Chapter Eight
CARTER
My phone rings, ejecting me from my Sophie-filled dreams. I’m not sure if I’m thankful for that or not.
The combined effects of being in an unfamiliar bed and having Sophie on the brain has my heart pounding, bringing me back to the night that my dad had angrily ordered me home, leaving Sophie alone in her bed.
The night that led to me being forced to leave Ivy Glen and changing the course of my life forever.
Even though it’s most likely not my dad calling me, I let out a sigh of relief when I grab the phone and see Jake’s name flashing on the screen. The time makes me cringe a little when I see it’s ten forty-five in the morning. I can’t believe I slept so late.
“Hey, asshole,” I say affectionately, holding the phone to my ear as I flop back onto the bed, my heart still pounding from the adrenaline pumping through my veins. Jake and I had played on the Ivy Glen High School hockey team together, and we both got drafted to the NHL at the same time. We kept in touch through the phone until last season, when he was traded to the same team as me, allowing us to play together again.
“Hey, dickhead,” Jake’s voice sounds through the speaker. “How’s the life of a free agent treating you?”
“You tell me.” I grin, knowing we had both talked about the day when we wouldn’t be bound by our contracts anymore, free to play for a different team. “You’re one now too.”
“Fucking finally, man.” He chuckles. “You back in town? I was thinking of going out for a drink tonight.”
“Nah, I’m still down in Ivy Glen right now. You know how Tom said the rec center was in trouble? Turns out it’s worse than we thought. I’m funding a total reconstruction to keep it in business. You should come down.”
A low whistle echoes through the phone. “Damn. I’ll think about it, except I don’t really want to share the top bunk with one of the twins.”
Jake’s mom divorced and remarried after having him, leaving Jake the oldest of nine half-siblings. He adores them, but has confessed to me on more than one drunken occasion that he feels like a wrench thrown into the cogs of his mom and step dad’s family.
Like his mom was the “buy one”, and he was the “get one free” that nobody actually wanted.
“I’m staying down at the Ivy Glen Inn, and I think they’ve remodeled recently. I’m sure there’s plenty of rooms available. We could go out with Tom and catch up with him as well.”
“Yeah, man. Let’s do it. It’ll give me time to check out some state-side teams since I’m not really feeling the offers from Canada. I’ll plan on being there next weekend.”
We hang up and I toss my phone back on the nightstand, not moving from my place on the bed. The dream about Sophie last night was… intense. She finally let me explain myself, and forgave me. She let me kiss her. Things had just got hot and heavy when my phone rang. With the way I had been reacting to Sophie since I got back, it probably saved me from having a wet dream like some teenager.
I need to get my mind off Sophie. Maybe checking in with Mom and seeing how she’s doing will do that. The day after I got here, I called the locksmith and had the locks to the house changed, so hopefully she’s feeling more secure now.
It’s nearly noon when I pull up at Mom’s house and let myself in with one of the new keys. “Mom?” I call out, shutting the door behind me.
“In here, sweetie! You’re just in time for lunch!” Her voice calls from deeper inside the house. She sounds happier than she did the day I got here, and maybe that means that it’s finally sunk in that Dad is gone.
“Do you want some grilled cheese and tomato soup?” she asks when I find her in the kitchen, standing in front of the stove with an apron on. Her black hair is smooth and brushed, and she’s in actual clothes, instead of the bathrobe she wore the last time I was here.
The kitchen looks the same as always, dark and gloomy. Dad’s always been big on image though, and refused to let Mom change it, stating that it made the house seem more refined. Despite the way the room is decorated, it’s hard to feel gloomy when Mom hums happily in front of the stove. It’s been well maintained over the years, Mom clearly diverting some of the money I send her for that purpose. I wonder if it’s because she’s afraid that Dad could come back at any moment and she wants to make sure nothing sets him off.
“That sounds amazing, Mom. Thanks.” Sitting at the table, I watch as she hums along with the song that’s playing from the small radio on the counter. A minute later, she’s placing two meals in front of us.
“I’m feeling… nostalgic today,” she admits, sitting at the table across from me. “Bertha left the door to your old room open after she cleaned, and I found myself looking through your old stuff. Photos, trophies… the posters on the wall.” She gives a small smile. “Remember how you, Jake, and Tom used to come over and hang out here? It made the house feel so alive.”
“I do,” I tell her, then take a bite of grilled cheese. “You used to make us snacks and let us take over the TV with our video games.”
The lines around her eyes crease in a bigger smile. “Yes, and those boys always had such sweet things to say about my cooking. It was nice… before your father…” Her eyes get this far off, glassy look, and it’s clear what she’s remembering.
