Chapter 9 #3
She plants her foot right on top of my chest, and in a demon voice, she says, “Get up and I will bring that pan over here and use your nut sac as a trivet. Got it?”
I hold my hands up in surrender. “Fine.” I am just as terrified by Blakely’s demon voice as I am of Penny’s. Who taught who? Because surely, they weren’t raised with that voice, right?
She takes off, and from where I lie on her bedroom floor, I hear her open the sliding glass doors to the balcony as well as a few other windows.
“Shit, this is torched,” she says from the kitchen, causing me to shut my eyes in disappointment.
Yup, you idiot, good job . Not only did you burn dinner but you pissed her off.
And you hurt your foot, right when we’re on a goddamn winning roll.
Pretty sure this is not what Penny and the boys envisioned for me tonight.
But fuck, I didn’t want her sleeping on a stupid air mattress. Is that too much to ask?
After a few seconds, she comes back into her bedroom, bringing the stench of burnt onions with her. Hands on her hips, she says, “I’m well aware the odor surrounding me is unpleasant so if you tell me right now you’re faking this injury, I will lose it on you.”
I shake my head. “I’m not faking it.”
“Okay, so you’re telling me you hurt your ankle?”
“Yes.”
She stares at the wall and nods before throwing her arms up in the air. “Great, I just hurt the ankle of our number-one player, ruining the chances of the Agitators winning the Stanley Cup. Great.” She leans against the wall and slides down it until she’s sitting.
Her hands cover her eyes and I’m unsure if she’s going to cry or if she’s going to scream, but to avoid both, I say, “You think I’m the number-one player on the team?”
“Holmes, I’ve been with you guys for a year.
A fan for years before that. Of course I know you are.
” She holds her hand up to me. “And I just jumped on your back without thinking about the consequences!” My ankle throbs, but I’m also riding a small high here.
Blakely thinks I’m the best on the Agitators.
“Blakely. Look at me.”
“I can’t,” she says through her hands, which has muffled her voice. I chuckle. I can’t help it. She’s adorable.
I sit up and pull her hands off her face.
“There she is.” I lift her chin and find watery eyes staring back at me. “Blakely, I’ve rolled this ankle a million times. I’ve played with worse. I just need to see my trainer.”
“Your trainer. Of course. I need to get you to your trainer. I’ll drive you there. Come on, Holmes. Hop up, and I’ll take you. Oh, but you can’t hop up. Well, you might be able to hop, but not all the way to the arena—”
“Blakely?” She finally takes a breath and squints at me.
“Yes, Halsey?”
“There are crutches in the front hallway closet. You grab those, and I’m going to text my trainer to meet me at the arena.”
“Right, on it.” She bolts out of the room, and I pull my phone out of my pocket and text Grace, our trainer.
Make sloppy joes, she said. They’re easy, she said. But no, it’s easier for me to make a fool of myself than cook a simple dinner.
This was not what was supposed to happen . . . you dumbass.
Blakely drives like she has precious cargo in the car. She refuses to go above the speed limit, and she asks if I’m okay every few seconds.
“Yes . . . I’m fine. Seriously, you don’t have to keep asking,” I say as my phone buzzes with a text.
Penny: How’s it going? I’m dying to know. Do we hear wedding bells?
I roll my eyes. If only she fucking knew.
Posey: How were the sloppy joes? I tried the recipe because I was curious. Really enjoyed the added onions.
Silas: Ha! I made them too. Fucking delicious.
OC: Is it weird that I cooked them as well, but only because I want to get on Penny’s good side?
Penny: Very smart, new guy. Very smart.
Knowing we have at least ten more minutes until we reach the arena by the way Blakely is driving, I text them back.
Halsey: Burned the fuck out of the sloppy joes because I was wrestling a mattress. I rolled my ankle, so we’re currently on the way to the arena to meet with Grace. I ended up popping the air mattress with scissors.
Silas: **BLINKS**
Posey: Uh . . . I don’t think that’s what we planned.
