches. “I submitted the applications before we started dating.”
“Applications, plural?” My voice rises with incredulity. The swirling panic sinks its claws in deeper.
“I don’t want to fight with you.” His voice is unsteady.
“This isn’t a fight, Mac. You kept this from me. On purpose. I think I deserve an explanation, and I also think I have a right to be upset about it. How many programs did you apply to and where?”
“There’s another one in Germany.” He gives me an imploring look. “It's not that I didn’t want you to know. I honestly didn’t believe I had much of a chance at either, so it seemed pointless to say anything and upset you. I’ve applied to the Hockey Academy, too, though.”
“But you could be in Sweden or Germany for the summer.” We might love each other, but long-distance relationships are hard. It’s a lot of missing each other. Will he want to be tied down if he’s an eight-hour flight away? Can we handle that kind of pressure, especially if it continues in the fall?
“Or I could be here, in Toronto. It’s where I want to be. Here with you,” he says earnestly, emphatically. “I don’t want to be away from you for the summer, Fee.”
“That’s not the point, though, Mac.” The ache in my chest intensifies as the possibilities I’ve avoided until now slap me in the face. “If you don’t get into the Hockey Academy, and you do get into a program in Sweden or Germany, you have to go, Mac. You can’t not go because you want to spend the summer with me.”
He swallows thickly and says softly, “But I wouldn’t want to.”
“But you would still have to.” I exhale a long breath. What we want and what’s possible might not be the same. My chest aches as I’m forced to face our unstable future unfolding, but it’s more than that. “This hurts, Mac. Obviously, I want you to have this amazing opportunity. I would never want you to pass something like this up because hockey is your dream, just like you wouldn’t want me to pass up an art program abroad because it’s mine. But you went into this knowing you might not be here come May and didn’t tell me. I fell in love with you, I’m in love with you, and now I find out you could be across the ocean. We’re supposed to be a team. You’re supposed to be honest with me, even when it’s hard, but you weren’t.”
“It’s not that I don’t trust you, Fee.”
“But that’s how it feels.” I sigh, desperately trying to parse through the torrent of emotions. I’m scared, I’m angry, I’m hurt. “I love you, Mac.”
“I love you, too, so much—”
“But I’m really upset right now,” I admit. “And I need time to process, but I can’t do that here.”
“Do you need me to take you back to your apartment? Or maybe to Cammie’s or Enid’s?” He chews his bottom lip.
“I can’t do this with you right now.” Not without aiming this anger at him and potentially saying something I’ll regret later. “I need fresh air and some space.” I stuff my things into my backpack. The tears are already falling. Part of me just wants to hide from this, but the logical, pragmatic part knows I can’t, and that I also can’t unpack my feelings when I’m here with Mac. I stand and sling my backpack over my shoulder. “I have to go.”
“Can I walk you out?” He looks so forlorn, like he’s feeling the same panic as me, but I can’t make this easier for him. Not when I’ve been blindsided like this.
He moves in like he’s about to hug me, but I put a hand up to stop him. “Don’t, please.”
“Ophelia.” He laces his fingers behind his neck. “Fuck. Please.”
“This was always going to hurt, but now I love you and that pain is going to be so much worse if you go away,” I whisper, then brush past him, rushing down the hall before the tears start in earnest.
I’m grateful no one is in the living room when I reach the main floor. I pull on my coat and slide my feet into my boots with blurred vision. As soon as I’m on the sidewalk, the real tears start. I pull my phone out and bring up my sister’s contact.