Page 161 of The Pucking Coach's Daughter

I am going fucking insane.

We win our first game on Friday night, no thanks to me. My head is all over the place. Drinking last night absolutely did not help, because I wake up with the biggest fucking headache.

Hangover, I mentally correct.

But the first thing I do when I wake up, aside from popping pain meds and draining a bottle of water, is check my phone for messages from Sydney. Our conversation thread is one-sided enough to make me sick.

From the past week:

Me

I went overboard.

Do you forgive me?

I was pissed. I want to talk about it… apologize to you.

Sydney.

Are you skipping class?

Penn won’t fucking talk to me about you. Are you home?

I buzzed the intercom a few times, but you didn’t respond. Did you go to your dad’s house?

The mask was over the line. I know that.

Fuck, Sydney, just TALK to me.

I swipe away and toss my phone. I’m disgusted with myself, and I have been disgusted, but seeing her reaction to me on the plane…

I may as well have been Bear and carrying a chainsaw. This wasn’t fear like I’d ever seen it before—she had a biological response to the sight of me. Until Penn blocked her view of me anyway. Except when I sat down behind her, she got so rigid.

My big plan was to lean over the seat and apologize. My charm has carried me through a lot in life, but this is… not quite how I thought any of it would turn out. Even Penn is being shady.

Wait.

A vague memory comes back… I groan. Did I seriously go to her room last night? Pounded on the door? She must’ve called Penn, because he came to retrieve me. If I remember the look on his face correctly, I’m pretty sure I’m lucky he didn’t deck me.

My phone buzzes. I reach for it, my hopes lifting when I see Sydney’s name.

Sydney

I’ll talk to you.

I type a response and delete it. I try again, but it’s not quite right. Gritting my teeth, I try a third time for something that’s like, appreciative of her effort but also kind of nonchalant. Not overeager.

Me

When?

Nailed it.

Sydney

Tomorrow before the game. Hotel lobby.

I blow out a breath. What’s she doing today that she can’t talk to me now? Fuck it, if she’s not going to meet me today, I need to burn off the hangover another way.