Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
DIEGO
The Yoko Ono of Hockey? Even if Diego Ferguson Is Cleared to Return, Will He Want to?
An Engagement Announcement That’s Sure to Put The Huskies on Thin Ice!
Huskies Goaltender, Michael Brody, Reportedly Engaged to Teammate, Diego Ferguson’s Former Longtime Girlfriend.
There’s a satisfying thunk as my phone hits the nearest wall. I wanted everyone to stop talking about my damn injury, but not like this.
“Fuuuuuuck,” I groan, dragging my hands through my hair and reluctantly walking over to pick my phone up and check for damage. The screen has a nice crack right down the middle now, but fuck it, who gives a shit? I can buy a new one, or not—it’s the least of my fucking concerns right now.
Slapshot lets out one of his little gremlin barks and cocks his head at me.
“I couldn’t give less of a fuck about Crystal and Brody,” I tell him.
He snorts like he doesn’t believe me, but what does he know?
He’s a dog. “Seriously, they can fucking have each other. But, what? Am I just supposed to smile about it when I see her at every damn game, plastered on the jumbotron, wearing his jersey? Am I supposed to act like it’s no big deal that all the guys on the team looked the other way and didn’t say shit about it to me when I was laid up waiting for surgery and she was waiting around outside the locker room for him? ”
Slaps snorts again, much more sympathetically this time.
“Exactly,” I grunt. “Whatever, he can have her.”
My cracked phone buzzes in my hand and I glare at it for a second.
I swear on my favorite pair of skates that if it’s a call from a reporter looking to get a statement from me, I’m going to lose my ever-loving shit.
I risk a look and see the name Pinsky on the screen.
I let out a small sigh of relief before a fresh pinch of irritation squeezes inside my chest.
Teammates are supposed to be like brothers, and this is only the third time Pinsky has gone out of his way to call me since my injury. A couple of the other guys have texted a few times, but mostly it feels like they’ve all just gone on with their lives while I’ve been dealing with this shit alone.
Slapshot sneezes and then licks his nose.
Mostly alone.
I reach down to give his ears a grateful scratch and reluctantly hit the button to accept the call.
“Yo,” Pinsky says once I grunt in greeting. “How you holding up, man?”
“Fucking peachy.” I try not to sound too growly giving my standard ‘I don’t really want to talk about this’ answer, but I’m pretty sure I miss the mark by about a mile.
“Got it.” He chuckles. “I figured you’d seen the news.”
“Yeah.” I know I sound short, but what the fuck does he want me to say about it?
I eye the pile of boxes still stacked in the corner next to my dresser and a resolve settles into my chest that actually manages to make me feel a little better.
“You calling to get my RSVP to their engagement shower or what?”
Pinsky laughs again. “Nah, just wanted to check in.”
“Well, you’ve checked. I’m alive and I’m not suicidal or homicidal, I’m keeping up with my PT and focusing on getting back into game shape. Does that check all your boxes, Captain?”
“I’m not calling as team captain, Ferg.”
I snort and rake my free hand through my hair. “Sure. It’s all good.”
I’m not even trying not to sound pissy anymore, but fuck it, I don’t know what he wants from me.
For some reason, my mind goes back to the afternoon at that bar last week, sitting and just shooting the shit with that guy, Callan.
No resentment, no bullshit, just a couple of dudes enjoying a few beers and a baseball game.
I miss when it was that easy with Pinsky and the guys, but I can’t see a way that I’m ever going to forgive them for that shit with Brody.
Maybe it would be better for the GM to go ahead and trade me.
A fresh start on a new team might not be so bad.
I cringe at the thought though. I don’t want to go to another team.
I want my team to feel the way it used to.
“Yeah, alright,” Pinsky says, then I hear another voice in the background, deep and with a French accent that makes me think it’s probably our left forward, Lavoie.
My suspicion is confirmed when he gets on the phone only a second later.
“Ferguson, we’re down the street at the wing place. Come meet us.”
“Uh, thanks, man, but I’m actually just heading out to the gym. Like I told Pinsky, I’m really focused on getting back into game shape.”
“The gym?” Lavoie repeats with a chuckle, like I said something funny. “Are you going to the one I suggested last week?”
I frown trying to figure out what he’s talking about, then I remember the text conversation we had.
