CHAPTER 4
SASHA
I had scoured every picture I was tagged in that night and there wasn't a trace of her.
How is it possible in this day and age that not even a side profile was captured?
There were hundreds of pictures of me on the ice at Rockefeller Plaza and Lucy was in none of them.
She didn't even post the one with me and Paulie.
I took my frustration out on practice. I took my frustration out in the workout room. And, to be honest, I took my frustration out on my dick. Now everything thing hurt as much as my heart did.
“Sarge! Get your head out of your ass!” Coach yelled across the ice for me to pick up the tempo, but he was right.
I'd been distracted and the worst thing for a hockey player is to be distracted.
I should be getting in my ice time, concentrating on our next game and sleeping.
Not thinking about a girl I talked to for an hour, with a mouth I'd like to cover with mine and a body I wish I had seen in less than a giant coat.
I still remember the way she felt in my hands as I sat her down. Heavy, in the best way possible.
I put my frustration on the ice, wildly pushing my skates to the brink. Keeping my head down and trying to remember what I loved about the sport. We did skills training, keep-aways and practiced new plays to find our line on the ice.
But I still felt like the new guy.
Practice was done and I raced to the showers.
I didn't want the questions to come, because they would be brutal.
Jonesy, our right wing, had heard me ask one of the head of media to keep an eye out for anything related to Paulie or Lucy and I got shit for at least an hour.
The entire time on my spin bike was nothing but “Who is Lucy? Is she your girl? Is she your lover? Do you love her?”
A man can only be pestered for so long before he throws someone across the room.
I would rather get chirped by the entire opposing team then by my own.
Especially Jonesy, a kid with too much enthusiasm for his own good.
I would rather get dusted into the boards or have my head dog piled than listen to the kid get excited at my dilemma.
She was just a girl, right? But why can't I stop thinking about her?
“So, who is she?” Reeds, out of nowhere, starts in the showers.
“Christ.” I let my head fall back and stared at the ceiling.
“Oh, come on, the kid couldn't contain his excitement. So, who is she?” Reeds stole some of my shampoo as he can never find his own.
“I'll never know because I can't find her and I didn't ask for her number.” It was only the two of us in there. The sound of everyone else in the locker room shooting the shit, echoing off the tiles.
“Google her.”
“I only know her first name and I don't think she is from the city. I only talked to her for an hour. She fell on the ice.” My head thud against the tile.
“OMG and you rescued her? Did you carry her off the ice?” He batted his eyelashes at me. He was a pretty guy and he used it to his advantage.
“Shut up. I helped her off the ice. But she isn't the kind of woman who needs rescuing that's for sure.” The thought made my dick hard, which was a big no-no in the showers.
But it was the truth. I had thought about it for the last week. The fire in her eye as she was going to attack those little assholes. Her high school story she told me and her mouth. Just the thought of her foul mouth has been lingering.
“Well, then what does she need you for? If she can fight herself that makes you obsolete. Don't let it fuck up your skate dude.” Reeds left in a hurry.
His words hit me hard. Was that all he saw me as?
I knew this new team in the middle of the season would be tough, but as of now I thought it was going smoothly.
I had been with my last and only team for twelve years.
Now I got the chance to play in my home, NYC.
I didn't think the dust would be taking this long to blow off with the guys.
The locker room was still buzzing with gossip. Reeds was now talking about a girl he brought home from the bar. Colton was complaining about his wife. Brennan, second line center, was dry humping the air to a Beyonce song.
“God, her vocals are incredible.” He shouts too loud.
I changed quickly. I wasn't mad at anyone, just mad at myself. I could have just asked for her number. But the last place I wanted to be was in the locker room with twenty other guys talking about all the beautiful tail they were getting when I wasn't.
And it wasn't even just about her ass. No, it was more than that. I just wanted to be around her, after a damn hour. There was something between us I'd never felt before. Excitement. Anticipation. Lust.
“You OK, Sarge?” Murph's gravely voice pulled me away from my spiraling thoughts.
We were locker mates, sitting next to each other since I arrived.
I liked him to my right. As the other defenseman on our line, we made a good team.
He wasn't a bullshitter and probably the person I was closest to. But he wasn't a talker.