How everything with Dad was fine until one day, it wasn’t. He had always been a little nagging, a little controlling, but nothing too crazy. Then comments he made towards her started getting worse. More aggressive. Adamant that she made sure dinner was on the table when he got home. That the house needed to be spotless. One day, when I was a sophomore in high school, Mom burned dinner. He blew up in a rage. I realize that the abuse had been happening behind closed doors for much longer than I was aware, but as a kid, I was blissfully ignorant.
The meatloaf only burned because I had broken my arm at school and she had to rush to the hospital, completely forgetting about the food. Dad had come home to a burned dinner and an empty house, and ever since that night, things were different. We got home from the hospital to see a trashed kitchen. Broken plates on the floor, all the chairs at the table flipped over except for one, which he was sitting on, waiting for us.
The burned meatloaf was on the table and he was drumming his fingers on the wooden surface, staring us down. That was the first night he ever raised a hand to Mom in front of me. He stopped himself before he hit her. I learned what could happen if we stepped out of line.
It was like the mask came off. He no longer tried to hide what he was capable of from me, realizing that I was less likely to stand up to him if I knew Mom would pay for it if I did.
In response to my broken arm, he only told me I was lucky it was off season for hockey, otherwise he’d have made damn sure a broken arm was the least of my worries.
“Mom…” My voice is rough as she withdraws further into herself, the memories of Dad’s abuse resurfacing. “You don’t need to be scared anymore. He’s gone.” I reach across the table and grasp one of her hands in mine. “Dad… he can’t hurt you anymore.”
“You don’t know that,” she shakes her head frantically, “he could be out there, waiting for me to show my face.”
“Mom, we talked about this. He hasn’t demanded money from me in over a year. He would never let me go so easily unless he was truly gone.”
Her brows furrow as my words sink in. “He hasn’t… he hasn’t asked for money in that long?” At my nod, a whoosh of air leaves her. “That’s… that’s good.”
“I want you to go out and live your life, Mom. Maybe enroll in an art class. Remember how much you used to love painting? You could catch up with your friends. You know Tom’s son, Jordan? He’s ten now, and I’m working with him on the ice. You should come to some games.”
Her eyes light up at the mention of Jordan. “Oh, I remember Jordan! He was such an adorable baby, and you and Sophie were both so sweet with him.” She seems to have instantly snapped out of her funk about Dad because she gives me a sly smile. “Have you seen her since you’ve been back? She’s only gotten more beautiful over the last nine years. Remember how I said I went to the grocery store the other day? I was leaving, but I glimpsed her walking into the store when I was pulling out of my parking spot.”
“I—” I shake my head, opting not to tell her just how horribly our last two encounters have gone. Nevermind not wanting to relive having my balls handed to me on a silver platter courtesy of a verbal lashing delivered by Sophie. “It doesn’t matter, Mom. She’s probably moved on, and that is for the best.”
“It is not for the best, Carter Joseph Williams!” Mom looks at me with a spark in her eyes I haven’t seen before. “What you two had back then, that was true love, I know it was. You never give up on true love.”
Mom’s not wrong. What Sophie and I had… I don’t know if I could ever find something like that with anyone else. Or that I would want to.
The parking lot of the rec center is empty when I pull up at four fifty, save for a white pickup truck and rust red, beat up sedan. Sophie and the contractor must already be here. The rink closes at four on Sundays, giving us the perfect opportunity to do a walkthrough without having to dodge the rec center patrons.
The contractor, a middle-aged and balding man with a bit of a belly, is standing in front of the doors to the center, shaking hands with Sophie.
“...The manager of the rinks. Nice to meet you, Mr. Henderson.” Her voice is calm and a professional smile is plastered on her face.
“Please, call me George,” he says, then glances at me as I approach, quickly dropping Sophie’s hand. “Mr. Williams! It really is you! I’m a huge fan.” Sophie rolls her eyes and glares in my direction.
“Carter,” I reach out my hand to shake his, “a pleasure to meet you in person, George. Shall we?” I motion to the building, and the three of us make our way to the rinks. On the way over, I go over the scope of the project while Sophie is eerily silent. The walk-thru is… awkward, to say the least. Not that George notices. He has his clipboard out, making notes of what needs repairs, then offers suggestions for remodeling.
Sophie and I walk behind him, answering questions and pointing out things that need updating. Despite the fact that she keeps as much space between us as possible, I can practically feel the heat radiating off her.
Sometimes I sense her eyes on me, but when I turn, she’s looking somewhere else.
“How long has it been since the wirings been updated?” George asks, tapping his clipboard. His eyes are on me, but I have no idea.
“1976,” Sophie clips out, “which we didn’t know until recently.”
