Chapter Ten
JENNA
Ithought I’d seen it all when it came to Tommy Schneider.
But nothing could’ve prepared me—or anyone else who watched the Blades away series against the Scorpions a few nights ago—for that crazy display of pure rage from Tommy.
The fight, the way he lost his shit in the penalty box, smashing his stick until it cracked from brute force.
He’s an animal with zero sense of remorse, beating that poor rookie to an absolute pulp.
And why?
Because Tommy Schneider is little more than a thug, using hockey as an excuse to vent his rage.
The media is speculating that his career will be over well before his dad’s was, and I personally can’t foresee an outcome where it isn’t. He’s on a slippery slope to nowhere.
I witnessed the way he spoke to Sawyer. And when the crowd jeered at his actions, Tommy seemed to feed off it.
The Blades just played Ohio at home and secured an emphatic win.
I don’t know if he’ll show at Lloyd’s tonight, but if he does, I plan to ignore him.
The last time Tommy saw me, he told me to have a nice life, and I should definitely do that.
Push past his existence and get on with my soccer career.
Life without the Blades bad boy in it will be way less complicated and stressful. He reminds me of my bullies from high school—constantly searching for the next opportunity to goad and back me into a corner. He brings the worst out of me, makes me say things I don’t mean.
But above all else, he doesn’t make me proud of my actions. Just being in his presence pushes me to the very brink of my patience as I permanently bite my tongue. I’m not a mean or scornful person. I’m a kind and caring friend to my girls, a loving sister to my brother.
I’m not the kind of girl who gets involved with brutes like Tommy Schneider.
“You’re searching for him, aren’t you?” Darcy clinks her cocktail glass against mine.
I didn’t plan to have alcohol tonight, especially since I have a game the day after tomorrow, but sometimes, it’s needed.
I smile at my friend while she examines my expression. “I’m more concerned about the Scorpions rookie, Curtis Freeman; he isn’t on their roster tonight.” I point at the TV above the bar, which is showing the Scorpions game live.
Darcy shrugs like she isn’t surprised. She’s Coach Morgan’s stepdaughter, and her family has a history with the Schneider last name.
“I give it a few weeks, and he’ll be on the trade list. The difficulty will be shipping him off.
I can’t imagine any team wanting to take him on. He’s the ultimate disruptor.”
I open my mouth to agree when she continues.
“Trouble is …” She twists her lips to the side. “If he dropped the bravado, he’d actually be a pretty decent player.”
“Oh, it’s more than just bravado,” I scoff as Archer arrives and pulls her into his side in an act of pure possession.
I try not to melt and wish I had the same.
“When I left to head here, Tommy was being summoned to Coach’s office. Postgame meetings like that usually mean only one thing.” Archer slides the edge of his hand across his throat. “He played like shit tonight, and I’m pretty sure he’s finished.”
My stomach flips. “You think he’ll be forced into the farm team?”
Archer just shrugs, not seeming bothered either way. “I mean, if he is, then it’ll probably be for the best. Not a single guy on the team likes him.”
A hint of sadness on Tommy’s behalf creeps into my conscience, and I quickly push it away, remembering the way he spoke to me outside Rise Up.
He deserves everything coming to him, I remind myself, downing the rest of my cosmo.
Darcy takes my empty glass and sets it on the bar behind her.
I decide to switch subjects, a gnawing discomfort settling into my bones each time I think of Tommy.
“Does your mom have Emily tonight?” I ask her, plastering on a faux bright smile.
She sees straight through it, but doesn’t call me out. “Yeah …” She chuckles. “For saying she didn’t want to be called a grandma, she sure has taken to the role like a duck to water.”
Archer loops his arms around his wife’s waist, setting a kiss into her hair. “I think we should have more babies. We can sneak off, and I’ll put one inside you right now, if you’d like?”
Another pang of discomfort hits me straight in the chest, knocking the wind right out of me.
Darcy swivels in his arms, swatting him on the shoulder. “Archer, I swear to God, if you’ve tampered with my birth control, I’ll never forgive you.”
He just smirks at her; it’s cocky, but it doesn’t carry the same edge as Tommy’s, and I find myself scanning the bar for him once again.
Archer’s strong hand wraps around my upper arm. “Are you okay, Jen? You seem … off?”
It’s times like this when alcohol can come in very handy, although it’s not a luxury pro athletes can afford to indulge in. I’m barely clinging on to my nutritional plan, let alone introducing a hangover into the mix. Another cosmo would not be a good move.
I motion to the restroom on the far side of the bar. “I need to use the bathroom and maybe get some air. I’ll be back in a bit.”
Leaning forward, I swipe my purse from the back of the barstool in front of me and catch Darcy’s attention. “I’m fine,” I reassure her. “I just need a minute.”
