A Hockey Player's Guide To Deception

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Disclaimer: I made a few changes to the previous chapter so in order not to be confused kindly read the last few paragraphs of the last chapter before this one.

Louis hadn't spoken to her in five days. He had been avoiding her like she was plagued with biblical leprosy. Guilt and anger ate her alive. A part of her felt horrible, Louis had been nothing but the perfect host, a true friend if she conveniently forgot that he had almost beaten her black and blue and taken joy in making her regret her existence during her first few weeks at St. Thomas Academy.

She was tempted to cave in and tell him the things he wanted to hear, but then a wave of anger would slam into her chest so hard it startled her. She was angry at the way he was treating her, as if he was entitled to her feelings, as if she had no right to hesitate. And it made her wonder...if she truly didn't like him, would he still treat her like this? Would he still try to make her feel as small as she felt now?

She resented the fact that it was so easy for him to claim he loved her and then walk past her like she was nothing, like she didn't exist at all. The weight of it dragged her down until she felt like a walking zombie.

Sleep never came, almost as if it wanted to punish her for being such a pathetic coward. The truth was, she was scared-scared of opening up to Louis in a way she had never opened up to anyone before.

Too many times, she had carried hope like a fragile flame, believing that one day her father would finally wake up and love her the way he loved Nathan. Sometimes he was suspiciously kind, and her young heart clung to those moments, wishing-aching-to be wanted the way Nathan was wanted. But hope always came crashing down like a ton of bricks, shattering her tiny heart into pieces.

John enjoyed it. He enjoyed making her wait for a love that would never come, only to let her fall, only to crush her when she reached for it.

There was so much fear in the unknown, and it only grew sharper when she realized how much she had to lose.

A light knock on her door snapped her out of her thoughts.

"Kingston, are you up?" a gentle voice called. Her heart sank when she realized it wasn't Louis.

She cleared her throat. "Yes."

"Are you okay? You've been cooped up in your room all week."

Kayla fell silent, unsure how to respond. The rational part of her told her to just mutter I'm fine and get her off her case. But another part, a smaller, more desperate part.... wanted to spill everything, to believe that maybe an older woman would know what to do, how to guide her through this.

"I'm good," she said at last.

"Oh, that's great. I just wanted to remind you about the send-off dinner today"

"Okay, thanks," she shot back before collapsing onto her bed. They would be heading back to school over the weekend, and the thought filled her with dread. She was hesitant to return.

She didn't know where she stood with him anymore. Would they pretend that evening never happened and slip back into something like normal?  Or would Louis keep ignoring her and turn against her like he was in the beginning?

She wanted so badly to talk to him. She was tempted to march right over, corner him, and force him to sit down until they worked it out. The urge gnawed at her, but so did the shame. This was all her fault.

Why couldn't she just function like a normal girl? The sane thing would be to throw herself into his arms, to drown in his warmth and let him hold all the pieces of her. But she wasn't that girl. She had too much baggage weighing her down to dive so easily into something so terrifying.