Chapter 13 Bill
thirteen
Bill
The last fan waves as he heads out the arena doors. I return his smile, then watch as he disappears in the parking lot. The second the door shuts behind him, I exhale and lean back against the wall, letting the silence seep in.
It’s been a long day.
But a good one.
No, it’s a great day.
One of those days where dreams come true.
It all went so fast, I almost feel like I missed half of it.
I turn away from the exit and walk back toward Victory Hall, gathering up the stray flyers and a couple of empty water bottles that fell out of the overflowing recycling bin.
This morning when we started this event, everything felt surreal.
Maybe like I was dreaming?
Now, the place feels mine.
Footsteps patter behind me. I turn and find Cleo carrying his overstuffed key ring on his way to the front door, likely to lock up. “Hey,” I call to him. “I was actually looking for you earlier.”
He raises a brow. “Oh, yeah?”
“The food storage closet has a lock that isn’t working. I got stuck inside and had to call for help. One of the guys busted it open. You will need to check it out.”
“Boy, I’m sorry I missed your call.” He nods curtly. “Today was crazy with nonstop spills and things to take care of, but I’ll look at the door first thing tomorrow.”
“Appreciate it.” I nod and watch as he locks the front door, as I expected. Turning back to me, he throws his hand up and waves before heading out. “Night, Bill.”
“Night.” And just like that, I’m alone in the dead silence.
My heart hammers with something that’s not quite adrenaline.
I don’t know what these emotions exactly are, but I’m not ready to leave this place.
The day was so chaotic, I didn’t have time to slow down and take it all in.
Needing one more moment, I make my way down the corridor and step into the arena.
Only the emergency lights are on, casting a dim bluish glow over the ice.
Although it’s a brand-new venue, I’ve already memorized enough so I don’t need full lights to see.
I close my eyes, and it’s all there: the stands filled with fans wearing blue and orange, the rumble of the bleachers after a game-winning goal, my team celebrating.
This is what I always dreamed of.
And now it’s real.
I step farther inside until I’m right next to the boards, and I rest my palm against the cool plexiglass. My dreams came true.
But then the memory punches through like a slap to the face.
I’m twenty-three again.
Back when I was lightning on ice.
Playing in the NHL.
And there’s Blake Anton.
No, excuse me while I properly introduce him into this memory: Blake Loser Anton, my ex-friend who stole my girlfriend and got drafted to my rival team.
Lacy was in the crowd that night. Maybe that made me on edge?
Maybe he made me on edge?
He came at me with his elbow high. All I remember is thinking I could get around him, but I was thrown up against the plexiglass, right as his elbow cracked me under the chin.
My head snapped back.
I went down.
Concussion.
My doctor said I couldn’t risk another one, as that was my third. Just like that, my career was over.
The final score: Blake took my girl and my career.
For a long time, I stayed bitter, but then I came up with a new way to win—start my own team. Now, I scan the arena, and my heart fills with more than I would have ever dreamed about. I may have lost my career in the NHL, but this entire team is mine.
This dream is alive.
Even though I’m all alone, I can’t help but smirk.
“You didn’t win, Blake,” I say softly. “You did me a favor, because you pushed me to be even better. Every day I worked unceasing hours to become rich. I started buying little junky houses, fixing them up with my own labor, and flipping them to get down payments on bigger investments. One lucky deal led to another. Now I’m so rich, I have an empire, and I own a whole AHL team… ”
A chuckle from the bottom of my gut erupts. It feels good to win. Surveying the empty arena, my heart swells. Then oddly, I find myself glancing to my side.
Then my other side.
It’s not lost on me that I’ve done this all by myself. That’s a point of pride for me. But as I stand here achieving my dreams, I can’t help but feel like it would be nice to share it with someone. I’ve always been too focused on getting here to slow down for any relationship, or even friendships.
Sure, I have friends, but they are the sort of friends you use for social climbing and business. I never really let anyone fully into my life.
I couldn’t trust anyone after what Blake did to me.
But now that I’m here, it feels like I might have missed something.
Just like that, a thought sparks.
I pull out my phone.
There might be someone I can text.
I open my phone and start typing as a new feeling seeps in.
