Kaleb

Time keeps slipping away, and with that, my sanity. No matter how many times Mel and I linger at the beach or go out on spontaneous dates, nothing can dull the consistent ache in my chest.

It doesn't bode well for my stats in hockey, either. Based on public opinions and the media, I'm the worst trade that Vancouver ever made. There have also been meetings. Meetings that have signified warnings of being sent down to the AHL, which is not good for someone who's been playing in the NHL since he was eighteen. When the crowd and media turn against you, the space you've created for yourself becomes toxic. Whenever I'm about to take a shot or make a pass, I'm questioning myself, wondering if I'm doing the right thing. It feels like anything I do will be frowned upon by the public and media.

What worries me is living alone. Do I even have that ability? Coping also has proven to be difficult in my lifetime. When my parents divorced... although I hid plenty of sadness behind my jokes and smiles, it affected me. I was dependent on Ella and my friends throughout high school. Without them, I don't think things would've gone well for me. Addiction's been an issue in generations throughout my family, too. What if I can't resist the temptation to numb my feelings with alcohol?

After tying my skates, I lean back against the wall and rub my face.

Shea nudges me. "You good, KJ?"

"Same old, same old," I sigh. "Playing shitty hockey."

His sympathetic glance makes anger stir in my blood. I hate being pitied. But then I remind myself about the conversation we had. He's not pitying me. He's trying to give me support, and I have to accept that. Not only because it's all he can do but also because I need it.

"You're not playing shitty hockey. Sometimes all that matters is showing up and contributing." He squeezes my shoulder. "I can't play hockey without you, man."

I roll my eyes, but the smile still breaks through. "You're just trying to make me feel useful."

He pokes me in the ribs. "It's working, isn't it?"

"Yeah," I admit.

Shea claps me on the back, his smile mirroring mine. "We've got this. You're gonna blow the minds of the fans and media tonight. Four goals, bro. Mark my words."

"Now you're taking it too far."

He raises his eyebrows. "Want to make a bet?"

"I thought you learned your lesson with bets."

Shea tosses his head back and laughs. "This one is for fun, trust me."

I tip my head to the side, cocking an eyebrow. "I'll be the judge of that."

"Okay," he shrugs, turning to me. He rests his forearms against his thighs. "If you score four goals tonight, I'll buy all the alcohol for tonight's get together. And the pizza. If not, you buy. Sound fair?" He holds his hand out. "We got a deal?"

Honestly, it's a pretty casual bet. But casual sounds simplistic. And simplistic sounds more appealing than anything that's happened in the past five months.

I take Shea's hand and give it a good shake. "Deal."

"Game on, Jones," he grins.

*  *  *

I don't score four goals, but I get a hat trick and two assists. It's one of my best games since the start of the season, and it remedies some of the internal turmoil I'm dealing with. After the game, Shea and I part ways to get ready for the party tonight. Ella's friend Abbey is returning from her trip to Europe. Ella wanted to take Abbey out for dinner and maybe have a girl's night in, but Melody convinced her to have a party. Then Brenna decided it should be at her house. From there, things spiralled out of control.

Now Shea and I are collecting booze, pizza, ingredients for s'mores, firewood, and whatever else they've asked for. Tonight'll be a wild time, which makes me wonder how hungover I'll be when Shea and I board the plane tomorrow morning for our Eastern trip with the team. Or if I'll be hungover at all. I haven't decided if I'll drink or not yet.

When I arrive at home to change, Mel is already ready to go. She's dressed in a smoky grey winter coat with a white toque, gloves, and scarf. Her white-blonde hair falls down in waves around her face and over her shoulders. The faux-leather leggings she's wearing hug her skinny legs. Every time she takes a step, the winter boots squeak.

"Hey," I say, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

She pulls me into her arms. For the millionth time, I try to not think about how fragile she feels in my arms. "Someone kicked ass tonight."

I smile, breathing in her scent. "I had a burst of energy."

Stepping back, she cocks an eyebrow. "Or did Shea take my advice and make a bet?"

My eyes widen. "It was you! I had my suspicions. At first, I thought Brenna was the one who put him up to it. Then I realized how mundane the bet was."

