Chapter 41
41
CHUCK
I see Ruby everywhere I go.
I’m losing my mind.
It starts at the coffee shop near the rink. I'm waiting for my order when I spot a flash of red hair in the corner. My heart leaps into my throat, and I'm halfway across the room before I realize it's just a guy with dyed hair reading a comic book.
"Chuck?" the barista calls out, snapping me back to reality.
I grab my coffee and practically run out of the shop, feeling like an idiot. This has to stop.
But it doesn't. Throughout the day, I find myself searching for her in every crowd, every store window, every passing car. It's like my brain has been rewired to seek out anything remotely Ruby-like.
I nearly drop my basket on my foot when I think I see her in the grocery store. It's just another redhead, not even close to Ruby's shade, but for a second, my whole world tilts on its axis.
I’m definitely losing it.
"Get a grip, Newcomb," I mutter to myself as I hustle to pay and get the hell home. "She's not here. She doesn't want to be here. Move on."
But moving on is easier said than done when every corner of this city seems to hold a memory of her. The library where she works, which I’ve driven by more times than I care to admit. The bookstore where I imagine she'd love to spend hours browsing. Even the stupid health food store where I buy my protein shakes—I catch myself wondering if she shops here and what kind of food she likes.
It's pathetic. I'm pathetic.
A thought that's been niggling at the back of my mind for days finally pushes its way to the forefront. Maybe I need to leave San Francisco. Request a trade to another team, start fresh in a new city where everything doesn't remind me of her.
The idea simultaneously terrifies and excites me. A clean slate. No memories, no ghosts of what could have been. Just me, the ice, and a chance to reinvent myself.
I'm still mulling it over when my phone buzzes with a text. It's from Vince Vincent, the team's PR guy. My stomach drops because hearing from PR is rarely a good thing, at least in my experience.
Hey Chuck, quick question. Who's the redhead you were with in Costa Rica?
I stare at the message, my blood running cold. How does he know about Ruby? I haven't told anyone on the team about her, not even Tyler.
Huh? How do you know about that?
Vince's response comes almost immediately.
There are photos of you two together all over social media. Didn't you know?
"Shit, shit, shit," I mutter, nearly rear-ending the car in front of me as I pull up to a stoplight. Those photos the guy was taking at the resort—they must have gotten out.
No, I didn't know. I don’t use social media. You know that. How bad is it?
Not terrible, but we should get ahead of it. People are speculating. And Chuck? You might want to give Tyler a heads up. That's his sister, right?
I let my head fall forward onto the steering wheel, narrowly missing the horn. This is a disaster. Tyler's going to kill me. And Ruby... what must she be thinking?
Yeah, it's his sister. Thanks for the heads up. I'll handle it.
But how am I going to handle this? Yeah buddy, I lied to you big time. Truth is, I banged the shit out of your sister…
Tyler's not just my teammate, he's my friend. And Ruby made it clear she wanted nothing to do with me once we left Costa Rica. Now our little vacation fling is splashed all over the internet for everyone to see.
As if on cue, my phone starts blowing up with notifications. Texts from teammates, missed calls from my agent, even a voicemail from my mother, a conversation I'm definitely not ready for.
I ignore them all, instead taking a deep breath and pulling up a search for ‘Chuck Newcomb Costa Rica.’ I need to see what the hell is going on before I do anything else. And there we are, in full color. Ruby and me by the pool, laughing over something I can't remember now. The two of us walking on the beach at sunset, her hand in mine. A series of shots from that last night in the treehouse, the candlelit dinner I'd arranged. In every photo, we look... happy. In love, even.
My chest aches as I scroll through the images. We look good together. Really good. Like we fit.
But we don't fit. Ruby made that clear. We're too different. It would never work. Etcetera, etcetera.
So why does seeing these photos make me want to try again?
I'm startled out of my thoughts by a honk behind me. The light's turned green. I shake my head, putting my phone down and drive on autopilot back to my apartment.
As I walk through my front door, my phone buzzes again. This time, it's Tyler.
Dude. We need to talk. Now.
I close my eyes, taking a deep breath. This is it. The moment of truth. Do I lie to my friend, pretend nothing happened between his sister and me, aside from keeping each other company in a weird situation? Or do I come clean, risk our friendship, and possibly my place on the team?
And what about Ruby? Should I warn her about the photos? Try to explain? Or respect her wishes and keep my distance?
As I stand in my empty apartment, staring at Tyler's message, I realize something. For all my talk of moving on, of focusing on hockey, I've been lying to myself. Because the truth is, I'd give it all up—the game, the fame, everything—for another chance with this woman.
But it's not up to just me. It's up to her too.
With a heavy sigh, I type out a response to Tyler.
Yeah, we do need to talk.
As I hit send, I can't help but wonder—is this the end of something. Or the beginning?