Reckless King

by Maya Hughes

  I pushed off the wall, trying to figure out how to get her to talk to me. I needed to finish the semester. I didn’t care if she gave me a D, but we’d have to talk eventually. I needed to see her so badly the pain woke me up at night.

  Fixing things was all I seemed to be doing lately. Hockey was the only place that worked. Even then that had a hell of a lot more to do with the guys than it did with me. My shoes scuffed the tile as I rounded the corner and smacked right into the woman who occupied so much of my mind it was hard to remember to eat.

  The books in her arms went flying, and I reached out to steady her. Her eyes were wide until she knew she wasn’t going to bite it on the floor, and then her eyes narrowed and she stepped back, shaking off my hand. I expected nothing less, but that didn’t mean it didn’t still hurt.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled, squeezing the back of my neck.

  She tilted her head and peered up at me. The emotions swimming in her eyes made me wish for so many different things, but most of all that I’d kept her out of my grief. When you’re drowning, it’s hard not to cling to the person who you haven’t been able to get out of your head when they are holding out their hand to you with love in their eyes.

  The hurt you gave was the hurt you got. I fisted my hands at my sides to resist the urge to do anything that might hurt her any more. She crouched to pick up her things scattered on the floor at the same time I did, and we narrowly avoided smacking our heads together.

  My hand brushed against one of her notebooks before she whipped it away and added it to the stack balanced on her bent legs.

  “I didn’t think you’d come.” She stood straight and breezed past me. The cinnamon-and-sugar smell was like it always was and made me think of cinnamon rolls on a cold winter’s day. Her black waves were tucked up on top of her head, and her jeans hugged her hips, making my fingers itch to touch her.

  “I was thinking the same thing.”

  She jammed her key into the lock like it had wronged her. The door opened, and she stepped inside.

  I followed behind her. After this semester was over, she could pretend she’d never met me and continue the life she’d been on the path to. A master's, PhD, professorship and one that wasn’t wrapped up in my ability to screw over the people I cared about.

  She stood behind the desk, using it like a shield with her arms over her chest.

  “You didn’t answer my emails. I wasn’t sure how we should do this.”

  “I’m not going to fail you if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  A fraction of my worry lightened, but the biting edge to her tone made the blood pound in my veins. “I never thought for a second you’d do that. I know you’re not like that.”

  “And you think you know me well enough to make that decision? You think that after a few months, you know who I am? I don’t even know who I am.” She lifted her eyebrow.

  “I know you’re not someone who’d be vindictive because you can.” I stood in front of the desk with the edge digging into my thighs.

  “Maybe I should be.” She sat on her seat and opened her bag, dragging a few folders out. “But you’re right, and I’m not. You’ve pretty much finished your project, and I read over your final write-up. I’m going to get one of the other professors in the department to read it over and give me their recommendation. While I like to think I can be completely impartial, who the hell knows.” She threw her hands up and slid the stack across the table to me.

  My gaze darted from her to the paper.

  “Read it. This will be the last time we meet.”

  My head snapped up. “There are still three weeks left in the semester.”

  “This was all about it being flexible for you, right? I’m sure you’re busy with the championship coming up. We can finish anything else by email.” Her eyes were shuttered and guarded.

  “Kara…can we talk about this?”

  Her eyes dropped, and she squeezed them shut.

  My lips parted, but the words died in my throat when her eyes snapped back up to mine.

  “Talk about what, Heath? How you broke the little cold war we had going on and then threw me away once you’d made it past your time of need?”

  “Is that what you think? That I don’t still need you? That I don’t still crave you so badly it makes it hard for me to think of anything else. That your heart wasn’t the only one broken and held together with shitty glue and tape?”

  “You’re the one who did it. You left me standing there and ran away from me.” The accusation in her voice lashed at my soul.

  “Because I could have hit you! Your asshole colleague saw us, and I was trying to protect you and the career you have ahead of you.” There were so many reasons I’d left. It should have been simple and easy, but nothing in my life seemed to be going that way lately.

  “I didn’t ask for your protection! I didn’t ask for you to fall on any swords for me.” She shot up out of her chair and pressed her hands into the top of the desk. “I’m an adult. I’m fully aware of my decisions and what kind of result they can have, even if it’s a shitty one. I was there for you because I wanted to be. It was a choice I made!”

  “And it was a stupid one. I shouldn’t have gone to you that night, and I shouldn’t have had you by my side at Preston’s memorial.”

  Her head snapped back like I’d slapped her, but I continued.

  “I’m not going to be the reason you don’t get to have your dream. I’m not going to be the person who stopped you from getting your PhD and teaching.”

  “No, you’re not. I am. I quit the program.”

  My eyes got wide, and I recovered from that kick to the stomach. “What?”

  “I sent in my letter withdrawing from the program earlier this week. I’m not continuing on to get my PhD.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “Because I didn’t want it anymore. And it wasn’t until I met you that I realized how much I didn’t want it.”

  My chest was tighter than the last time I’d had the wind knocked out of me on the ice.

