Chapter 24 Loose Ends
LOOSE ENDS
REN
Running drills after no sleep is always a fun experience.
Running drills while your emotions are completely fucked is a fun experience for only you.
“Fucking back off, Rafferty,” Warren yells, picking himself off the ice after I ran him over—again.
Laughing, I skate off, not at all sorry that I’ve made him eat ice several times this session.
I mean, at least I’m not trying to stab him while his back is turned in a dark locker room, so he should be grateful.
The whistle sounds and Coach shouts, “Get some water.”
I head toward the boards only to have Coach shout my name from behind me, so I turn back to him. “Since you can’t seem to play fair against him,” Coach states, his glare and pointed finger both directed straight at me. “Then you can play with him.”
“Fuck my life,” I mutter, even more annoyed than I was before. It’s kind of impossible to fuck with someone on your own team. And get away with it.
Too bad for Warren, I’m not looking to get away with anything.
First play, I don’t bother trying to play with him; instead, I check him into the boards. “Learn how to skate, asshole.”
I’m being childish, I won’t deny it. But with how fucked up the last few days have been, I can think of no one better for me to take my frustration out on than this fucking yahoo.
Warren bounces off the board this time, spinning around and chasing after me. “If you got something to say, how about you just fucking say it, you goddamn dickwad.”
“Pretty sure I already said what a piece of shit you are.”
“You’re just jealous that you ain’t getting any younger and pretty soon you’ll be shipped off to an old folks home while I’m still here skating for glory.”
That son of a—I throw my stick down, then my gloves. “You want a fucking piece of me, you motherfucker.”
Warren comes at me, stick and gloves down. “Yeah, old man, I’ll kick your fucking ass.”
We crash into each other, hands grabbing, fists swinging, but mostly we just fling each other around in an attempt to get a shot in. Hands grab at me, but then Coach barks, “Leave ‘em be,” and everyone steps back.
I’m bigger than Warren, but he’s a lot younger, so basically we take turns knocking the snot out of each other, neither of us trying too hard because really, what are we gonna do.
Our teammates look on, not cheering or rooting for either of us, likely because all we’ve done is make practice more difficult for all of them.
We only get a few minutes into it before we step away from each other, both of us lying on the ice, panting for breath.
I half consider a last sucker punch just cause he deserves it, but then Dave is in front of me, urging me to stand on my skates.
Someone brings me my gloves and stick, and then my helmet gets dropped on my head just in time for Coach blow his whistle, loudly.
“Now that you got blood on my ice, I think we can call it a day,” Coach states, his dirty look directed at me. “Be back here bright and early tomorrow and bring your A game only. Your B game may as well fucking stay home.”
Everyone mutters their agreement, knowing full well that showing up tomorrow with anything less than a full tank will be a mistake.
Slowly, I make my way back to the locker room, limping to my stall, where I start dumping my gear haphazardly. My phone lights up on the shelf, so I retrieve it, taking note of the multiple messages before opening the message app.
Cassidy: I’m sorry.
Cassidy: I’m also sorry this apology is not in person, but since apologizing isn’t something I’m very good at, I figure this is a good start.
Cassidy: And to be clear, I’m sorry for not telling you as soon as I suspected. And I’m sorry I didn’t at least tell you once I confirmed
Cassidy: And I’m even sorrier for the HORRIBLE things I said to you when I felt cornered and scared. There’s no reasonable excuse for treating you like that, and I’ll try to work through it in a more appropriate manner in the future.
Cassidy: I also want you to know that I only went to one appt so far. It was my PCP, just for a blood test and an OB referral.
Cassidy: And now I’m sorry I sent these during your practice, and I have to wait for your response. A fitting punishment, I suppose lol
I stare at the string of texts, not entirely certain how to respond. I fully expected her to pretend none of it had happened, and I was okay with it. So having her bring it up, even in text, feels like a huge obstacle has been removed from the equation.
Ren: Thank you for explaining, Cassidy. I appreciate it.
Cassidy:
Cassidy: Will you come to my first OB appt?
Ren: Of course. I want to go to all of your appts with you.
Cassidy:
Cassidy: And thanks…
Ren: For?
Cassidy: Sending in reinforcements.
Ren: I got u babe
I stare at my last text, feeling like an idiot. Who the fuck says that?
Groaning, I attempt to word something less cringe, but after deleting a few in a row, I give up. Better to leave it at one cringy message than end up with a volley of cringy messages.
“Rafferty,” Warren’s voice sounds from behind me. I only jump a little bit, then turn slowly, brows raised in question. His right eye is already swelling, his split lip oozing slightly, making me feel a bit better for the stings and aches on my own person.
He eyes me for a moment then says, “Can we call a truce…please?”
“You gonna talk shit about my wife?”
