A Hockey Player's Guide To Deception

Chapter Forty-One

Louis hated nights. They dragged everything back to the surface, every wrong turn, every mistake he'd made. Sleep was a stranger to him now his schedule ruined, his body exhausted but his mind refusing to rest. Every second was swallowed by the same thought, looping endlessly: Where was Kayla?

His brain couldn't grasp it. Couldn't accept how someone could vanish so completely. One moment she had been right in front of him real, breathing, there and the next she was gone. Just gone.

He had chased after her. Had gone to her room, torn through her things with shaking hands, desperate for some sign he'd missed. He searched the entire school compound, every hallway, every corner, his heart pounding harder with each empty space he found. It was as if she had walked straight out of the school gates and dissolved into thin air.

How she had slipped past security, he didn't know. He'd asked them one by one if they had seen her. Each answer had been the same. No. Nothing. No Kayla.

And that was the worst part. She hadn't taken anything. Her things were still there, untouched, exactly as she'd left them. Like she had simply stood up and vanished.

The thought gnawed at him, tightening his chest until it hurt. He felt unmoored, frantic, on the edge of losing his mind. It felt like he was going crazy and maybe he already had.

He had dropped hockey, and his father had exploded.

Shouting. Accusations. Disappointment sharpened into something cruel. Hockey had been the only thing his father had ever truly loved about him, and walking away from it felt like a betrayal he refused to forgive. Louis hadn't fought back. He hadn't had the energy. He wanted nothing to do with it anymore. The ice was poisoned now every shift, every scrape of blade against frozen ground dragging Kayla's absence back to the surface.

Hockey used to be relief. It used to be where he breathed easiest. Now it only hurt. The rink felt haunted. Every time he stepped onto the ice, he half-expected to see her in the rink with him, watching him, waiting for him like she always had. But she wasn't, it was all an illusion in his head, his chest ached so badly it felt like something inside him was collapsing.

School became a blur. Days folded into each other, time speeding up and slowing down all at once. He wasn't living, he was surviving, barely. Graduation came and went without meaning. He stood in a cap and gown and smiled when told to smile, but later he couldn't remember the speeches, the faces, or the sound of his name being called. It all felt distant, unreal, like it had happened to someone else.

So he buried himself in schoolwork. Assignments. Exams. Perfect grades. He treated them like a lifeline, something solid to hold onto, something that didn't leave without warning. If he kept busy enough, if he stayed exhausted enough, maybe he wouldn't think about her. Maybe he wouldn't feel the hollow, aching space she had left behind.

But it didn't work.

He became a shell of who he used to be thin, quiet, drifting through hallways like a ghost. Time lost all meaning. Some days he barely moved at all. Most days were spent in bed, staring at the ceiling, trapped in the same numbing routine: eat, sleep, study. Repeat. Breathe, if he remembered to.

And today...today marked one year since Kayla had disappeared from his life.

One year since the world had quietly ended for him

He found that resenting her had slowly become his coping mechanism. It was easier that way. How could she claim to love him...say it with her whole chest only a week before everything fell apart, and then leave him as if he had meant nothing? The contradiction ate at him, sharp and relentless.

Worthlessness clung to him like a second skin. So did self-hate, doubt, every insecurity he'd ever tried to bury. He knew he had done wrong, so wrong, but he had believed she would love him enough to offer some grace. Some space. A chance at forgiveness. Instead, she had left without looking back even once.