Admittedly, I was kind of a shit to him the way I’m being with Pinsky right now, but after I told him to fuck off, he was nice enough to suggest a gym for me to check out.
Wet, I think he said it was called… something like that.
He claimed they had top-notch trainers who would give my ass a proper workout.
I blew the idea off at the time. I already have my physical therapist, plus the team trainer, and it’s not like I don’t know how to get myself in shape.
But now that Lavoie mentions it, maybe it would be kind of nice to work out somewhere other than the silence of my home gym.
Plus, it could be a good excuse to get out of the apartment.
“Yeah,” I say impulsively, taking my phone away from my ear and putting it on speaker so I can pull up the text and find the right name and address.
Lavoie laughs again and I roll my eyes. What the hell is so damn funny?
“Okay, have fun working up a sweat there, chaton.” I don’t have the first clue what he just called me, but the teasing in his tone is unmistakable.
I’m sure it’s friendly, just guys being guys and razzing each other, but I don’t think I’m in that place with any of them right now, and that realization is a hell of a lot lonelier than I expected it to be.
“Yeah,” I mutter again. “Later.”
I end the call and toss my phone onto the top of my dresser while I get dressed for the gym, pack a change of clothes in case I decide to shower there after my workout, and finally gather up the boxes that are all stacked up.
They’re mostly clothes, so they’re light enough that I don’t have any problem with them, aside from the fact that I can’t see shit.
I manage to make it down to the dumpsters without falling down the stairs and reinjuring myself though.
Tossing the boxes in and closing the lid with a reverberating clang is even more cathartic than I thought it would be.
The fact that I’m more upset about the betrayal by my team than Crystal herself says a lot.
Maybe we fell out of love a long time ago and I was just too busy with my career to notice it.
It would have been nice if she’d told me that instead of fucking around behind my back though.
Either way, it’s done and over with now.
There’ll be a girl out there for me when the time is right, but until then, I need to focus on what really matters.
I dust my hands off on my shorts and pull my phone out of my pocket one more time to look up directions to Sweat, which is actually the name of the gym he suggested.
My gym bag swings on my shoulder, the sun beats down on the back of my neck, and I let myself daydream about how good it’s going to feel to have that icy chill against my skin and the blades on my skates cutting through fresh ice again.
Soon.
First, I need to make sure all my muscles are strong enough that I won’t re-injure myself, and then I can get back to being the dominant, badass, mother fucking powerhouse I’m supposed to be.
CALLAN
“Hey, Si, let me see the tally for membership sign-ups this month; I need to make sure I’m still winning.” I lean over the desk and start shoving binders and clipboards aside in search of the one he’s been keeping to track our latest competition.
Silas bats my hand away.
“You’re fucking with my system,” he complains.
“It’s a mess, that’s not much of a system.” I smack his hand right back to even the score.
“You can cut down on training clients then and cover the desk more often if you want it to be all tidy and shit,” he grumbles.
“Or we could try to talk Andre into hiring someone full time for the front desk,” Butch suggests, sidling up beside me and folding his massive arms on the high part of the desk.
“We tried that.” Silas reaches under the desk and pulls out the red clipboard I know holds the tally I’m looking for. “The last two both quit after one of us hooked up with them and didn’t want anything serious.”
I shrug. “Then he should hire a commitment-phobe who will fit right in.”
Silas rumbles a laugh that sounds a lot like agreement.
“Or the rest of you could finally settle down.” Butch nudges my arm, and I snort a laugh.
“Yeah, we’re all glad that you and Percy are happy, but not all of us are cut out for that shit.”
“AJ and Slater are happy too,” Butch says.
“Good for them,” I say off-handedly while reaching for the clipboard Silas is holding. “Now let me see my numbers.”
“You’re still winning,” he assures me, pulling it back with a smirk that makes me think he’s only doing it to annoy me.
“But by how much? If I’m only ahead by one or two sign-ups, I need to put in more work. I don’t just want to win, I need it to be a landslide.”
Silas looks at the clipboard again and frowns dramatically. “Hmm, I don’t know, I’m going to have to crunch some numbers, go through the registration paperwork to make sure they’ve all been tallied.”
“Don’t make me hurt you,” I threaten lightly, and he jumps back out of my reach with another laugh.