"Gee, Coach, you've really been working on your motivational skills," I taunt.
Pretore looks at me for a moment, eyebrows raised at my audacity, then he gives me a sly grin. "What is it? Pussy you getting not good enough? Did they discontinue your favorite ice cream brand? Fuck, maybe your panties are too tight. It's gotta be something."
I can't help it-I crack up laughing, even bend over and clutch at my stomach. When I look back up, Coach is smiling at me, but his eyes are worried. "Seriously, Alex. What can I do to get you back on track? You were playing so well … really had your shit together."
The laughter dies and bitterness wells up inside of me. "I don't know. My focus is off."
"Well, no shit, Dick Tracy. How do we get you focused again?"
"I'll work harder," I tell him quickly.
"It's not your skills and we both know it. Your slap shot doesn't need polishing-your confidence does."
"You think my confidence is gone?" I ask, surprised by his conclusion. I still feel as cocky and egocentric as ever when I step out onto the ice. Granted, I get frustrated easily, and that may take away some of my focus and drive, but surely I still have confidence.
I'm Alex Fucking Crossman … most valuable prick and all that.
"Look, buddy," Coach says, really taking on the paternal tone with me. "You need to evaluate your life … figure out what is causing you stress and get rid of it. You get into a mental funk, it's hard to break free. Don't ignore it, okay?"
His words cause me immense discomfort because there are a couple of things stressing me out, one of which is my constant worry that I'll hurt Sutton. It's something that I think about every day. The other is my father. I'm worried he'll quit rehab, start drinking and kill himself. If that happens, I don't know if I can survive the guilt, because no matter what Cameron said to me that day at breakfast, I could have stepped in long ago and gotten him help.
That was proven by the fact that when I went to Canada last week, Dad easily rolled over on me when I suggested rehab. He cried when I told him I didn't want him to die, and then I packed his bags and took him to a facility that Cameron had already arranged.
Shaking my head, I stand up and look down at Pretore. "I'll get it together. I promise."
"See that you do, kid. I expect great things from you."
Great … more pressure. Now I'm worried about letting my coach down. Things were certainly a lot easier before …
Before I cared about the game.
Before I met Sutton.
Before I stepped in to help my dad.
All of it was easier and I find myself resenting the sudden burdens placed on my doorstep. It makes me wish for easier times when I could be a loner and, if I wanted to fuck someone, Cassie would be there to give me release and then leave quickly.
Leaving Coach's office, I pull my cell phone out and see a text from Sutton.
Come over tonight.
That's all it says, but it doesn't need to say more. I didn't need the invitation either, because despite my obsessive worrying about Sutton, she's like my drug and there's no way I wasn't going to take a hit tonight. I need her to maintain some level of sanity, because just her voice coats me in soothing balm. Her touch makes me feel peaceful. When I fuck her, the world melts away and only she exists.
Making my way out to the players' parking lot, I sign a few autographs for some of the fans still lingering. Then I get in my car and head for Sutton's house.
***
When she opens the door and I see her for the first time today, I feel immersed in serenity. I forget about the shitty game and letting my team down. I forget about my dad, and my anger and my resentment. It's so easy to let it go when she's standing there looking even lovelier than when I left her bed this morning.
She smiles at me in welcome and doesn't even wait for me to walk in before she's wrapping her arms around me and giving me a hug. Standing on the threshold of her house, I let her comfort me for the shitty game, letting my team down and the mess that is my father. She doesn't know that she's comforting me for all of those things, but I'm taking it all the same.
Then she's kissing me with such delicate care that my soul twists, and it only reinforces my desire to have her, no matter what the cost.
"Come on in," she says softly and takes me by the hand.
Her living room is glowing with flickering light as the hearth crackles with a small fire and her Christmas tree-which she put up Thanksgiving Day-twinkles with multicolored lights. It looks magical and romantic, and causes me to want to just cuddle with her on the couch, which is odd because my first thought would normally be that I want to fuck her on the couch.
Leading me to the sofa, she releases my hand and I take a seat. She sits beside me and curls into my side, as I wrap my arm around her shoulder. Laying her hand on my chest, she strokes me softly through the material of my dress shirt.