Chapter 21 #2
“Daddy’s going to get a hat trick! Go… go… goooo!” she shouts.
We all clasp hands, and I feel the slightest tap on my shoulder. I don’t want to tear my eyes away from the ice.
Haddy is beside me. Heather is on the other side of her, and we’re all watching, waiting, hoping.
Once again, tapping on my shoulder. Only this time it’s more insistent.
Exhaling a soft growl, I let go of Haddy’s hand to turn and see who (TF!) is bugging me in the third period of the most exciting game we’ve had all season, with Owen teed up to score a hat trick.
“What is it?” I do my best to gentle my tone as I turn around.
My heart stills in my chest when I see a tallish guy, a little under six-feet, standing in front of me. His light brown hair is cut high and tight, and a pair of horn-rimmed glasses are perched on his nose.
He’s slim, dressed in a maroon sweater and jeans, and he has both hands shoved in his pockets.
“Baxter.” It’s not a question. It’s a statement of utter disbelief.
“Hi, Gina.” He ducks his head, looking down. “I figured I’d find you here… with Mav playing and all.”
I’m not sure whether to be shocked or pissed. “What do you want?”
“You won’t answer any of my texts.” He has the nerve to give me a look of confusion.
“I blocked you.”
“Oh.” His chin pulls back as if I’d hit him. “That seems rude.”
“Does it?” I can’t keep the sarcasm out of my tone. “As rude as sleeping with someone and then completely disappearing without a single word for more than a year?”
His lips press together, and he lifts his chin, looking out at the guys on the ice. He actually makes a pretty decent pensive expression. Bastard.
Then his brown eyes return to me. “I need to talk to you. I have something I need to say.”
“I’m sorry.” I shake my head. “I’m really not interested in what you need to say to me. Maybe a year ago I’d have wanted to know, but now… I honestly don’t care.”
“Please, Gina.” His tone is a mixture of firm and pleading, and I try to decide just how annoyed I am right now.
“You’ve really got some nerve coming here like this and demanding to speak to me.”
“Would you just give me five minutes? I think it would help us both.”
Haddy turns at my side now, and her face wrinkles with horror. “What are you doing here? Can’t you take a hint?”
“Hi, Hayden. I just need to talk to Gina for a minute.”
My cousin puts a hand on her hip, looking from him to me. “What do you think?”
“Please,” he says again, brown eyes fixed on mine. “I’ll never bother you again.”
“Oh, good grief.” I grab his arm, dragging him into the aisle and down the steps to the hallway that leads to the concourse.
He follows me into the narrow space, and I stop, crossing my arms and facing him. “Make it quick.”
A loud Aw! comes from outside in the stadium, and I look over my shoulder. I want to get back to the game and see if Owen makes his third goal.
“Well, you see…” Baxter looks down, his light-brown hair falling over his eyes. “It’s like this, Gina. I’m an addict.”
My arms fall to my sides, and curiosity takes the lead over my anger. “An addict?” He nods, but I’m confused. I never saw any signs of… “What kind of addict?”
“Well…” He clears his throat. “I’ve struggled with narcotics since I was in a car accident two years ago. I thought I’d beaten it when we were together, but an old friend came to visit after that night, and… well…” His voice lowers. “I hadn’t.”
I momentarily forget about the game, taking a deep inhale. “I’m really sorry to hear about that.”
“I went on a binge, and when I came around, I was sleeping in a park in another city. I didn’t know where I was.” He winces, studying his hands. “That was my rock-bottom, I guess. I knew I had to get myself clean or I might not make it.”
Frowning, I scratch my eyebrow trying to figure out the nicest way to say I’m glad he’s okay, and I really have moved on. Thanks for letting me know. See ya.
“Well… that’s really awful.” I give him a sympathetic tone. “I’m glad you told me, I guess, rather than letting me think it was something I did.”
“You didn’t do anything. You were great. I really enjoyed spending time with you and all the dogs and everything.” He shook his head. “I was obsessed.”
“You were kind of a love-bomber.” I think about all the nonstop dates… which I had thought was about getting in my pants. Maybe it was?
Crossing his arms, he looks down. “Sleeping with you was so good. It was so—”
“That’s okay.” I cut him off. “We don’t have to relive it.”
“Right.” He nods. “Sorry. Ahh… part of my recovery is to find people I’ve hurt and try to make amends. It’s like step nine? So I was trying to see if there’s some way I can make it up to you that doesn’t cause harm to you or to anyone else.”
My brows rise, and I straighten. “That’s not really necessary.”
“It would help me a lot if you’d let me do something.”
I’m so involved with our conversation, I only barely notice the screams and air-horns going off behind me in the arena. Music plays, and the game has probably ended.
“Honestly, there isn’t anything. I mean, how do you make up for a broken heart?”
His eyes widen. “I broke your heart?”
As I think about the words, I think about how my heart has been the more I’ve gotten to know Owen.
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I only thought you broke my heart. The truth is, I’ve learned a lot about love in the past few months, and it was really more the confusion and the self-doubt that hurt me. After you ghosted, I mean.”
“I ghosted you,” he nods, looking down again. “Man, that was a shitty thing to do.”
“Yeah.” I nod, looking down as well.
I’m not about to let him off the hook for it. It was really shitty, and I felt like shit for a long time.
“It made it hard for me to trust people,” I add.
His eyes squeeze shut, and he rubs his fingers over them. “Dang. How do I make amends for that?”
Inhaling deeply, I straighten, considering the question. “You know, just coming here and telling me all of this… it doesn’t turn back the clock, but I can let it go now. I don’t have to wonder why or what happened anymore. That’s amends.”
“Is it?” He frowns, looking up at me. “It doesn’t feel like enough. Like maybe you should punch me in the face or something.”
A laugh breaks from my throat, and I shake my head. “I think that would violate the ‘no harm’ part of the step.”
He huffs a laugh, nodding. “I always wondered what that meant. I guess it means I shouldn’t allow you to beat me to death.”
“Trust me, I imagined hitting you in the head with a frying pan several times.”
“You’re a really great girl, Gina.” He holds out both hands. “Would a hug be a way to make amends?”
My lips press into a half-smile, and I shrug. “Sure, why not?”
Stepping forward, I put my arms around his waist, and he wraps his arms around my shoulders, pulling me flush against his torso. He squeezes, making silly grunting noises, and I laugh. I try to step back, but he holds me tighter.
“What is this? One of those thirty-second hugs?” I quip, not really wanting to hug him anymore.
My hands move to his waist in more of a pushing back fashion, and he finally relaxes his squeeze. “You always smell so good… like cherries.”
The skin on the back of my neck prickles, and I don’t like the sound of that. It’s too intimate—a lot like the way he’s looking at me right now.
“Well, consider us all amended.” I pat his shoulder, giving him a parting smile. “Take care, Bax, and I hope you continue to improve.”
His brown eyes are warm, but I’m done here. I turn, and when I see the man standing at the entrance to the hall, dressed in full Champions hockey gear, helmet off, brow lowered in anger, my heart drops all the way to my feet.
“Owen… What are you doing here?” My voice is a shaky gasp.
Without a word, he turns and walks straight out of the hall.