After a career-ending fight, ex-professional-hockey-player-turned-Zamboni-driver Chase Cassidy has never looked back at the sport. He's perfectly content cleaning the ice between periods and chatting with fellow staff members, and running a pub outs...
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Chase
My phone is heavy in my hand. I've never been so scared to look at an email before. Following Dr. Ames' suggestions, I emailed Maxton Shaw last night. Now, whenever my phone dings with a notification, a cold sweat breaks out across my brow. Anxiety fills my gut. I'll stare at the screen for several minutes before tapping the app. In the seconds it takes for the display to load, my stomach feels like it's suffering from a consistent drop. All day, that feeling has been on and off.
So far, none of the emails have been from him.
Yet, despite those horrible feelings of anxiety, I continue to check my phone.
It's distracted me from taking inventory of the bar in a timely manner. By the time I'm finished, Kayce has already mopped, dusted, wiped down the bar, and prepped all the mixes for the drinks. Feeling bad, I try to continue counting the bottles of booze. It's a hard task. Not only am I wondering when I'll receive a response, but I also have Dr. Ames' words running through my head.
At this moment, I can say I wouldn't touch a drop of alcohol. Counting these bottles and mixing drinks doesn't bother me. But what happens when my mental strength becomes questionable? When I need support from other people more than I need it from myself?
I reach for a bottle of gin, feeling the weight of it in my hand. The liquid sloshes around inside. I smile down at it, remembering how much Spencer loves gin. Sometimes, she loves it a little too much.
She's said nothing, but I wonder if she ponders how she'll navigate social drinking. Ever since she started staying over, she's switched to a non-alcoholic gin and reverts to cranberry juice because it resembles red wine. Not feeling guilty makes me feel guilty. I know my distance from alcohol is influencing her decision to switch to non-alcoholic beverages around me. How that will play into social outings hasn't been tested yet, but something tells me she'll continue to do so. And while I don't want to take the recreational vibes away, all I can feel is appreciation for her decision. Having someone else avoid alcohol makes me feel like less of an outcast. That being said, I feel guilty for not feeling guilty. Drinking's supposed to be fun. When we're out together, be that as a couple or with a group of friends, she should be able to enjoy something stronger than club soda.
Her selflessness makes things so much easier.
Setting the bottle down, I jot down how much gin remains. Then I set the pen down. It thumps against the notebook and rolls to the side, hitting my phone. Without a glance over my shoulder, I grab my phone and type in my passcode. When I see the red dot on my mail app, I freeze. My mouth turns dry and it hurts to swallow. A cold sweat breaks out across my brow.
If this email...
The air feels dense as I take a deep breath.
Before I can open the app, a lemon hits my cheek. The impact is soft, but the surprise is like a jolt of lightning through my body. Flinching, I watch as the lemon rolls across the grippy maps. It stops when it hits Kayce's shoe. I look up at him, frowning. "What was that for?"
