Touch My Neck ✓

Chapter Twenty Five | Why does our best hockey player wear a hat not a helmet?

Eros Candreva

We won the game.

I was supposed to ask her to be my girlfriend after this, but now every time I look at her-I'm reminded of what I lost.

And its all her fault.

I throw the items in my gym bag, and I hear a figure behind me. I slowly turn around and my eyes locks with hers.

I ignore her presence.

"What I don't understand is how you grew to hate me quicker than you grew to fall for me."

I turn around, slinging my gym bag over my shoulders.

I watched as the sparkle in her eyes disappeared as I walk past her. She nodded her head, her voice barely above a whisper. "I can see I'm not wanted anymore..."

Her words struck me like a blow to the chest, each one carrying the weight of her pain and regret. She continued, her voice trembling with raw emotion.

"You know, I loved Mickey like a brother. I was there when you weren't. I slept on the couch because he was afraid of being alone. I had my lunch and dinner with him. I watched all his favourite shows just so we could have something to talk about. I went in on my days off to make him happy. I helped shower him. I helped him learn how to walk again... I did that. His death broke me. And I blame myself for that every day of my life. And I'm sorry."

Tears flowed freely down her cheeks, her pain palpable in the air around us. Her words echoed in my ears, each one a stab to my heart. My anger, my hurt, clashed with the guilt that clawed at me from within.

For a moment, I wanted to reach out, to hold her close and tell her that it wasn't entirely her fault. But the walls I had built, the walls that were supposed to protect me from getting hurt again, were too thick to crumble in that moment.

"I'm sorry," she repeated, her voice a broken whisper. "That he died, that you never even got to say goodbye- I will never be able to forgive myself for his death."

She settles the boxed gift on the floor.

Before I could gather my thoughts, before I could respond, I turned and walked away. I walked away from her pain, from my pain, and from everything that was too overwhelming to bear.

I reached my car and unlocked the door, sliding inside as I slam my fist against the steering wheel.

The sound of rain against the window accompanied my thoughts as I drove toward my parents' house for dinner. The road stretched ahead, dark and desolate, mirroring the storm that raged inside me. The confrontation with Angel had left me shaken, torn between anger and an ache of longing that I couldn't ignore.

As I pulled into the driveway, I took a deep breath, trying to push aside the turmoil that had been swirling inside me. Stepping out of the car, I headed toward the front door, my heart heavy with the weight of the past week's events.

The door opened, and there stood my mother, a warm smile on her face. "Eros, dear, you're just in time."

I forced a smile, trying to hide the storm that churned beneath the surface. "Hi, Mom."

She ushered me inside, and the comforting aroma of home-cooked food enveloped me. My father was already at the table, engrossed in a newspaper. He looked up and greeted me with a nod.

Dinner was a quiet affair, filled with polite conversation and shared anecdotes. But beneath the surface, I felt the weight of the unspoken, the ache of the things that had shattered my world.

After dinner, I excused myself and walked outside onto the porch, seeking solace in the cool night air. The rain had subsided, leaving behind a refreshing scent. I leaned against the railing, staring out into the darkness.