"Before that, asshole. You were worried before that."
"So what? I cared for her … that's a natural reaction."
"Care for her," Garrett says with finality.
"What?"
"Present tense. Care. For. Her."
The fucker is starting to really irritate me. "So what?"
"Sooooo," he drawls. "I'm tired of you moping around with your heart flayed open. Win your girl back."
"No," I say quickly. "It was for the best."
"Best for who?" Garrett asks incredulously.
"For me," I say with determination.
"Yeah … and how's that working out for you?"
I don't answer because I don't know what to say. My life has gotten immensely shittier since I walked out of Sutton's life a little over two weeks ago. My game hasn't improved, my dad is riding my ass again and I suspect he may be drinking, and the only good thing I had going for me is nothing more than a ghost of a memory.
"I'm fine," I say, without a lick of conviction in my voice.
But I'm truthful to my soul when I think, I'm far from fine. I'm miserable.
"I'm going to let you in on a little secret," Garrett says as he leans forward. "You are utterly lost and it breaks my fucking heart to see it."
"You're such a poet," I sneer, only to hide the fact that his words hit deep.
"I'm serious, man. And how could you not be? You cut out of your life a beautiful woman who loves your cranky ass. You have to be miserable is the way I see it."
"What do you know?" I say with as snide a look as I can muster. "Mr. Love 'Em and Leave 'Em is now a philosopher on love."
"Not at all," he answers smoothly. "I just happen to be one smart motherfucker, and I know something good when I see it."
I pick up my bottle and take a healthy swig of beer. We have a rare two days off in a row and I'm killing time with Garrett in a bar because I'll just sit depressed in my apartment otherwise. It seems any downtime I have is spent thinking about Sutton.
It is, without a doubt, the dumbest thing I've ever done in my life, cutting her loose. I was so wrapped up in my own misery that I couldn't see what I had standing right in front of me.
And I was scared.
Scared of giving up that carefully controlled life, of letting in the potential for hurt when I had been hurt enough.
Sutton was absolutely right. I'm a fucking coward.
I miss her so much.
So very fucking much, and my body aches with emptiness.
I put Sutton last in my list of devotions when she should have been number one. Yes, my priorities were screwed up, made even worse by the fact she fulfilled me more than any hockey career could, and she was the only one who truly knew what I was going through with my father.
None of it matters, though. Because as sure as I'm sitting here, there's not a doubt in my mind I fucked this up beyond repair. I did the same thing to her that Brandon did. I made it clear she wasn't good enough at that moment in time. Brandon wanted to go chase some tail, and I wanted to go chase some sort of peace that was never on the path that I chose.
"Dude, where did you go?" Garrett breaks into my thoughts, snapping his fingers in front of my face.
Shaking my head, I mumble, "Nowhere."
"Yeah … remember that part where I told you I was one smart motherfucker? Well, I'm going to go out on a limb here and say you were silently agreeing with me that you made a dumbass move and you were mulling over the thought that you really couldn't fix the problem."
My jaw drops open just a little. "What are you? Like a fucking mind reader or something?"
Garrett grins at me and taps his temple with his forefinger. "Smart. Mother. Fucker."
"Okay, fine. I admit it. I screwed up. It will probably go down as the single dumbest thing I've ever done in my life. But it's done. I can't fix it."
"Chickenshit" is all he says.
"What is it with people questioning my courage?" I grumble.
"Because if you don't fight for her, it's a pussy move. You might as well strap on a pink jockstrap next game."
Rubbing my temple and staring blankly across the bar-because Garrett sometimes has a way of inducing a migraine-I try to think of a good comeback. Garrett doesn't give me the opportunity, though.
"Besides, I have it on good authority that you won't even have to grovel to get her back."
My eyes snap to his. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, I asked Sutton point-blank what it would take to fix this shit."
"And?" I prompt.