Daydream (Maple Hills, #3)(123)

A silence spreads across the guys and Russ is the first one to speak. I notice Aurora isn’t beside him. “Then why do it? Why not just step down?”

I shrug. “I didn’t want to let you all down. You all believed in me.”

“Fucking hell, Henry,” Kris groans, rubbing his forehead with his hand. “We believe in you because we love you, you fool. You could tell us you wanted to start, I don’t know, fucking show jumping and we’d believe in you. You don’t need to be something that makes you unhappy for us.”

“What he said,” Mattie says.

Bobby frowns a little, my eyebrows pinch together. “I’ll be honest, I’d have my doubts about a future equestrian career because I’ve seen how much you fuck around on leg day, but yeah, don’t do something just for us or whatever Kris said.”

Anastasia is unusually quiet, and when I look to her she shakes her head. “I just love you and want you to be happy. Whatever that looks like.”

The doors open and JJ walks in looking nothing like the weird relative at a wedding. “I heard we were holding an intervention. Has Nate made some corny speech yet?”

“Not yet,” Robbie says. He’s at the end of the table beside Lola, also staying quiet. “I’m sure it’s coming. You’re looking at me, Hen. But I don’t have anything to say. I’ve got your back whatever you do. I’ve always got your back.”

JJ takes the empty chair on the other side of Sasha and leans forward. “Let’s talk about how you un–fuck up your relationship with the love of your life.” Everyone groans, including me. “What? He’s going to need something big.”

I don’t know who goes first, but at least three people say, “That’s what she said.”



* * *



ANASTASIA AND I HAVE ARGUED many times about the idea of manifesting.

I know for certain that it’s absolute bullshit, because I ask the universe to give us flat tires so I can’t get to Faulkner’s office, and nothing happens.

“It’s good to see you, Henry,” he says when I sit in his office. He looks at Nate. “I thought I’d gotten rid of you, Hawkins.”

I don’t think Faulkner has ever called me by my first name, which is an immediate red flag. I think of the speech that Nate and I practiced on the way over here. I figured if I was going to make one I may as well run it by an expert.

“I’m sorry for going MIA, Coach. Sometimes I get really overwhelmed and it makes it difficult for me to process all my emotions, and I sort of shut down. I don’t know why I do it. I don’t know how to stop it, but I really want to. I love hockey, but I don’t love being a leader.

“I feel responsible for everyone and everything, and I can’t see outside of my own head sometimes. I didn’t want to let down the people who believed I could do it, and I didn’t want to let myself down. But I also need to admit when something isn’t the right choice for me.”

Faulkner doesn’t interrupt, he doesn’t yell, he doesn’t slam his fist on the table. “You know we could have avoided all this upset if you’d just explained that you didn’t hit anyone.”

“I know.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that Ellington attacked you? You were the victim, Henry. I should have been looking out for you, not berating you.”

“Your team’s mistakes are your own when you’re the leader.”

Faulkner looks at Nate, his eyes narrowing. “Did you teach him this fall-on-your-sword bullshit? You’re good at that, too.”

“What?” Nate says, losing his cool slightly. “No!”

“I read it in a book by Harold Oscar. I was reading it to learn how to be a better captain. But it feels pointless now, because then you said maybe I shouldn’t be captain and I felt relieved and I don’t know. It’s hard for me to remember.”

Coach laughs, and I’ve never been more confused. I turn to Nate for guidance, but nope, he looks confused, too. “Harold Oscar? Have you ever looked up Harold Oscar? Or met him? Because I have. The guy is an asshole. He couldn’t lead ducks to a pond. He was injured for most of the seasons his team won! Why the fuck would you listen to his advice?”

“I wanted to do a good job.”

“You were, for what it’s worth. We can fix this. No more though, Henry. I accept that you’ve had a rough time mentally, and your recent conduct is an exception. You pull this shit again and it’s going to end very differently.”

“I understand.”

Coach grabs a pen from the pot on his desk and a piece of paper. “Here’s what you’re going to do: You’re gonna make up every workout and every skate you missed while you were gone. You’re gonna email all your professors and ask them what you need to do to catch up. Plus, you’re going to talk to someone about shutting down when you’re overwhelmed. When you’ve done that, and you’re caught up and you’ve made up all your training, you can play. We can decide on a new captain.”

“I can help,” Nate says, nudging my shoulder.

Faulkner frowns at him. “Why would I want your help? I took your advice last year and look where it fucking got me.” He gestures to me. “A captain who hates captaincy.”