  “But that was your dream.” I couldn’t be responsible for this, for taking away something that meant this much to her.

  “Dreams change, Heath. They change all the time. First it was a PhD and teaching.” She swallowed and stared at me. “Then it was you.” Her voice cracked.

  I took a step toward her, and she bolted. She snatched her bag off the desk, and the door slammed between us. The silence of the room pressed in on me. I needed to go after her, but my legs wouldn’t work. She’d given up on getting her PhD and teaching for me? I was her dream turned into a nightmare. She deserved someone better than a ticking time bomb. She’d been mine since the second I’d laid eyes on her, and I’d broken her heart.

  33

  Kara

  Two weeks later, I cracked open my eyes and stared up at the ceiling. The summer breeze flowed through my open window. The nighttime sounds of crickets and an occasional car were all I could hear. Somehow I’d made it through. Somehow I’d managed not to crack and ball my eyes out in front of him. I’d saved that for when I got home. How did I look the guy who’d stolen way more than a piece of my heart in the eye and tell him he was my dream, and all he could think about was how the one thing I’d done for us to be together was a mistake?

  I hadn’t heard from Heath in nearly a week, not even a missed message. The team was doing better. I’d followed the stats. They’d won the last three games, and he hadn’t gotten a penalty since. The championship game was tonight.

  Pride warred with the raw ache deep in the center of my chest. I’d been the one to walk away this time. It hadn’t felt any better. Hadn’t healed the ragged wounds that were still there. Making plans for the future had helped me cope, but it was all I could do to get out of bed.

  This was a rollercoaster I needed to get off. Figure things out for myself. I couldn’t help piece him back together when I was broken. I would never regret being there for him when everything happ
ened with Preston, but I needed to be my own life preserver.

  Writing had been my respite. The files on my computer multiplied daily and on the days when the words didn’t come, I took my old words and typed them until my fingers ached. The clarity was coming, slowly. I knew what I didn’t want: The life I’d pretended would make everything perfect when the truth had been staring me in the face all this time.

  I shifted from foot to foot in the doorway of the living room. Mom and Dad were curled up together on the couch watching TV. The interview I’d gone on earlier today cemented the decision in my mind, and there was no going back now.

  Taking a deep breath, I stepped into the room.

  “Hey, sweetie. Do you want some popcorn?” Mom held out the bowl to me, shaking the buttery mixture under my nose.

  My stomach clenched tight, and I shook my head. “No, I’m good.”

  “Oh wow, she’s got her serious face on.” Dad sat up straight, and Mom put both her feet on the floor.

  Bile shot up my throat, and I clamped my lips together. Keeping my eyes down, I sat on the coffee table in front of them. My fingers were numb and shook as the nervous energy shot through me and made me light-headed. I clasped my hands together.

  “You’re starting to scare us, Kara. Get it all out there and tell us what’s going on.” Mom stared at me with worry in her eyes.

  “I—” I cleared my throat against the tightening fist wrapped around it. I was about to shatter their dreams for me, and deeply disappoint them. I swallowed again. “I’ve decided I’m not going to continue on with the PhD program.”

  They stared at me with wide eyes for a few beats, and then they both nearly blinded me with their smiles.

  “I’m so happy for you!” Mom hopped up from the couch and hugged me.

  This definitely hadn’t been the response I expected.

  “You’re not upset?”

  She dropped her arms and sat beside Dad.

  “No, honey. Your mom and I have both gone through advanced degrees, and we know the pressure it puts on you if you’re not one hundred percent committed to it, if you don’t live and love whatever you’re studying. We’ve seen so many unhappy people push through for the same of finishing. They are the most unhappy. A total mess and feel trapped. If you’re feeling like it’s not for you, then it’s better to know now rather than later.” Dad’s eyes were filled with sincerity and so much love.

  How could I have ever doubted how this would go? That they’d disown me or kick me out because I didn’t want to follow in their footsteps. Guilt burned in my gut. That wasn’t who they were. It wasn’t the type of person they’d raised me to be.

  And there was another thing. I dropped my gaze and picked at my hands. “Angie contacted me.”

  “Oh.” The small noise came from Mom.

  “I’m thinking about meeting up with her. She said she’s clean and sober and she has been for a few years and she wanted to speak to me.” I peered up at them.

  “You’ve been holding onto a lot, huh?” Dad chuckled, and that retying knot in my stomach eased.

  “I have. I didn’t know how to bring it up to you. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do, and I didn’t want to say anything until I’d made my decision. It wasn’t something I came to lightly, but I’d like to talk to her. The last time wasn’t exactly a memory I’d like to be my last of her.”

  “You don’t owe us an explanation, Kara.” Dad took my hand. His warm grasp and weathered skin from countless times of scrubbing in comforted me.

  “You’re an adult, and she is your mother. We aren’t offended or sad that you want to see her. It’s natural that you’d want to, especially if she’s sober like you said she is.” Mom’s eyes seemed to reflect the same hope in my heart. That it was true.

  “I think I’m going to do it.”

  “Whatever you need to do. Do you want us to be there? Do you want to meet her here?” Dad squeezed my hand.

