Unconditionally

The Weight of It All

Arnold's POV

The next few days after Stella and I said our goodbyes were rough. I couldn't shake the look on her face, the way she clung to me like I was slipping away. And in a way, I was. Heading back home, knowing I was leaving her behind, was like trying to skate with my legs weighted down. I felt slow, heavy, and out of place.

We were supposed to be preparing for the biggest game of the season—the grand final. It should've been a time to focus, to lead my team with confidence. But all I could think about was her. The way we kissed, the way it didn't feel like some grand movie moment but something raw and real. I had to leave, and I hated it.

"Arnold, you good, man?" Jordan asked me during practice, his voice snapping me out of my daze.

I hadn't realized how zoned out I was until he pointed it out. I was usually the one calling the shots, the one barking orders and motivating the guys. But today, I could barely muster the energy to focus.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I muttered, though it was clear to everyone that I was lying.

Jordan exchanged a glance with Enzo, who was skating a few paces away. They both knew something was up. We were close—closer than just teammates. These guys were like brothers to me, and they could read me like a book. But this wasn't something I wanted to dive into with them, not here, not now.

"You don't look fine," Enzo chimed in, giving me a nudge as we headed to the locker room after practice. "Come on, man, you've been off for days. Is it Stella?"

Hearing her name hit me like a punch to the gut. It was her, of course. Everything was about her now, even when I tried to keep my head in the game. I didn't want to talk about it, but the weight of it all was suffocating me, and I had to get it out.

"Yeah," I admitted, running a hand through my hair. "It's... complicated."

Jordan and Enzo didn't say anything at first. They didn't have to. They knew me well enough to understand that this wasn't just about nerves for the final or some random argument. This was deeper, heavier.

"I get it," Jordan finally said, leaning back against the locker. "You've got a lot going on. But you're our captain, man. We need you."

I felt like I was letting them down, like I was letting everyone down. I wanted to be there for my team, to win this game for all of us. But how could I lead them when I couldn't even get my own head straight?

"I'm trying," I said, my voice low. "But it's not just the game. My dad... he's still recovering, and Stella... I feel like I'm losing her."

Enzo frowned, his usually upbeat demeanor dampened by the seriousness of my situation. "You're not losing her, Arnold. She's tough. You'll figure it out."

"I don't know, man," I replied, shaking my head. "We had a fight, and it wasn't good. I had to leave, and she... she didn't take it well."

Jordan, who had been quiet for most of the conversation, pulled out his phone. I glanced over as he texted someone—probably Allison, Stella's friend. I couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt. I didn't want to drag them into our mess, but I also knew that if anyone could help me understand what Stella was going through, it was Allison.

"I just sent her a message," Jordan said after a moment. "We'll figure it out. You've got enough to worry about with the game and your dad."

Enzo clapped me on the shoulder. "We've got your back, man. But you've gotta focus, alright? This game... it's everything we've worked for."

I knew they were right. This game wasn't just about me. It was about the team, about everything we had poured into this season. I couldn't let them down, not after how far we'd come.

But Stella was always there, in the back of my mind, like a constant ache I couldn't shake. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her. The way she looked at me when we kissed, the pain in her voice when she asked if I was really leaving.

I didn't want to leave her. I never wanted to be the guy who walked away. But my dad needed me. My family needed me. And somehow, I had to find a way to balance all of it—my dad, my team, and the girl I couldn't stop thinking about.

Jordan's phone buzzed, and he glanced at it. "Allison says Stella's... she's not doing great."

My stomach twisted. I knew she was struggling, but hearing it confirmed hit me harder than I expected.

"You should talk to her," Enzo suggested gently. "After the game. You can't keep this bottled up, man. It's messing with your head."

I nodded, knowing they were right. But talking to her was easier said than done. What could I say? How could I explain everything that was going on when I barely understood it myself?

Still, I knew I had to try. Stella was too important to me to let this drift between us. I just had to find the right moment, the right words, and hope that it wasn't too late.

The pressure of the game, my dad's recovery, and everything with Stella—it all felt like it was crashing down on me at once. But as I stood there in the locker room, surrounded by my teammates, I realized I wasn't in this alone. Jordan and Enzo had my back, and maybe, just maybe, Stella would too.

For now, I had to focus on the game. But once that final whistle blew, I knew I had some serious talking to do.