At first, I went out of my mind with worry, but Stevie told me that she texted him that she had arrived and was just chilling with her mom. I called…left voice mail after voice mail, and she didn’t respond. I texted, quite desperately, begging her to talk to me.
Fucking nothing.
She went off the grid and is completely ignoring me, and every minute that has passed since then causes unbridled fury to rage through me.
I’ve taken it out on my teammates and on the game…prime example just now, letting my rage get the better of me and taking a stupid game-misconduct penalty. But fuck it. It’s too difficult to have passion for a game when my heart has had the shit beat out of it.
I should have sensed something was wrong when Olivia left. She had been somewhat withdrawn and evasive since her visit with Dr. Yoffman, particularly refusing to commit to a time frame as to when she might return. I thought it was great she was taking some time off to go visit her mom, but my own selfish desire to have her back close to me kept me hounding her for some type of game plan on her travel. She tried to come across as a free spirit, insisting she just wanted to play things by ear, wanted to take time with her mom, but deep down I sensed there was something else behind her evasiveness.
Most telling was the fact that she refused to give me those three little words again. She said them to me that night of her appointment with Dr. Yoffman…just before I went down on her and showed her how much I loved her with my tongue. But since then, she kept the words locked tight. I never heard them thereafter, not even when I took her to the airport and dropped her off for her flight.
Not after I pulled her into my arms and gave her a desperate hug, a soft kiss, told her how much I loved her.
How much I would miss her.
She dug her fingers into my shirt, holding on tight to me. Almost desperately.
She whispered, “I’ll miss you too. So much.”
Those words didn’t sound prophetic or foreboding, but in hindsight, they apparently meant something different to her than they did to me.
For me, it was merely a temporary goodbye. For her, I’m thinking it was permanent.
Of course, I don’t know for sure because she won’t fucking talk to me, and thus the reason for my rage.
Five paces from my locker, I take my stick and throw it against the wooden cubbies, where it bounces off and clatters to the floor. I shake my hands, dislodging my gloves, and sit down on the bench heavily. I take a deep breath and prepare myself for further disappointment.
Pulling my phone out of my bag, I turn it on and immediately see a waiting text. My heartbeat picks up and I jab at the text icon, hoping beyond hope it’s from Olivia.
My last text to her was meant to get her off her ass to respond to me. It was short and to the point.
Contact me or I’m getting on the next plane to Portland.
Bitter disappointment bubbles from within as I see the text isn’t from her, but rather Stevie. He’s become my sounding board…the only one who really knows how I feel about Olivia, but he’s as clueless as I am when it comes to the inner workings of Olivia’s brain. She’s refused his calls, but did send him a text that just said she needed some time alone and she’d contact him soon.
Per Alex, she sent the same message to Sutton.
For me…I get nothing from her. Fuck, that pisses me off.
While Stevie isn’t who I wanted to hear from, his text brings me a small measure of peace. When I realized my efforts to get through to Olivia via her cellphone weren’t working, I decided to circumvent that and reach out to the one person that I know is firmly in my corner.
His text was simple. Call me. I have an idea.
For the first time in days, I actually smile. It’s a devious smile, because I’m not done with Olivia yet. She may be avoiding me, but I’m going to figure a way to get to her…to make her at least talk to me. And apparently I’m going to use Stevie to help.
The sound of players stomping into the locker room filters in and I stuff my phone back into my bag.
“Samuelson…my office…now!” Pretore barks at me. I know I’m in deep shit, but I can’t seem to muster up enough energy to care about it. My thoughts are consumed by Olivia, and until I can figure out what the fuck is going through her head, nothing else really fucking matters.
—
I blew Alex off after the game. We didn’t win, so there was no celebratory party at Houlihan’s, but rather Alex invited me out to a more obscure bar where we could have a beer and “talk.” I didn’t feel like talking to him, so I took a rain check and he gave me a worried look. I ignored him and now I’m home.
Kicking my shoes off, I flop down on my couch and dial Stevie. He answers on the second ring.