Worth The Wait

𝟑𝟖|𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐓

𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐓𝐓

I don't remember the drive.

One second I'm leaving the rink, the sound of the door clicking shut like a fucking death sentence—and the next, I'm sitting on Kolton's couch with a half-drunk beer in my hand and a rage I don't know what to do with buzzing in my chest.

He watches me from across the room, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. Not saying anything.

I take another swig, throat burning.

Finally, he speaks. "You screwed it up, didn't you?"

I glare at him. "Not in the mood."

"That makes two of us. I was in bed."

"You didn't have to let me in."

"I didn't let you in. You used your spare key and walked in like your damn name's on the lease."

He's not wrong. I run a hand over my face and sink deeper into the couch, wishing the cushions could just swallow me whole.

"I don't know what I'm doing, Kolt."

"Yeah," he says, "that's obvious."

I scowl. "She told me to leave."

"You told her it was a mistake to be with her in the first place. What the hell did you expect?"

"I didn't mean it like that."

"But you said it like that."

I grit my teeth and stare at the wall. Kolton sighs, dragging his chair closer.

"Look," he says, more serious now. "You want my opinion?"

"No."

"Tough. You're getting it."

I brace myself.

"You're falling for her."

The words hit me square in the chest. I open my mouth to argue, but he cuts me off.

"Don't bother denying it. I've seen the way you look at her. The way you skate with her. Hell, even the way you don't look at anyone else anymore."

"I was trying to keep us focused, but God Kolt she's this amazing person" I mutter.

Kolton raises an eyebrow. "Focused? Bro, you just walked out on her two weeks before the Olympics. You think that's focused?"

I don't answer.

He leans in. "You can't have it both ways, River. You either let yourself feel this or you bury it so deep it takes everything with it. But what you can't do is keep punishing her for the fact that you care."

I stare at the floor, my chest tight. My grip on the beer bottle turns white-knuckled.

"I'm not good at this," I say finally.

"No one is," Kolton says. "But if you care about her, really care, you figure it out. You stop running every time it gets hard. Because if you keep leaving, eventually she won't ask you to come back."

I don't have anything to say to that.

So I just sit there. Stewing. Regretting. Wanting to call her and apologize and not knowing how the hell I'd even begin to.

Kolton gets up to grab another drink, and I stay there in the dark like the coward I am.

"Where's Soph at?" 

"Out." 

It's almost 2 a.m. when my phone buzzes.

Lucie.