MISCONDUCT | HS |

FOUR

Harry

I hate it.

Watching Dalton turn her back to me and walk away.

Letting out a long breath, I watch as the blonde man beside her takes one last look at me before following her back towards the tunnel that leads back to the training rooms.

"Fuck."

Shaking my head, I look down at the ice beneath my skates before using the strong muscles in my legs to propel me backwards.

Making my way next to Morgan Phillips and Gabriel Moreau, we join the rest of the team as we listen to Coach Jenkins close out our morning skate. Although, it doesn't really matter how hard I try to pay attention considering it's nearly impossible for me.

Instead the only thing I can think about is the cold and empty look deep in those verdant eyes, the same look that seems to keep me up at night.

I haven't even figured out how to even begin to repair the damage that caused the relationship we had to fracture, that crack running deep between us right down to the bone.

Plenty of times in my life I have seen the consequences of my own actions, things I've tried to repair. However, for the first time, it felt like there wasn't a solution that could bridge the nearly six year gap that stood between Dalton and I.

If I had just never said that—

"Hello? Styles?" Waving a glove in front of my face, I look at Morgan as he stands in front of me. "You alright there?"

I laugh, rolling my eyes. "Of course I am."

Not.

"I said your name like three times and I was worried." Moving backwards, he flashes me the smile that's plastered all over the city. "Some of the players are coming over to my house tonight so I wanted to see if you had any plans."

"No, no plans for me." Stepping off the ice and over the barrier, I follow him as we make our way down the hallways with the flow of our teammates. "If anything I was just planning on going for a run and then unpacking a few things."

"It'll be fun. Steaks, a movie, plus my wife is dying to kick off the season." A smile crosses his face when he mentions her. "You don't have to stay the whole time, but just come on over."

"Okay— Yeah, yeah." Stepping into the locker room and tugging my gloves off, I place them in the space with my name along the top. "I'll be there. Just text me the address."

Grabbing my phone from the top shelf, I hand it over to Morgan as he sticks his own gloves under his arm. "I'm just going to text myself from here. Once I get out of the therapy room with Cooper, I'll send you the address."

"Sounds good." Ignoring the urge to pretend like I need something worked out in some recovery therapy, I swallow thickly and nod. "I'll see you and everyone else tonight."

With a quick wave, we both go our separate ways as we clean up after practice, the invitation popping up in my texts almost as soon as I pull into my own driveway.

I still had a few hours before I needed to be there, so in the meantime maybe some boxes would get unpacked.

Maybe this space would feel more inviting.

Hopefully it would feel like home.

_________

1075.

My thumb moves across the keypad at the end of a long drive, one that leads up to the sprawling estate that belongs to the captain of the Comets.

After I got home, it took some convincing to get ready to even make my way over here. Sure they had invited me, but at the same time there was just something about it that made me nervous.