“News already got around, huh? That kid has a big mouth.” I looked over to Jonesy who is giggling while looking at his phone.
“I'm talking about your skating. You usually don't go that hard.”
“I feel like I missed an opportunity with a girl. Not a big deal. I just can't get her out of my head.”
“I know the feeling.”
My gut dropped. Murph had lost his wife a few years ago to breast cancer.
I wasn't on his team then, but I did play him his first game back and we were all wrecked.
Wives got held a little tighter that night.
I even held my girl at the time closer to my heart, even if she stomped on it later that year.
I didn't know what to say. So, I clamped my hand down on his shoulder and patted it twice. Murph just bobbed his head in thanks.
“Don't stop trying to find her. Even if it's just for a chance to see how things go. Alright?”
“Yeah, OK Murph.”
“And don't let these Jabronis make you feel like shit about it. We all love hockey, but a hockey stick can't warm your bed at night.” Murph left me with that as he headed for the showers.
“I'll just cover myself in money if I ever get cold.” Reeds whispered once he knew Murph was out of earshot. They treated him differently too.
“You guys have a good night.” I was about to walk out of the locker room and head to my mother's house for lunch.
“Hey Sarge, why don't you come out to the bar with us after the game tomorrow? We can find you someone to make you forget about your mystery girl.” Brennan, who was all talk because he was owned by his wife, shouted after me.
“Not likely.” I smirked and couldn't leave fast enough.
Even though my day was shit, I couldn't help but love what finally being home in New York had gifted me.
Sure, I didn't completely gel with the new guys, my skating sucked and I missed Lucy, but I finally had family near me.
And walking up to my mother's apartment made everything OK. It smelled like pierogies.
“Matka!” I yelled for my mother as I opened the door. The smell of onions and butter making my stomach growl.
“In here!” She called out, but I knew where she was. The kitchen.
I followed the smell of my childhood down the hall and into the wide open space that was the kitchen and living room.
She had been reluctant for me to buy her a new apartment, but I couldn't let her stay in the same two bedroom her and my father bought in the nineties.
I made too much money for her to not have a washing machine.
“Hey, loser.” Erica greeted me. She was sitting at the high counter, watching Mom cook and texting. Always on her phone.
I went in to give her a hug and rubbed my finger over the screen.
“Stop!” She whined.
“Enough with the two of you. Sasha, you just arrived, stop torturing your sister! I don't know why I had children!” She lovingly barked as she threw a dish towel at me.
“Guaranteed citizenship?” Erica quipped.
My mother gasped and then laughed and then spanked my twenty-three-year-old sister as she ran towards her room.
“That one.” She pointed towards Erica's room.
“I've been away too long and she is a brat.” I took a seat on a high stool, salivating over the sight of fried pierogies in a pan with half pound of butter. If the team's nutritionist saw this he would freak. It wasn't my fault my mother cooked better than him.
“She'll be OK. She broke up with that girl and she has been sulking ever since.”
My heart felt sick for her. I didn't know. She didn't tell me. “Oh.” I whispered out.
“You're here now and I made your favorite to celebrate.” My mother held out the family plate full of pierogies and fried onions. The smell, hell, that smell was everything that was good in the world right now.
I ate in silence. Closing my eyes with every bite, trying my best to forget about the last few days. I didn't want to over think why letting Lucy slip away was having such an effect on me. But it was, and all I wanted to do was drown the thoughts away in butter.
“You're going to tell me what is wrong? You don't like my food? I'll take it back.”
I gave her a look. “You know that isn't it. Apparently, I'm really bad at hiding when something is bothering me because everyone knows about it.”
“He is missing a girl.” Erica returned from her room and stabbed my plate with her fork.
“Oh, really? Not that nasty one that I will kill the next time I see her right?” My mother's eyes narrowed.
“You can't kill her because she broke up with me, Mom.”
“I can kill anyone who hurts my child. It is my right as a mother.” She patted her mouth with a napkin, fully believing her own statement.
“No, it isn't her.” I rolled my eyes and started to drink some hot tea she always set out on the table.
“It's a random girl he made googly eyes at after he helped her off the ice the other day.”
“You were watching! You spy!” I threw my napkin at my sister.
“You're so oblivious and so dense. Why didn't you get her number?” Erica poked at the food some more.