I push through the door into the women’s restroom, and the relative silence provides a welcome relief as the door clicks behind me, blocking the thumping music ringing through the main bar area.
I set my purse down, flattening my palms against the countertop and inviting the cold marble to cool my clammy skin.
At first, I figure I’m alone in here, but at the sound of a soft whimper echoing from one of the stalls, I realize I’m not, and it’s possible someone else is having an even worse night than I am.
Another soft whimper, and I turn to face the stalls.
“Is everything okay?” My voice is clear as it echoes in the quiet restroom, although it doesn’t receive a response.
A shadow shifts in the middle stall, followed by another whimper, only this time, it’s muffled, and it sounds more amused than upset.
I shake my head to no one and turn back around to my purse, pulling out my lip gloss and applying a fresh coat. I’m done with playing games. If whoever’s in there needed my help, they would’ve made it clear.
A few seconds later, when I’m snapping my purse shut, the dead bolt slides across the door, but again, no one materializes.
Way too curious to ignore it, I pick up my purse and walk the few steps toward the stall door, tentatively pushing it open with one hand.
“Hellion. Fancy seeing you here.”
Now the whimpers and muffled noises all make sense as I lock eyes with Tommy, his head tipped over his shoulder to take in my reaction.
With his back to me, he thrusts one hand into some random blonde girl’s hair, his postgame pants pooling around his ankles, and he pulls her head closer to his crotch.
I want to puke right here on the gross tiled floor. Instead, I force myself to look at him.
This is deliberate and all for effect. This is to get back at me for sleeping with that guy and telling him about it. This is a move designed to reject me in the way I rejected him.
It has to be.
I can’t be sure how Tommy knew I’d catch him. Maybe he just banked on me using the bathroom at some point during the night and hoped I’d be alone when I did. Not that the how or why matters because he’s already accomplished what he set out to achieve.
I hate him even more than I did thirty seconds ago.
When his jaw hangs open, I know she just brought him to the point of no return, and I slam the stall door shut, stalking out of the bathroom with tears in my eyes that I’m certain he noticed.
I’m halfway to the bar exit when I swear I hear him calling my name.
Or maybe that’s just my imagination. I don’t know, and I don’t care. Tommy can call after me all he wants, but he’ll never get an answer. He’ll never get to see the whites of my eyes ever again.
When the freezing air hits my bare skin, I realize I left my jacket in the bar. I keep walking, not caring and with no intention of heading back to retrieve it.
“Jenna!” a gruff voice I know to be Tommy’s calls after me again, and I pick up my pace, convinced I’m capable of outrunning him in my sneakers.
Another few steps, and a thick forearm wraps around my waist, spinning me around to look at him.
His eyes are remorseful, the complete opposite of the Tommy who beat up Curtis Freeman. Still, I won’t be fooled. I know what lurks behind those pretty irises.
“Get off me!” I yell, but he pulls us both into a darkened side street.
I momentarily break free before he recaptures my arm and pins me against a filthy brick wall.
Every cell in my body thrums at his proximity, but not in the good way, like before in the Boston hotel. This time, I genuinely want him to leave me alone.
More tears threaten to spill free, and I will them away as Tommy towers over me, brushing a few strands of hair away from my face.
He doesn’t get to be gentle with me. He doesn’t get to show that he cares.
With two hands against his chest, I push him out and into the center of the street. He could have probably fought back or held on tighter if he wanted, but something tells me he got the message loud and clear.
It feels like my eyeballs are busting from their sockets as I raise a single finger in front of me. “Never. EVER. Come near me again. Don’t ever look in my direction.” I barely recognize my own voice or the words that cut at him.
He opens his mouth but quickly clamps it shut, and I start to tremble in the cold night air, a mixture of the chilling fall breeze and adrenaline taking hold deep within my bones.
“You make me sick,” I spit at him. “You are fucking sick.”
A tear runs down my cheek, and I swipe it away, more infuriated with myself and the display of unwanted emotion.
He doesn’t get to see my upset.
“She never touched me in that way, Jenna.” His tone is soft but unsure as he takes a cautious step toward me.
I raise my finger again in warning, and he stops dead.
While Tommy’s body completely blocked my view of what was happening, I don’t need to be a genius to figure it out. “I know what I saw,” I say, “and I’m so disgusted with myself for getting into these games with you in the first place. You bring the worst out in me, Tommy.”
He shakes his head, and I nod mine.
“Yes, you do. You’re toxic. We are toxic whenever we’re near each other. You might be good with using people to score points, but I’m not.”
Something like genuine regret flashes in his eyes, but it’s so brief that I question if I saw it in the first place.
Probably not.
With nothing else to say, I turn my back on him and start to walk away.
“I want to talk to you! I never said you could walk away from me, Hellion.”
I spin back around and face him for the final time, tears pooling, no matter how hard I fight them back. “You didn’t need to, Tommy. Because I just fucking did.”