“Jesus Christ, Ren,” he mutters, appearing a bit shamed at the reminder. “No, I won’t. I never woulda if I’d known, you have to know that.”
“And attempting to shiv me while my back was turned?”
He rolls his eyes then sighs. “It wasn’t real.”
I cock my head slightly, as if I’m having a hard time hearing him. “Excuse me?”
His expression turns sheepish as he explains, “I just wanted to fuck with you. Give you a good fright. The knife wasn’t real.”
“For fuck’s sake, Warren, you can’t do that shit.”
“I know, I know,” he responds, hands palm-up in front of him. “I’ve learned my lesson, believe me.”
“You’re lucky Declan warned you,” I mutter, shaking my head at his juvenile idiocy. “You could’ve ended up seriously injured over a prank.”
Warren’s bark of laughter lacks all humor. “You ain’t kiddin’.” He looks around nervously then leans in, whispers, “Who would’ve thought that Declan Hughes would be such a stone-cold killer type?”
I raise a hand, point at him as I retort, “And no one ever better be the wiser either.”
He steps back, shakes his head. “Nah, I won’t say anything, I swear.”
I give him a good once over, not noticing any obvious tell that he’s full of shit. I sigh then say, “If you wanna make it in this game, you’re gonna have to grow the fuck up.”
He scowls, and I can tell he wants to say something snarky, so I hold up my hand and add, “Believe me, I would know. I’m sure you read about some of the questionable shit I pulled when I was your age.”
He half smiles and nods. “Yeah, I may have. You did have a wild streak there for a while.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” I retort. “But one day I woke up and realized that the kind of future I wanted for myself wasn’t paved by the life I was living. And I changed. You can too.”
“And if I have no grand aspirations for the perfect life like you?”
I laugh, shake my head. “Then just keep on doing what you’re doing. But maybe less douchey.”
His eyes narrow, but then he grins, sticks his hand out in offering. “As long as you keep telling me where that line is, that won’t be a problem.”
I eye his hand suspiciously, not quite trusting this new side of Warren, but also wanting to give him the benefit of the doubt. So, after a brief pause, I grasp his hand in mine—maybe a touch tighter than necessary—give it a hearty shake. “Deal.”
Warren pretends not to wince, then releases my hand and turns away with a little nod. I watch him go, suddenly feeling a bit lighter, even if my face is starting to throb a bit.
Then a hand slaps my shoulder, “Hey man,” and I jump, turn toward the hand and the familiar voice. “Goddamn it, Dec, who keeps letting you back here?”
Declan grins. “I don’t know their name.”
“How do you keep getting back here, again?”
He looks at me as if I’m the stupidest person who ever existed then retorts, “I’m Declan fucking Hughes, Ren. There is no how.”
Some of the guys around me are twittering already, proving his point that all it takes is the fact he is who he is to get people to notice and do his bidding. It helps that he’s also a standup guy, but still. “I’m gonna have to speak to security.”
Declan leans his head back, laughs loudly. Then he immediately sobers and responds, “I also carry a lot of cash, just in case.”
Sighing I pretend to glare at him, not that it would do a bit of good with this guy. “What do you want?”
“I got those papers you were looking for.”
I immediately brighten. “That was quick.”
“You expected anything less?”
I pretend to think over the question until he looks like he’s going to hit me, then I laugh and ask, “How’d you get her to agree?”
“Agree?”
“Declan,” I sputter. “Surely you got her to agree to the change?”
He presses his lips together, squints at me, but says nothing so I add, “If you didn’t get her to agree then what did she think she was signing?”
Declan levels me with a disgruntled look. “You didn’t tell me I had to get her signature.”
I frown. “How the hell else would you legally be able to change her name?”
“Legally, schmegally,” he mutters, apparently not at all bothered by the fact he missed some very obvious steps in the process.
“Maybe we better undo it.”
Declan’s eyes widen. “We can’t just undo it, Ren.”
“If you could do it without permission you sure as shit should be able to undo it.”
“That’s not how this works there, buddy.”
“Don’t you buddy me, you asshole,” I reply, resuming the removal of my gear, wishing I didn’t have to shower and get dressed because suddenly I’m bone tired.
I sit heavily on the bench in front of my stall, looking around at the almost empty locker room. Declan still stands beside me appearing as nonchalant as ever and I shake my head, wondering what it’s like to be him.
“Don’t look so worried,” Declan’s says as he pats me on the back. “She’s gonna love it.”
“She’s gonna kill me, Dec,” I retort, my sore hands flexing as I contemplate giving him a good punch. “This’ll be it for me.”
“Come on,” he responds, his hand squeezing my shoulder. “You know I won’t let you take the fall.”
“I appreciate that, but I don’t need you blowing your cover on your potentially questionable deeds.”
Declan grins. “Ahh come on, Ren. What are brothers for?”