Me: Hey, Ruth, I was thinking about you and wanted to make sure you weren’t suffering from post-closet trauma. I stare at the screen. It’s only been a couple of hours since I saw her. Maybe this makes me look desperate, but I’m hoping it comes off as more considerate.
I’m being a gentleman.
This has nothing to do with the way I keep seeing her smile every time I zone out. My heart slams against my rib cage when a text comes back.
Ruth: I’m fine. Thank you for checking.
Oof. That’s a short reply if I ever saw one, and it feels a bit like a brush-off.
The thing is though, that’s almost her pattern.
She takes a while to warm up, and my gut tells me to give it one more chance.
Me: I’m glad to hear it. I’m impressed by how well you handled the emergency.
I think if you hadn’t been there, I might have pounded down the door with impatience.
Holding my breath, I stare at the three dots and wait for a reply. It takes a minute, and my nerves build in my gut so much I start to pace in a small circle. I let out a breath as soon as the text appears on my screen.
Ruth: Well, I would have yelled for help had you not been there too. It wasn’t that scary since we had each other to talk to. It also helped there were tons of snacks, and I didn’t have to worry about starvation.
I’m smiling as I construct another text and send it off right away.
Me: Right, the snacks were quite useful. If you must be locked in anywhere, I’d pick a pantry any day.
She doesn’t respond right away, and I stare at my phone for a good couple of minutes, waiting for the dots to appear, but nothing.
I drop my phone to my side, and gaze around the darkened arena one more time, before turning on my heel and walking out.
My heartbeat slows, not in relaxation, but more of a conservation sensation, where I put up a guard and hope to not get disappointed.
It doesn’t look like she’s texting back.
I stride back to Victory Hall and make my way through the lobby.
I’m not thinking about anything in particular, except maybe how nice it would be to have someone special to share this moment with, but I guess life is funny like that.
You can’t have all your dreams come true.
I’m not one to complain. I make it through the exit and all the way to my SUV, where I start my engine.
I’m about to pull out when my phone vibrates with another text. My heart slams in my throat.
Ruth: Yeah, it was a weird night but glad it’s over. Thanks again for checking.
My smile drops as I lower my phone to my lap and reread it. It certainly sounds like she wants to be left alone. I get that.
It was a long day, and I’m sure she is tired, but I can’t help but remember the way she looked at me in that closet.
That wasn’t a leave-me-alone expression.
Those were kiss-me-now lips if I ever saw them.
I don’t think she’s playing hard to get either. I truly believe she thinks I’ll judge Noah on her behavior, and that couldn’t be farther from the truth. I’m not ready to drop it, and I grab my phone and fire off another text.
Me: Yeah. It was a crazy night, but I’m glad it happened because I enjoyed our conversation. I was hoping you’d let me take you out for a real snack sometime…sort of to make up for it. Her reply hits my phone almost instantly.
Ruth: I’m flattered, but I can’t go out with you. You’re my son’s boss. I just can’t risk it. He’s worked too hard for this. Sorry.
Exhaling, I read her text and feel no surprise. She never gave me the vibe that she dates much, but . . . I always enjoy a challenge.
Me: That’s fair.
I set my phone down on the passenger seat and pull out of the parking lot, all the while thinking of things I could have said to her.
However, I conclude, it doesn’t really matter what I say, because she seems to have made up her mind about this “no dating.” That doesn’t mean I’m giving up.
I’m just going to have to take a different approach.
I get to the stop sign and grab my phone again. Me: Okay, we won’t call it a date.
Her reply is lightning fast.
Ruth: Right, because it won’t happen.
I exhale again and type the first thing that comes to mind:
Me: How about a human encounter with someone who owes you an apology for getting you stuck in a closet?
I hold my breath for three blocks and my phone lights up.
Ruth: Wow, you seriously don’t take no for an answer, do you? Promise not to say anything even remotely flirtatious, or the human encounter ends immediately.
My smile is so wide that my eyes practically squint.
Me: I might be following your lead, as you don’t exactly take no when it’s something you want. And of course I will promise. I will text you the details tomorrow.
Ruth: I’m also bringing my own car.
My grin continues to tug even wider.
That was a yes.
Not a big yes, but a yes.
One thing about me is, I’m good at taking small wins and helping them grow into bigger ones. I don’t know where this is going. Everything in my gut is pulling me closer to her. I must find out why.