Chapter 26
Twenty Six
Noah
It’s worse.
And it keeps getting worse and worse as the days pass.
Whatever this illness is that I have had since the day Andie walked out on me has been hanging over me like a dark fucking cloud.
It’s different than the ones I usually have. I survive them, having already made them a part of me.
But this is…this is different. The hurt on her face as she escaped my apartment haunts me day in and day out. The detached tone with which she spoke her last words to me sliced my heart open.
And whose fault is that?
My brain adds fuel to the fire raging inside of me.
I’d kick myself in my ass if possible. I hate myself for ruining her first sexual experience.
She should’ve been cared for, pampered, but I went ahead, took her virginity, and told her she has no business asking me the simplest of fucking questions.
I haven’t seen her or talked to her for almost two weeks now, and it’s like I’m having withdrawals with how often I contemplate barging at her house and dropping to my knees at her feet, and begging for her forgiveness.
I feel like I can’t breathe, like the vines of her absence have wrapped themselves around my heart so tightly that now they’re suffocating, digging into the organ, bleeding me dry.
My days have lost color without her. She has taken her rainbow with her, snatching all the colors on my spectrum. What’s worse is that I’m hanging onto the memories of her like an addict to his fix.
I miss her shiny hair wrapped around my fist. I miss her eyes full of life as she shows me the consideration and kindness that not a single soul ever did. I miss the way she laughs with her heart full. I miss the way her lips feel on my skin—soft, warm, and safe.
But most of all, I miss her.
It doesn’t just stop at that, though. My mood swings have been worse than before. The guys have started maintaining their distance from my ‘grumpy ass’ as they so eloquently call it, moving around me on eggshells, waiting for me to erupt.
Even Seb is not joking around me or poking fun at me. And the dude can find a reason to crack a joke in a fucking funeral. If he can’t be funny around me, then it’s bad. Hell, he instantly averts his eyes the second they collide with mine.
When Ezra pads over to me in the locker room as we get dressed for the warm-ups before the game, I know I’m in for a session.
Fuck, I can’t look at the man without thinking of how sweet his sister tastes, or how hypnotizing her honey smell is.
I instantly wash away any sign of his sister from my face. Do not want to get into something before the game. However, hiding from him is taking its toll on me, weighing me down in guilt.
“You good, man?” Ezra asks as he leans against the stall, ready in his gear to head out.
I flick my eyes at him once and then avert them back to my hands, focusing on putting on my gloves. “Hmm,” I grunt in response, fisting and un-fisting my hand.
“You’ve got to stop it, Noah. It’s scaring the guys.
In all the time we’ve known you, it hasn’t been this bad,” he points out, concern evident in his tone as his eyes scan me up as if that’ll give him an insight into what’s going on.
He sidles up closer to me, so only I can hear.
“You know you can tell me anything, right. What’s wrong, Noah?
” he clasps my shoulder, squeezing it to encourage me to open up.
What would I even tell the man? That I fucked your sister and broke her heart after she trusted me with her body. That I’m an asshole who brought tears to her beautiful eyes.
No, I can’t.
For once in my life, I wish I were this gloomy because of my dad’s call or something. And not because I stole the smile from Andie’s face.
The thought reminds me of the fucking cause behind it all. His fucking call right in the morning. The morning when I should’ve woken her up with my mouth between her legs.
He ruins everything.
He steals everything, even when he doesn’t realize it.
My family is a curse. He’s fucking poison, bleeding into my life, seeping into every bridge I build and destroying it, leaving me helpless, lonely, and too fucking scared to be happy.
The melancholy converts to rage, flowing into every vein in my body. Anger, that’s good. That doesn’t make me wanna hole up and drown in a bottle.
Fury makes me wanna obliterate everything in my path. It gives me something else to focus on other than Andie’s sad fucking expression.
“Dude?” Ezra’s voice travels past my thoughts, pulling me out of my mind.
My gaze turns to him, body vibrating with the need to crush something.
“I’m fine. Let’s fucking win.” That’s all I say before grabbing my helmet and striding right out of the locker room and on the ice with the intention to bury every fucker who thinks they can get their puck past me and into the net.
I’m a fucking wall.
* * *
“Cheers!” The guys yell over the loud thumping music as we find ourselves seated in The Tap after scoring a W.
I had no plans to show up here today, wanting to ruminate in my misery alone. But since the moment I heard Ezra talking to Kaeli on his phone and eavesdropped on their conversation in hopes of getting any crumb of information about Andie, I’ve been glued to his side.