She punches my arm. "Shut up. It still worked. Mundane or not."

I pull her into another hug, kissing her forehead and whispering, "Thank you, Mel. I mean it." When we break the hug, she's smiling with mischief. It's a smile that goes straight to my head and makes my body react. Especially when she runs her thumb over the back of my hand. I don't know what it is, but caressing someone's hand seems so intimate to me. I clear my throat. "Mel. We don't have time. Abbey'll be arriving any minute. Ella, Shea, and Brenna are already there."

"No shit," Mel laughs. "Brenna and Shea live there. Ella likes to be early." She slides her hands down to my dress pants. "You, on the other hand, are always late."

My mouth pulls to one side and I brush the underside of her chin with my knuckles. Then I tug at the tassels of her scarf. "It would be a shame to undo all your hard work."

Mel discards her gloves and removes her scarf and toque. "Good thing I'm a robust being."

I bite my bottom lip. "Well, you know I'll never give up the opportunity to fuck you. Are you sure? We could save it for later. I'm okay with that."

Keeping her gaze locked with mine, she slides her hands down my body and unbuttons my pants. Then she pulls the zipper down. When she slips her hand beneath the fabric and palms me, I close my eyes and groan.

"What do you think the answer is?" she teases.

Stepping forward, I pin Mel against the wall and press my lips to hers. "This won't take long."

Then we undress each other, stripping down to nothing but her bra and my dress shirt. Partially naked, she wraps her legs around my waist. When I push inside of her, welcoming the warmth and tightness of her pussy, I press my forehead to hers and groan. Having sex with Mel never gets old. The blaze between us is frenzied, and it always feels like the first time. We're an uncontrollable force to be reckoned with. And I love how her nails dig through my dress shirt, giving me bruises like her fingerprints. How my hand fits against the small of her back.  

I roll my hips in slow, forceful movements, trying to prolong

"Kal," she whines. "Faster. Harder. Please."

My palm presses against the wall behind her as I oblige. The other palm presses against her back, supporting her. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I'm worried about Mel. If I'm being too rough. If this is extracting too much energy from her body. Until now, the sex, as frequent as its been, has been slow and passionate.

"I'm okay, Kal," she breathes between kisses. "I'm not made of glass. You don't need to hold back. You're holding back."

I take her word for it. Thrusting my hips forward, Mel breaks the kiss and knocks her head against the wall, moaning my name. It spurs me on. The pace and thrusts become harder and faster until we're frantically begging for the high.

When it does, we crash together, tangled in each other's arms and panting. I press my forehead against Mel's chest and breathe in her perfume, ignorant of the sweat soaking my hairline. All I want to do is stand here and memorize this moment.

When I set Mel down, she stumbles a little. I keep my hands on her hips until the weakness in her knees fades. She giggles. "I need to clean up before we go."

My gaze focuses between her legs. She's an absolute mess, and I can't help but feel smug. A grin tugs at my lips. Guiding my hand south, I run my fingers along her inner thigh, feeling the remnants of our frantic sex.

"You're right," I grin. "You're a mess. Thanks to me."

Mel slaps my chest. "Don't let that ego get any bigger, Kal."

Smiling, I pull Mel into a hug. My lips graze the shell of her ear. "I love you, Mel."

She shivers. "I love you, too, Kal."

*  *  *

When Abbey arrives at the party, she's so shocked she cries. Watching Mel and the rest of the girls welcome her home makes me feel content. Things like these distract Mel and prevent her from dwelling over what the future holds. Moments like these are the ones I want to remember, where she's all laughs and smiles.

Right now, the ladies are gathered around the drink-slash-snack bar Shea and Isaac set up. They're snacking on ketchup chips, fruit, and an assortment of cheeses and meats while listening to Abbey's travel stories.

The three of us—me, Shea, and Isaac—are sitting beside the campfire, enjoying our beers. We've been talking mostly about hockey, but now I want to know how Isaac's date with Ella went.

I give Isaac a nudge. "How did the date with Ella go?"

Isaac takes a small sip of his beer. "Good. She's an amazing person, and we're going to hang out again soon."

