Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
HALSEY
“Fuck, man. I can’t believe you’re out for at least two weeks,” Silas says as he sits next to me in the locker room.
I just got done with some painful treatment, thanks to Grace, and I figured I’d visit with the guys before letting Blakely know that I’m ready to go back home. I want to give her some time in her office before I pull her out.
“I know, but Grace thinks if I stick to my treatment plan and don’t miss one thing, I’ll be ready to come back.”
“I don’t want you to reinjure it.”
“I won’t,” I say. “You know Grace, she tapes us up with what feels like steel rods.”
“True,” he says as he leans back on the bench. “Hell, tonight is going to be rough without you though. Are you staying to watch?”
“No, going to watch from my apartment. I actually asked Blakely to watch with me.”
He slowly turns his head and faces me. Whispering, he asks, “Did you tell Posey this?”
“No, why?”
“He’s going to be so fucking obnoxious that I don’t think I can bear him knowing.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“He’s seemed really chill in the Frozen Fellas group, but he’s been bragging up a storm in a separate text about how he’s the best matchmaker to ever walk the goddamn planet.
Of course, Pacey let him have it last night and said he shouldn’t be celebrating while our center is laid up with a bad ankle.
We haven’t heard from him since but if he knows you have a date planned—”
“It’s not a date.”
“Oh, he’ll call it that. Like Jesus, he’s been insufferable. It’s almost as if he’s trying to avoid something in his life so he’s incessantly involving himself in ours.”
“That’s probably the case,” I say just as OC walks into the locker room.
“Oh shit, man, how are you doing?” he asks, coming up to me and taking a seat.
“Good. Slightly in pain, but just got done with treatment.”
“I can’t believe you rolled your ankle fighting over an air mattress.”
“Yeah.” I pull on my hair. “I need to come up with a better story, because it doesn’t sound great.”
“To me it does,” Silas says with a smirk.
“How was everything last night?” OC asks.
“Good.” I glance around the room. “Don’t say this to Posey, because his head might explode, but I shared my bed with Blakely last night.
Nothing happened but this morning, she said it was the best night’s sleep she’s had in a while.
She said it was probably because she felt comfortable sleeping next to me. ”
“Dude.” Silas slaps my chest. “That’s huge.”
“She really said that to you?” OC asks.
“Yeah.” I can’t hide my smile. “It was the first sign I’ve gotten from her where I thought . . . maybe there could be something there.”
“There’s definitely something there and, now that you get to spend all of this time with her, Posey was right, this is the perfect chance to make your move,” Silas says.
“Yeah, I think it is, but I’m going to take it slow. Feel her out and then, maybe when the time is right, I’ll ask her out.”
OC shakes his head. “I swear, if this all works out and you end up marrying this girl, Posey will never, and I mean never let us live it down.” Fuck, he’s right.
But if I were to end up with Blakely, nothing would overpower the utter happiness I’d feel.
I’d have my girl... something I still can’t even imagine .
“I think that’s a risk I’m willing to take,” I say.
“This smells amazing,” Blakely says as she grabs a piece of cheese pizza and puts it on her plate. “I don’t think I’ve ever ordered pizza from here before.”
“It’s my favorite,” I answer before taking a bite of pepperoni. We ordered half cheese, half pepperoni and I don’t know why, but I think it’s fucking cute that she wanted just regular cheese.
The game is on in front of us, the announcers in the background talking about my absence from the game and how it might affect the team, but I tune them out.
“Do you always get cheese?” I ask her.
Her eyes are fixated on the TV, most likely listening in.
“Hey.” I nudge her foot with mine, drawing her attention. “Ignore them. They’re paid to talk, but they’re not necessarily paid to state the facts. The boys reassured me that they will be fine without me.”
“You’re right. Sorry.” She turns toward me. “Yes, I always get cheese, I love it. Perry hated that I wanted cheese and so he’d get pepperoni and make me pick them off and put them on his.”
My brows draw together. “How is that fair to you?”
She shrugs. “I’m pretty chill. But this is true cheese and it’s so good.”
As long as this woman is in my life, I will make damn well sure that she always has just plain cheese pizza as an option. What a fucking douche.
When she’s finished chewing, she swallows and says, “So tell me, what would be going through your mind right now if you were on the ice warming up?”
