Page 123 of Hockey Boy

Beckett: Are you sure you don’t want me to force Man Bun to watch the kids? He’s good with babies.

Brooks: We’ll be fine.

Gavin: It’s only a few hours. And there are four of them.

Beckett: And I have five kids.

Gavin: If you can handle them, I’m pretty sure Brooks, Sara, and Lennox have this covered.

Me: Hey! I’m in this chat.

Gavin: Just making sure. You’re awfully quiet over there.

Across from me,Robert clears his throat. “Am I keeping you from something important?”

I pocket my phone, trying to ignore the instant FOMO. When I walk out of this appointment, they will have had an entire conversation without me.And I’ll have had an entire conversation with my therapist.

This morning, I woke up and felt nothing again. After spending a night laughing over Bridget Jones and sinking inside my gorgeous fiancée, I felt morose and tired, and I didn’t want to get out of bed.

The one woman I’ve wanted my whole life gave me everything last night—her heart, her body, and her future—and still it was a struggle to get up. And at practice, I was basically useless.

I didn’t want to be there. Ineverdon’t want to be there. Hockey has always been the one thing that settles my mind, but today, even shuffling forward on the ice took effort. My brother practically ripped my head off and told me that if I acted sluggish like this again, he’d enact a curfew.

I should have felt embarrassed. Angry, even. Instead, I felt a whole lot of nothing.

So I called my therapist and told him I needed to see him. And here we are.

“Sorry. Just my brother confirming that I can babysit tonight.”

He crosses his leg and nods. “I take it you enjoy babysitting?”

I smile, thankfully feeling better than I did this morning. “Why do you say it that way?”

“Your face lit up when you mentioned it.”

I am an open book like that. But what can I say? I like what I like. My family. Lennox. Hockey. For the most part, I’m a simple man.

“My brother’s kids are awesome,” I say. “My fiancée and I are watching them with Brooks and his fiancée. The girls are best friends, so it makes it even better.”

Robert’s smile is warm. “Things are going well?”

The question is a simple one, but it makes my heart race, nonetheless. Like it’s a trick. Robert has told me time and again that there are no trick questions. But I find that hard to believe. The man’s job is to dig around in my head, to probe for things he believes I’m hiding.

And though he’s not wrong, because I’m constantly trying to put on a façade, pretend life is great when I’m outside this office, I’m truly not hiding anything right now.

“Things are good.” And because I just promised myself that I would be honest, I add, “I’ve told Lennox about my struggles with depression, and when it gets to be too much, she understands what I need.”

Robert’s brows rise. “And what’s that?”

“To sit in the dark. Silence. You know, the usual.”

He nods, his expression thoughtful. It irks me. Once again, it feels like he’s trying to figure me out like I’m a puzzle, rather than just listening to my words.

“How often do you have these episodes?”

I grip my thigh, relishing the bite of pain. “They aren’t episodes.”

He’s labeled them as such in the past, but he’s got it wrong. I just overdo it sometimes. I’m too loud, and I use too much energy. He thinks I’m like the rest of his patients, but he isn’t with me day in and day out. His other patients haven’t been blessed the way I have. They probably have good reason to be depressed. Me? I’m just in my head.