Smiling, I clap him on the back. "Taking it slow. Good man. Ella needs that."

Even if I can feel jealousy tugging at my gut.

Where this jealousy is coming from, I'm not sure. But every time Isaac talks about Ella, it gets stronger and stronger. It makes me wonder what the fuck is wrong with me. I'm married! I shouldn't be jealous that Ella's close to potentially finding happiness. That's why I've decided this jealousy stems from the persistent urge to protect Ella. She's been through enough shit with shitty men. Although I trust Isaac, Ella's an important person in my life. It's my job to support her. 

It's strange that Shea hasn't made a comment. He's protective of Ella, too. I thought he'd interrogate Isaac tonight. But all he's doing is sitting in his camping chair and rubbing his jaw. His gaze flicks from Isaac to Ella several times before I detect a hint of surprise on his face. It's a subtle twitch of his jaw that tells me something's up.

He looks at Ella one more time before picking at the label of his beer.

Isaac looks at me and smiles. "Thanks, KJ. It means a lot. And yes, I agree it's good we're taking it slow. Like you said, Ella's been through enough."

Although his words are airy, I know the conversation is over. Which makes my curiosity more demanding. Now all I want to do is grab Shea, drag him inside, and tell him to spill the beans. I want to know

Shea clears his throat. "Melody looks fantastic, KJ."

The mention of her name makes me lose my train of thought. Instead, I focus on her. She's dressed in her winter gear again. Chemo's been a rough journey for her. She's had her trials, gotten sick a few times, and sometimes complains about how long it takes the nurses to insert the IV. One thing Mel's thankful for is how chemo hasn't affected her hair too much. Aside from some minimal thinning, her hair remains long and gorgeous.

Her value doesn't come from how long or thick or shiny her hair is. But if it's important to Mel, then it's important to me, too.

"She does," I reply. Hope stirs in the depths of my gut. Despite her cancer being terminal, there are moments where I feel powerful sensations of hope. When Mel has energy or when things are going well, I sometimes think we can beat this. Maybe I'm foolish. Naïve.

If I am, I don't care.

Hope is a way of coping. It's something I need in order to stay sane. I have to hope that after the storm hits and the waves settle, things will get better.

Without her.

"How are the treatments going?" Isaac asks.

I give him a one-shoulder shrug. "They're what we expected. Prolonging the inevitable. Mel just needs to meet the baby."

Shea's knee bounces. "Brenna's almost at seven months." He adjusts his toque. "I can't believe it's March next week. That she's due at the beginning of May. What the fuck happened to the time?"

Isaac and I exchange a glance. Shea's about to spiral out of control if we don't intervene.

"Dude." I set my drink down and lean forward. "You raised Chelsea. Don't sell yourself short."

He lowers his voice. "What if something goes wrong? What if the baby is premature?"

Isaac clears his throat. "You never know what'll happen, Shea. But it's best not to look at the dark stuff. It fucks with your head."

I snap my fingers and point at him. "Agreed."

Even if it makes me a hypocrite.

Just then, the sound of snow crunching beneath boots fills the air. We look up.

Mel saunters over. Her cheeks and nose are pink from the cold. She sits down on my lap and wraps her arms around my neck. The flicker of the fire makes shadows dance across her angelic face. "I think I'm gonna head home, Kal. I'm tired."

I nod. "Let's go, then."

She shakes her head. "You stay. Have some fun. I can walk across the street. Spend some time with your friends."

My tongue feels heavy. My friends will be with me while we're on the road, but my teammates aren't my only friends. It's been a while since Brenna, Ella, Shea, and I got to spend some time together. There's just something about sitting around a campfire and reminiscing about past adventures.

"Are you sure?" I ask.

Mel dips her head down and kisses me. "Positive," she whispers.

Isaac raises his hand. "I could walk Melody back to your house. I'm going to head out, too. Unlike you and Shea, I need my eight hours of sleep. Otherwise, travelling will be a nightmare."

Mel smiles and claps her hands together. "There you go! Now you don't have to worry."

Caution constricts in my chest. It's not directed at Isaac—I trust him. Instead, it's directed at Mel. She's a little too bubbly right now, and it's not because of alcohol. She has touched no alcohol tonight.