Apparently, Kaeli was telling him that she’s showing up with Andie and one other friend whose name I don’t care to remember.
The mood and lighting are what you’d expect at a sports bar.
I swirl the glass of beer in my hand, barely taking a sip as I tune into the conversation at our table. I’m sitting between Seb and Ezra as Levi, Oliver, and Lucas sit opposite us on the circular table.
Lucas leans in, his elbows on the table as he speaks, “Any of you heard the rumors lately?”
“You know we aren’t into that shit, Lucas. It’s always about some scandal that’s hardly true anyway,” Ezra scoffs, leaning back into the cushioned seat and taking a sip of his IPA, his foot tapping impatiently under the table—probably because he can’t wait to set his sights on his woman.
It’s understandable, though. Anyone in his position would be worried sick for their partner. The stalking and kidnapping almost stole Kaeli from him. So, seeing him eyeing the door every chance he gets only makes me feel bad for the dude.
I squeeze his leg under the table, and he gives me a grateful nod.
“Ooooh, I wanna know,” Seb chimes from my other side, splashing drops of beer on the table as he slams the glass a little too quickly.
“Of course, you do, Nosy,” Levi scoffs, eyeing a guy dancing with some woman. Bored, my gaze flicks over to the guy and finds him giving a flirty smile back. Levi is bisexual, proudly might I add. And I love that for the dude.
Accepting your sexuality in this world that can sometimes be too bigoted and small-minded isn’t easy. Especially when you play such a ‘manly’ game for a national team, you have the world’s eyes on you. Always waiting for you to step out of the line so they can write up their next gossip blog.
Being open about it takes guts, too. So, I’m really honored and proud to know the man and be his teammate.
Levi winks back at the man, and we all know that’s who he is celebrating tonight’s win with.
Lucas takes this as the sign to share with us his less-than-confirmed information. “They’re saying Kyle’s up for trade next season.”
He drops the bomb, and all of us freeze, drinking ceasing mid air, Levi’s head twisting to us so fast I’m surprised he still has it on his shoulders.
Ezra’s worried gaze slides over to me, as do mine to him. Everyone in the hockey world and fucking outside knows that Kyle Turner is bad news. He’s reckless, violent, and an aggravator with no sense of fucking bedside manners.
I still haven’t forgotten what he pulled with my guys the last time we played. If I ever got my hands on that guy off the ice ever again, I don’t even know how far I’d go. I rarely get violent, but when I do, God save the target of my wrath.
“But that can’t be true, right?” Oliver looks among us, slightly on edge. Yeah, Kyle has that effect on most people.
“Of course, not. The team to sign him would be stupid,” Levi comments, slapping the table and laughing awkwardly at his own joke. Because it’s not. Any team to sign him would be certifiably stupid.
“But what if it’s true and the Bandits sign him?” Seb, ever the shit stirrer, cracks his untimely joke, with his arm sprawled over the backrest of the seat, gulping his drink as if he didn’t just say what we all heard he did.
What did I say? Jokes, funerals.
“Don’t tempt the fucking fate, Rookie!” Lucas spits at him, his drink forgotten as his eyes turn to slits and he glares at Seb.
Seb raises his shoulders, unbothered. “What!? You were the one who thought it would be a good idea to share it with us.”
Ezra and I look at each other and cock our eyebrows, because for once the rookie is right. Lucas’s face turns a shade of red as he scoffs, “Whatever.”
“For your sake, I hope you’re wrong,” I direct my words at him, before taking a sip of my own drink.
He swallows an audible gulp, probably cursing himself for bringing this up. Drowning his drink in one go, he’s off to bore someone else to death. Dude needs to learn what to speak and when.
Ezra jabs his elbow into my side, causing me to grunt and look at him in surprise. “Stop scaring the guys, man,” he says, looking at me with pointed eyes and using that captain voice of his.
I grunt again in a begrudging agreement.
Seb’s arm slides over my shoulder as he dares to speak to me in God knows how many days. But all attention is soon snagged by the women walking through the front door of the bar as the bell rings over their heads.
Kaeli is the first one to spot us and starts making her way to her boyfriend, who’s now lit up like a Christmas tree. Never saw the man wearing this big a grin before.
But that’s the least of my concerns, because like a moth to a fucking flame, my eyes collide with the ocean ones. The ones that had tears the last time we were together.