George lets out a surprised sound, then jots something down on his board. “You mentioned issues with the cooling system under the rinks as well?”
Again, I have no idea what the answer to that is. Thank goodness I have Sophie here with me. “Yes,” she says, not looking at me. “We have to set the temp to around five degrees, even though the ice itself is around twenty. It uses way more power than if we had a system that works, and it runs up the electric bill.”
“Might be the out of date wiring…” George muses. “Though I’m going to take a guess and say that the cooling system hasn’t been replaced since?—”
“1976,” he and Sophie say at the same time, then both chuckle.
George puts his pen at the top of his clipboard and looks between the two of us, rubbing his jaw in thought. “We’re tearing down the building to rebuild, right?”
I’m just about to nod my agreement when a small sound comes from Sophie. Her expression stops me cold. Furrowed brows, a down turned mouth, and eyes full of despair meet me. George noticed her face as well and quickly backpedals. “Or, we could preserve it. Use the foundation and rebuild what needs to be while modernizing it. I’ll draw up the bid and email it to you, Mr. Williams.”
“You’ll have to send those suggestions to Sophie.” I nod my head towards her, “Per Mr. Scott, she gets the final say on everything.”
“Thank you for your deference, Mr. Williams,” Sophie says, an undertone of venom in her voice. “I honestly thought your ego would have a hard time accepting Mr. Benson’s words on that.”
Mr. Henderson shakes his head. “I’ll just send it to both of you so everyone’s on the same page. I’ll follow up in a couple of days.”
With that, he exits out the front doors, wishing us a pleasant rest of our evening. Without another look at me, Sophie follows after him.
“Sophie, come on. I feel like we could do really great things for the rink if we work together, but that’s impossible if you won’t talk to me.” My words have a tired, desperate edge to them, and she turns around. I think maybe she’ll finally listen.
“You’re right.” She sighs, running a hand through her hair. “If we’re going to work together, we should establish some boundaries.”
Boundaries? She wants more ways to keep us apart?
“We don’t need boundaries, Soph, we need to fix what’s between us.”
“How can you even say that, Carter?!” Her eyes are hard as steel, but I see the fucking tortured look behind them. “You have the gall to demand we fix it, fix ‘us,’ when you’re the one who broke it? Broke me?” Dammit. She’s not even wrong, but how can I explain to her what happened?
“Sophie, I swear, I never meant to do any of that.”
“You’re the only one in control of your actions.” She shakes her head. “You could have called. Gotten whatever was on your mind out into the open. Broken up with me and let me know where we went wrong. But no, you just… left me on read. Even after you got a new phone. You barely answered me on anything, and strung me along, making me worry about you! When clearly you were doing just fine without me.”
My hands shake, trying to hold back from pulling her into my arms and apologizing for every hurt I’ve ever caused her. Because I can’t even tell her it didn’t happen like that, or that she’s wrong. “I?—”
She doesn’t let me speak. It’s like a dam’s been broken and all of her words are tumbling out so quickly she can’t stop them.
“I finally moved on. I have a life, Carter. It may not be perfect, but it’s mine and I love it. Then you come back to town swinging, getting involved in the rec center, the place that we loved?—”
“I still love it!” My voice comes out louder than I intended. “I’m only doing what needs to be done?—”
“You just waltzed in here, throwing money at everything, thinking that gives you the right to take over and make all the decisions! If I weren’t here, you would have agreed to tear the building down!” Her face is twisted up in rage.
“I’m just trying to fucking saving it, Soph! Why can’t you see that?”
“Because I don’t believe that you care! You fucking left, Carter! You decided you didn’t want this town. That you didn’t want… me.” Her voice breaks at the last word, and just when I think I’m going to jump in and explain everything, she keeps going. “You wanted something new and exciting, so you left. Fuck everyone else and their feelings. Nobody heard from you for years. You became a damn ghost.”
I didn’t want to leave. I told her my dad made me the day it happened. “What the hell are you talking about?!” My voice echoes in the empty rink. “I didn’t leave because I fucking wanted to, you know that! Now I’m here and I want to help.”
What can I tell her to convince her I’m not here to destroy anything? That she’s been doing a damn good job managing the rink with what she has, but we’re past the point of tape and glue on this place?
“Sophie, there are things that you don’t?—”
She shakes her head, throwing her arms up. “No, I’m done. I’m an idiot for ever thinking what we had was real.”
Fuck that, I’m done with her shutting me down. She thinks I wanted to leave? That I didn’t want her anymore? That anything besides the threat of her safety could keep me from her? She couldn’t be more wrong. There’s only one way to show her.
She’s about to turn away from me again when I grab her by the back of the neck and slam my lips on hers.