"Are you feeling okay?" I ask.

"Like I said," she replies, "I'm just tired. I need to sleep."

Because of the defensive note in her voice, I decide to let it go. "Okay." I press another kiss to her lips. "I'll see you when I get back. Shouldn't be too long."

She squeezes my hand. "Take your time, Kal."

Watching Mel leave makes my heart fill with sorrow. One day, she'll walk out and I'll never see her again.

*  *  *

When midnight rolls around, Ella and I are the last two sitting beside the campfire. She's been quiet all night, nursing the same drink since she arrived. The others fell for her act, but not me. Everything about her personality is off key tonight.

Picking up the bottle of whisky, I tip it in her direction. "Want something stronger?"

Ella glances at the bottle in her hand and sighs. "Sure. Why not?" She sets the beer on the foldable table. Then she grabs her Yeti mug and dumps the remnants of hot chocolate into the fire. The wood spits and sizzles, but continues to burn and throw off lots of heat. I watch as she uses water from her water bottle to rinse out the mug. The fire sizzles again, and then she hands to cup to me.

From the cooler, I gather some ice and add it to the mug. Then I pour the whisky overtop. The ice clinks against the metal. I secure the lid and hand the mug back to her. She takes a long sip without cringing or wrinkling her nose.

I loosen a low whistle. "Someone's lost in thought tonight."

"Just thinking," Ella sighs. "About everything. Life in general, y'know?"

Leaning forward, I grab a log from the woodpile and toss it atop the fire. It doesn't take long for it to ignite. I watch as the flames lick the grain of the wood while sipping my drink.

"Life is shitty," I nod.

Ella sighs again. "Kaleb. Are you okay? You get this question enough, but I want to know. And don't lie to me. I can always tell when you're lying."

I stare into her eyes. They're clear and starry. She holds every emotion in her eyes, and each one is so potent it's difficult to not admire them. How can a man break her heart when she has eyes like this? Why would you ever want to see them filled with sadness?

"I'm not okay," I admit. Another sip of my strong drink. "What happens when she's gone, Ellie? How do I pick up the pieces? She's my life. I can't start over without her. When I proposed to her, I thought we'd die together when we were old. Like some fucking Disney movie." Her nickname slips between my lips before I can fathom it. And I don't fail to notice the flush of colour across her cheeks. I quickly continue on. "Why does life like to break the rules?"

Her voice is soft when she asks, "What rules?"

I throw one hand up in the air. "We're supposed to be happy and fall in love and go on adventures! Isn't that what people alway say? So why the fuck does life like to impede on peoples' plans and break the rules? Breaking the rules isn't fair to our hearts. They go through enough as it is. Fuck!"

My outburst doesn't surprise Ella. She reaches over and takes my hand, squeezing it. "Breaking the rules complicates things."

I lean a little closer to her. "You know what else is shitty?" My words are slurring.

"What?"

My thumb grazes the back of her hand. "High school. You and I missed out on so much, and I hate that the curse of shitty men still affects you. You deserve so much better."

Ella frowns. "You weren't shitty."

"I've always been shitty."

Somehow, Ella and I have gotten closer. I can smell her perfume and the alcohol on her breath. The combination of floral and spice makes my head spin. It's intoxicating.

"You were never shitty," she whispers.

My lips graze the soft curve of her jaw. Her skin is familiar to my lips. Although Ella and I never fucked, we fucked around. I can remember what she tasted like on my tongue. How her mouth felt wrapped around my dick. The way she cried my name out while I was going down on her. I remember the good times and the bad times. How much Ella loved me.

How much I loved her.

She shoves me away and shakes her head rapidly. "No. No, Kaleb. We can't do this. It's not right. You're with Melody. This... fuck. No."

I jerk away, realizing what I've just done.

The world crashes down around me.

Although my head is spinning, I stumble to my feet, almost falling in the fire, and head for the gate. Snow crunches beneath my boots, and I almost slip several times.

Shame fills my body as I push through the gate.

Hatred burns in my blood.

Despair fills my heart.

The tears are pouring down my face before I get to the road.