OC: Wait, so you’re hurt?
Pacey: Fuck, dude!
Halsey: Yeah, I’m hurt, and dinner was roasted.
Penny: This.
Penny: Is.
Penny: Perfect!!!
Silas: I say this with all the gentility that I can muster, but how is our center rolling his ankle perfect?
OC: Clearly, Penny knows all so we should just listen to her. Yay, you rolled your ankle!
Posey: Dude, have some nuts.
Pacey: I’m with Levi.
OC: I’m so confused!
Penny: Okay, it sucks for the team, but this is perfect for Halsey. He will be out for, what? A week or two? Blakely will be so distraught that she’ll want to take care of him every chance she gets, leading to them falling in love! Can’t you see, it’s perfect!
Posey: She’s right.
Silas: Huh, that does make sense.
OC: See, all hail Queen Penny.
Penny: Okay, pull it back, new guy.
OC: Sorry.
Halsey: She has a job. There is no way she will take care of me, and I don’t need to be taken care of.
Posey: Don’t be a stubborn motherfucker. Take this chance and go with it.
Pacey: Take it, dude.
“Are you still doing okay?”
I glance over at her, and her worried lip. “Yes, Blakely. Seriously, I’m good.”
“Okay.” Her eyes fixate on the road in front of her, but I can see the tension in her shoulders and the sorrow in her expression.
“I shouldn’t have tried to move the bed or pop it for that matter. Call me old-fashioned, but I just wanted to make sure you were comfortable. You’re my guest.”
“I know, and I’m sorry. I was being stubborn and trying not to get in the way and bother you, but I ended up making it worse.
We burned dinner and popped an air mattress and made a mess of our rooms. And you won’t be able to play hockey.
Do you think it will be for the rest of the season? I really am sorry.”
“It won’t be the rest of the season, and it will be fine. Okay? I should have just left everything alone.”
“No, I should have.”
I sigh. “Listen, Blakely. We can go around in circles about this, or we can just apologize to each other and not bring it up anymore.”
She stops at a red light and turns toward me, tears in her eyes. “I just feel really bad.”
Shit.
I don’t want to see her cry.
Ever.
Those tears about to pour over feel like tiny sharp knives digging into my chest.
I want to pull her into my chest, hug her, brush my hand over her hair, tell her everything is going to be okay, but I don’t own that privilege, so instead, I say, “I know, Blakely. But I promise you, it will be fine. Okay?”
She nods as one single tear streams down her cheek. She wipes it away and says, “I’m sorry, Halsey.”
“I’m sorry, too.” I offer a comforting side smile, unsure of what else to do.
She wipes at her eye, and as the light turns green, she starts driving again.
Fuck . . .
If only.
If only I could tell her that I don’t care about what happened, just that I care about her comfort, spending time with her, and making sure she’s okay. I hate that she’s upset. I hate that she’s holding this guilt. That’s the last fucking thing I want.
I want to see that shining smile of hers, those brilliant eyes full of joy. I don’t want to be the source of her pain and discomfort.
Feeling sick about it, I text the group.
Halsey: She feels so guilty. She’s crying. I can’t fucking take this. I don’t want her upset and holding on to this guilt. What the fuck do I do? Because anything I say doesn’t seem to penetrate her mind.
I glance out the window and see the arena up ahead just as my phone buzzes.
Penny: She will hold on to this guilt until she feels better. Let her feel her pain. Let her do what she can to make things right in her head. Accept her help.
Pacey: I don’t know Blakely well, but I know if this was Winnie, she’d want to do everything she can so that, in her mind, she’s rectifying the situation that she helped create. I agree with Penny. Let her work through this herself.
Silas: Same with Ollie.
Posey: And when she works through it, that’s when you take advantage of the time with her.
Penny: Correct, boys. I’m proud of you.
OC: I’m still thinking about how you used the word penetrate. I keep thinking about your penis. I think there is something wrong with me.
Halsey: You’ve lost a lot of my respect.
OC: I accept this.