Bending the Rules (The Rules, #1)

56

Brenna

Our teams are now tied at one in the series, and when I return home from the game, I'm exhausted and frustrated.

A lot went wrong tonight. Shea's team was the stronger one. We were lucky. While Shea's passes were precise, mine were sloppy. Desperate.

Our two goals weren't even good. The first one was a deflection off of Jayden's skate. The second was a blind shot taken by Hunter. He had two Kelowna players closing in on him, and he panicked. The goal was pure luck.

If we're going to win the playoffs, we need to play better and stronger next game.

The next game is sudden death.

It'll be the last hockey game we play on our current teams. Against each other.

Sadness pinches my heart as I kick off my shoes and head down the hallway, my backpack slung over my shoulder. Mom's home tonight, and the smell of freshly baked bread is warm and welcoming. There's also a hint of cinnamon and spice in the air, making me wonder if Mom made chili. Cinnamon is her secret ingredient in chili. She will usually make buns and chili together, which goes perfectly with today's shitty weather.

It's gloomy and foggy, like typical April weather is.

After tossing my backpack onto the couch, I enter the kitchen through the living room. My mind is spinning. Tonight's been a whirlwind of emotions. From adrenaline to happiness to a sudden onset of sadness. Also, the stress weighing on my shoulders has caused an uptick in my eating disorder. I've been overdoing it again with the physical activity and lack of food consumption. My therapist says it's normal for that to happen, but it makes me feel out of place. Like I've taken a step back instead of forward.

Then there's the issue with Shea. Neither of us will give up our dreams. And as much as we say we're willing to commit to a long-distance relationship, doubt plagues both of us. No matter how hard we try to pretend. There's a universal pattern that ninety-nine per cent of people follow. And that pattern includes participants of long-distance relationships growing apart as time passes.

Stepping around the couch, I saunter into the kitchen, trying to look present. Mom's in the kitchen, and sure enough, she's made fresh buns and chili. She's standing in front of the island, buttering the browned tops of the baking sheet of buns. Half of them are multigrain while the others are white.

When she hears me, she glances up and greets me with a warm smile. "That was a riveting game. I watched the last bit of it on the live feed Hunter's mom had streaming. Good thing traffic wasn't bad. Otherwise, I would've missed all of it."

I try to smile. To appear happy.

But when I make eye contact with Mom, something inside of me breaks.

The tears burn as they slide down my cheeks. As I press the heels of my hands into my eyes and sob. Something inside me is broken, and it worsens the more I think about Shea. It feels like an inevitable goodbye lingers on the horizon. We're running out of time. Our rivalry was detrimental. We wasted time because of it.

All I can think about is the time we lost. The time that's slowly ticking by until our goodbyes are exchanged.

There's nothing good about time. It's an ever-present obstruction that likes to fuck people over.

Her face flashes with concern, then she's pulling me into her arms.

"Brenna," she says. "What's wrong?"

"Mom," I sob. "What will happen to me and Shea? I feel like we're drifting apart. Like our relationship is inevitably doomed. He'll be attending university in Boston. I'll be in Vancouver. There's... It's..."

I choke on another sob.

Mom pulls me into a hug and runs her fingers through my hair. She rests her chin on my head. "Sweetie, young love is tricky." She cuts herself off with a short laugh. "Love is tricky. There are moments in your life where you'll question every decision you've made. Where you'll look back and wonder what would've happened if you'd taken a different road. You and Shea are young, and unlike me and your father, you have access to an entire world." She gestures to my phone on the counter. I don't recall setting it there, but it doesn't surprise me. My mind is a wreck. "It's at your very fingertips. Staying in touch isn't difficult. What can be difficult, though, is the pressure you're putting on yourselves. University is when you're supposed to loosen the reins. Make smart decisions but still have fun. Determine the space you wish to carve for yourself in the world."

"But what if I want that space to be with Shea?"

Mom tightens her arms around me. "Then you'll make it work. That boy is in love with you, Brenna. But if there is mutual doubt, it needs to be addressed. Communication is the only resolution. Through communication, you can devise a plan. One that benefits both of you. And if goodbye becomes a key component in that plan, then maybe you were the right girl at the wrong time. Maybe he was the right boy at the wrong time. Sometimes, relationships don't work out. Sometimes they do. You never know until it ends. That being said, goodbyes aren't always permanent. There's still hope. Maybe you and Shea will meet again after university is over."

She pauses and tips my chin up, wiping away the tears. "As your mother, Brenna, the best advice I can give you is to not attend university with a boyfriend on your mind. Schoolwork at such an intense rate is difficult to balance with an equally intense sport. Adding a boyfriend into the mix can be tricky. And the same goes for Shea. Like it or not, he's in a relationship with hockey, too. The NHL will be no different."

I hiccup, squeezing my eyes shut. My heart is aching. "That's the part that hurts, Mom. I think that was the plan from the beginning. To break up after graduating high school. We just didn't know it yet."

Mom says nothing else. All she does is hold me close while I continue to cry.