Worth The Wait

𝟎𝟐|𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐓

𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐓𝐓

Hockey. It's one of the most intense sports in the world. Violent, technical, skillful — and that's just with practice. Sure, some guys are naturally good at it, but every hockey player knows the grind: hours on end, day after day, trying to get just a little bit better. And even on our days off, we're in the gym, pushing our bodies to the limit.
Most players spend their free time with family or in charity work. But if you're like most of the guys on my team, it's hitting up the clubs, getting drunk, and going home with a puck bunny. Relationships? They don't really work for us. Trying to balance hockey with a love life is tough, and most of us aren't up for the challenge. I admire the guys who find women patient enough to deal with the insane schedules, but I know I'm not one of them.
So, I keep myself busy with distractions. I used to tell myself I didn't need anyone, that the casual hook-ups and meaningless nights out were enough. But as I grow older, I realize that maybe, just maybe, I've been fooling myself. The emptiness of these relationships... it's wearing on me. The same faces, the same routine, the same unfeeling bodies. Sometimes I wonder if it's the fear of being vulnerable that keeps me in this cycle, or if it's something deeper.
Every night, it's the same. I get drunk, hook up, forget about the game, forget about my future. But in the morning? I'm left with the echo of my loneliness. And every time, I push it all away. Keep moving, keep running from the truth that nothing here really satisfies me.
I'm not sure when it happened, but I've gotten tired of the whole routine. Sure, the random hookups are fun at first, but it's starting to feel like just that: a routine. I show up, drink, hook up, and then move on. The cycle doesn't change, and neither do the girls. They look at me like I'm a star, but I know they don't really see me. Not really.
The buzzer rings, signaling the end of practice. My body aches — nothing unusual after a brutal session of skating, drills, and constant slamming into the boards. Kolton's hit this morning was brutal, but nothing I can't shake off. We all head to the locker room, the familiar scent of sweat, equipment, and old socks hitting me in waves.
Coach walks in after us. "You guys played good. Micheal, check on River. He's acting strange."
I know he's right. I feel off today, like something's not right, but I can't put my finger on it. I'm still tired from last night's bender. And the game tomorrow. The rest of the guys strip off their gear, not paying much attention to me, but Micheal catches my eye, pulling out his flashlight to do a quick concussion check. I nod, signaling that I'm good. He leaves me alone to shower and get ready for the night.
Jackson, as usual, is the first to offer to go out. "Want to hit the bar?" he asks while we both head for the showers. "Hell, yeah. It's been a tough week. I need a drink."
As we step into the shower stalls, the usual banter picks up. Zack's busy running his mouth, throwing shade at Jackson for his frequent penalty box time, while Miles chimes in about Jackson's drinking habits.
"Maybe you should try drinking less during the season," Miles jokes.
"Nope," Jackson replies without missing a beat. "I like my cheap booze, blackout nights, and random hookups."
I finish my shower, taking my time, not wanting to rush out into the chaos just yet. I'd rather not stink when I head back to my place with someone tonight. Not that I care who it is anymore — the girls are all the same, just bodies. But at least they make it easier to forget everything else for a while.
The locker room talk continues, and I can barely keep my eyes open. The guys are hyped for the night, but I can't help but feel the exhaustion creeping in. It's the same old thing, and the thought of another meaningless night out isn't exactly thrilling.
"See you, coach," I say as I leave the locker room, and he gives me a half-wave. The arena is mostly empty now, just me and a few straggling guys packing up. I head out, passing a few puck bunnies lingering around the bleachers. They stare at me, but I don't bother giving them the satisfaction of acknowledgment. I keep walking, my boots tapping against the floor with each step.
"Nice job in practice, River," Mindy says, her voice grating. I don't know why, but I've never liked her. Maybe it's the fact that she's slept with half the team or maybe it's her desperation to get in my pants. Either way, I'm not interested.
Kolton claps me on the back. "Ladies, we're out of here." He's been my best friend since first grade when I spilled apple juice all over him. He's the guy who's never treated me like a superstar. He's a true friend, but even that's starting to feel strained. He's married now, and I see less and less of him. It's his life, and he's happy, but I can't help but feel a little... left behind.
"Got a family now," he continues, "but I still remember the good old days. Don't forget me when you're famous, huh?"
I laugh it off, but the truth is, I feel more disconnected from Kolton than ever. He's got Sophia now, and I get it; they're in love, but I'm starting to feel like I'm losing him. When he was just Kolton, the guy I used to talk to for hours, the guy who got it, life was easier. Now, he's wrapped up in a different world, and it feels like I'm stuck in this one, spinning my wheels.
"Yeah, man," I joke, shaking it off. "Good luck with that married life."
We walk to the parking lot, and both of our trucks are parked side by side. It's the usual — Kolton's driving, and I'm following behind.
"Oh, by the way," he starts, his voice casually taunting.
"Don't say it," I mutter under my breath.
"Sophia's coming with us tonight," he announces as if that's some great surprise.
I groan. I love Sophia. She's the little sister I never had. But ever since she and Kolton married last year, I no longer see him alone. She's always by his side, and while I get it — they're in love, I guess — it's starting to get old.
"Great, so she's playing the babysitter tonight?" I joke, hopping into my truck. Kolton flips me off and speeds out of the lot, leaving me behind.