  I shook my head vigorously. “No, I’m not sure yet.” I bit my lip. “I will figure it out soon, but I wanted to let you know.” Standing up, I was immediately enveloped in my parents’ arms. The ones that had calmed a scared preteen wondering what her place was in the world provided the same comfort to a scared twenty-something trying to figure out where that might still be.

  “I love you guys.”

  “We love you too.”

  Climbing the steps to my room, I glanced at my phone. Message after message from Heath. The ones I’d hoped for a couple few days ago, hell maybe even a few hours ago were rolling in, but I didn’t want to talk to him. I couldn’t talk to him until I knew I was fully immunized from the feelings he evoked in me even. I probably only needed another few decades to figure out how to stop them. Seemed like as good a time as any to reply. I set a reminder for 2058 and sat at my desk.

  My fingers flew across the keys, and I poured even more of my thoughts and emotions out onto the keyboard, and the words formed in front of my face. That’s one thing I’d say for having your heart ripped out. It made those words flow quicker than I could type them. Recovery by opening those wounds and pouring as much salt into them as possible. Salting them like you salted the fields soothing could grow there anymore, and eventually the hurt would stop.

  34

  Heath

  I sat in the Dean’s office, not the regular dean’s, but the big dean with a capital D, Dean. My leg bounced up and down. My fingers dug into my thigh, and my sneakers squeaked on the tile floor. I felt like I’d been sent to the principal’s office, only worse. I’d expected the whole team to be called in to meet with him since it was game day, but it was just me.

  We’d made it to the championship with almost no help from me. Coach called me off—well, shouted louder than I’ve ever heard him shout—to get me off the ice. My speed was crap. My passing was abysmal, and my shots on goal were shit. It was like I’d been replaced by someone who’d barely played.

  Only a few more hours until I’d have to skate to center ice and try not to skate like it was my first time around the rink.

  “Mr. Taylor, Dean Morrison will see you now.” The older secretary startled me, and I shot up out of the chair and followed her down the hall.

  “We are all rooting for you. We’ve been following you all this entire season. I’m so proud of you boys.” Her kind words didn’t do much to calm me down.

  “Ah, Mr. Taylor.” The Dean stood from behind his desk and walked around the front, shaking my hand in a firm grip.

  “I wanted to congratulate you on a riveting season, especially with everything that happened in the New Year.”

  My throat tightened, and I nodded. Riveting was not how I’d describe it. Soul crushing. Blindingly painful so you’d shoot up out of bed in the middle of the night clutching your side. Those were more fitting descriptions. His voice melded words together into a blanket that threatened to sedate me in the chair.

  “I was especially surprised that you were taking extra courses this semester with everything that was going on.”

  My ears perked up at that, and my eyebrows scrunched down. “Extra courses?”

  “Your independent study. Well, I guess it could be any of your courses.”

  “I don’t understand. We need to take five courses to be considered full-time.”

  “Not for second semester seniors. Didn’t your advisor go over all this with you?” He clicked his pen and made a note on the file on his desk. There was a crack in the window. The window overlooking the sunny, flower-filled meadow with a distant figure with her back to me and wind blowing through her hair.

  My heart pounded so loud I thought he’d glance up from what he was writing to see if someone was beating a drum.

  “No, he didn’t. I don’t need five courses to graduate? To be eligible to play this semester?” I leaned forward in my seat. The arms of the chair groaned under my grip.

  He glanced up and smiled. “No, not at all. Second semester seniors are only required to take two classes to stay enr
olled and graduate on time as long as all the other graduation requirements have been met.”

  And that window turned into a door that had been kicked wide open.

  “I need to drop a class.” The words erupted from my mouth so fast and forceful, the Dean jerked back.

  “The withdrawal period ended a few weeks ago, Mr. Taylor.” He furrowed his eyebrows.

  If I dropped the course, it could never come back to bite her, and my eligibility for the semester would never be under scrutiny. They couldn’t retroactively take away our wins, and she’d be able to stay in the program. Even if she said she didn’t want it anymore, there was a difference between voluntarily leaving something behind and never being able to go back to it.

  “If there is anything you can do, I know it would help take some of the pressure off for the championship game tonight. I’m begging you here, sir.”

  I’d get down on my knees if I needed to.

  Jumping in my car after my meeting in the Dean’s office, I peeled out of my parking spot making a beeline for the only place I needed to be. It had been a week since I’d seen her. Too long. Way too long.

  I parked my car on the street. The houses were all bright and cheerful with red doors and colorful shutters. It might have looked unassuming, but this place was swimming in money. Walking up the pristinely paved sidewalk, I stepped onto the flagstone walkway leading up to the front door.

  After searching through the student directory, I’d found Kara’s address. With communication effectively cut off, I’d had to go to desperate measures to finally talk to her. I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans. The drive over had been a white-knuckle ride where I’d nearly talked myself out of it at least five times. What if I show up and she slams the door in my face? Should I wait? Isn’t this kind of impulsiveness what got me into trouble in the first place?