I glance over at the TV where the guys are skating around, doing some stretches. “Probably wondering if anyone is recording me while I stretch my inner thighs.”
She laughs. “Oh, you mean the move where it looks like you’re humping the ice? Uh yeah, people are recording you. Haven’t you seen our social media?”
“I try to avoid it. You learn pretty quickly that social media is a blessing and a curse. There is so much love to drown yourself in, but there’s also the negative.
It might be few and far between, but the negative comments and posts, they’re like freshly soiled seeds in your brain, planting themselves without even giving you a choice.
And they grow and root themselves deep inside.
That one negative comment becomes all you can think about—despite the love, despite the praise, despite the accomplishments. ”
“I guess I never thought about it that way since we’re always posting positive things. Although, there are some comments on our posts that people will be sure to say how much the team sucks.”
“Those comments are just rowdy fans from other teams,” I say. “It’s the other ones like . . . the wrong twin died.” Something I’ve never admitted to a living soul.
“Stop.” She sits taller. “Please don’t tell me that’s true.”
“Unfortunately, it is,” I say, unsure why I went from how good this pizza is to the dark thoughts that capture my mind daily.
Because there are many times that I believe that narrative.
Holden was the better player. The better man.
The more outgoing, likable man. And when you read that someone else thinks that way, it’s hard to ignore.
“That is such a shitty and awful thing to say.” Facts.
“Confidence runs rampant when someone can hide behind a keyboard. It’s why I ignore social media. I get my energy from the present fans, the ones I meet outside of the arena or at special events, because those are the ones that matter.”
She shakes her head. “You’re right, but how freaking disgusting. I’m so sorry people think it’s okay to treat others with such disregard.”
I just shrug. “Only makes us tougher.”
“But you shouldn’t have to put on a layer of armor to face the world.”
“Some might say it’s the price we pay for being in the spotlight.”
“No.” She sets her pizza down. “You might be in the spotlight, but you’re a human first. Being treated like that is unacceptable.”
“Thanks.” I love how much she’s defending me. It’s very true, the spotlight can be a distant, dark place where loneliness quickly creeps into your soul. But no need to get into that. To lighten the mood, I say, “Maybe you should be my bodyguard and snap at the people who wrong me.”
“Oh, I would. I can be a keyboard warrior. I can put people in their place no problem. Just direct me where to go.”
“Why does it feel like if I unleashed you and Penny on the anti-fans that you would end up making them cry in minutes?”
“Because you’re aware of our superpowers. No one messes with us or the people in our group.”
“Am I in your group?” I ask.
“I mean . . . you and Sherman are for sure in the group. Maybe Sherman a little more than you.”
“I want to say I’m insulted, but I also understand the connection.”
“Is it weird that I was looking up plant clothes today? There was nothing, but I did find some bowties made for stuffies that could work for him. It would be adorable. A purple one for game days. He would be dressing up just like his daddy.”
“What did I say about that? He doesn’t call me Daddy.”
“As far as you’re aware.” She takes a large bite of her pizza. The melted cheese extends out as she pulls the pizza away. I reach out and help her, snapping the cheese string in half. She smirks up at me and my heart seizes in my chest. It’s the most beautiful smile . . . ever.
Her eyes light up.
Her lips are full of grease and cheese.
And there’s a tiny dimple cutting into her right cheek.
I like this girl so fucking much. The more time I spend with her, the more I realize it.
She isn’t just beautiful—on the outside—but on the inside, she has this uplifting spirit. Her warm personality makes you feel like you can be yourself without any passing judgment. It’s easy to relax with her.
It’s why I find myself letting my guard down and talking about Holden. I haven’t wanted to search for a book to escape into. The first time in years.
“Do I have cheese on my face?” she asks.
“Huh?” I’m shuffled out of my thoughts.
“You’re looking at me as if I have cheese on my face.”
Shit, you’re staring again, you moron.
“Oh sorry, no, I was just impressed with that bite.”
“Oh yeah?” She wiggles her brows. “Well there’s more where that came from.” She opens her mouth wide and takes a giant bite of her pizza. Impressive. She can unhinge her jaw and shove the pizza in there.
“Impressive, but check this out,” I say before attempting to shove the entire pizza into my mouth. ..but failing miserably when the pizza hits the back of my throat and my gag reflex kicks in, causing me to pull the whole thing out.