Chapter 6
CHAPTER
SIX
APRIL
My palms are so sweaty that they keep slipping over my leather steering wheel cover. I know Chance has questions about what happened with Evan, but he’s not sharing them and that makes me even more embarrassed.
It’s funny how quickly our roles have changed.
When I didn’t know his name, things felt much simpler.
He needed a mechanic, and I was the powerful technician who saved the day.
Now, I’m just the clueless woman who got cheated on by her ex for a whole year and he’s Chance McLanley. The Chance McLanley.
Talk about a power imbalance.
The only hockey game I ever saw was the one Evan forced me to sit and watch for his birthday. It was Chance’s team in the finals.
I had no idea which player was Chance at the time. Everyone was speeding too fast for me to recognize a face. However, I heard the word ‘McLanley’ mentioned often enough that I asked Evan about it.
“Who’s McLanely?”
“He’s the center. Guy knows where the puck is going almost like he put a tracker on it. But when you’re that strong, the other team sets a target on your back and the guy always falls for it. Ends up in the penalty box so often, there’s a joke that he’s got a microwave, a bed, and Netflix in there.”
I can totally see why Chance would get sent to the penalty box. Remembering how he flew right into Evan’s face, jerking me behind him and shielding me in the process, he definitely wouldn’t be able to handle players intentionally baiting him on the ice.
“I’m sorry,” Chance says without prompting.
I glance at him, my eyes wide. “Huh?”
“If I hurt you when I grabbed your hand.” Brows knitted, he stares a hole into my arm and I notice there’s a slight, reddish bruise forming there.
“Oh, you didn’t. This was from…” My voice trails.
“Evan?” He prompts.
He’s pitying me and I guess, in a way, I gave him something to pity me for. Any woman who willingly dated Evan Kinsey for three years probably has a few screws loose.
“Did Evan… used to hurt you?” Chance asks hesitantly.
I shake my head so hard my ponytail whips my cheek. “No, no. It was nothing like that. Even if he tried, I know how to use a wrench.”
Chance blows out a breath. “That’s good.”
I bark out a nervous little laugh that sounds a couple degrees better than my goat scream. Silence creeps in between us because I don’t know what to say.
“I, uh, actually thought you were apologizing for something else,” I mumble.
“I already apologized for not recognizing you as a mechanic.” He scratches his chin. “Did I do something else to offend you?”
“You didn’t offend me, per se.”
“Then?”
“I thought you were apologizing for stepping in.”
“Oh.” His shoulders relax. “Why would I apologize when I’m not sorry?”
His words are so frank and matter-of-fact that I slam too hard on the brakes when approaching a crosswalk and we both jolt forward. Instinctively, Chance’s arm comes up to protect me.
I clear my throat. “Well then, I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?”
“This is a small town. Everyone is going to be talking about what happened. It’s probably all over the nursing home group chat now.”
“The fact that some jerk grabbed you or the fact that I stopped him?”
“Both.”
“You shouldn’t be sorry.” He raises his chin. “None of this is your fault. If it’s anybody’s fault, it’s mine.”
“So you admit it’s your fault?”
He stares straight ahead, choosing his words carefully. “If you expect me to apologize for intervening…” He shakes his head. “I won’t. I only apologize for things I’m actually sorry for.”
“Noted.” I crank up the air conditioner because, for some reason, my face is getting hot.
He taps his fingers on his knee. “So… you and Evan…”
I groan. “You were doing so well.”
“I have to ask.”
“‘Have to’ is relative.”
“What’s the deal with him?”
“We dated. He cheated. We broke up. Case closed.”
Chance scrunches his nose. “He cheated, and he’s still demanding you answer his calls?”
I shrug.
He looks genuinely outraged. “You shouldn’t have stopped me from punching him.”
“Please don’t pick a fight with Evan. He meant it when he said he’d have you thrown in jail. The Kinseys pretty much own this town. His cousin, Gunner, is the captain of our hockey team and Gunner’s dad is the sheriff.”
“Which means Evan is the nephew of the sheriff?” He scrunches his nose. “So Lucky Falls is a kingdom then, not a democracy.”
“Sounds about right,” I concede. “You’ll get the hang of it if you stick around long enough.”
“I don’t plan on doing that.”
He takes out his phone and checks the screen. I briefly wonder if he’s hoping for a call from his girlfriend. Or maybe his many girlfriends. With a face like that, he doesn’t scream ‘ my dream is a wife, a white picket fence, and two and a half kids’ .
I know the deal with athletes. Our hockey team is popular around here and I’ve seen how girls throw themselves at Gunner and the rest of the players. Athletes, at every level, are never in want of company, attention and adoration. Since Chance has been at the very top, he’s probably reaped the benefits of that.
Why do you care who he dates, April?
I shake my head to clear the thoughts. Seeing Evan threw me for a loop and now not even my thoughts are making sense.
Speeding a little faster to the hotel, I drive my truck right up to the front doors and let Chance out.
I’m glad our time together is over. In this state, my emotional defenses are down. I’ll start talking about the cheating incident or the incident that hurt me even worse afterwards. And that’ll be beyond embarrassing.
“Thanks for the ride,” Chance says. “And for the help with my car.”
“Thanks for the burger. And… with Evan…” I say stiffly.
“You’re welcome.” He unleashes a soft smile that would probably have me falling flat in my chair if I wasn’t already seated.
I bet women always go weak at the knees in front of Chance. The man should walk around with a warning.
May cause kneecaps to suddenly burst into Jello.
First impressions aside, Chance has a way of disarming me and I don’t like it.
When he hops out of the car, a flyer from the overstuffed glove compartment sails out and lands at his feet.
“What’s this?” He arches a brow. “The Pink Garage? Is that your place?”
I hesitate before nodding.
“Competing with the Kinseys?” He tips the paper to his head in a salute. “You’ve got my vote.”
“I’ll need more than a vote to keep the lights on, but that’s appreciated.” I stare straight ahead.
He chuckles and shuts the door. “Hey, maybe next week, I can take you out for a proper dinner as a thank you and we can discuss how to take down the Kinseys together.”
Oh-ho, no.
No way.
Time to nip this sucker in the bud.
“No need for a thank you.”
“At the very least, I can leave you tickets to our first game. Max said they’re selling fast.”
“I’m not much of a sports fan.” I pause and then tack on stiffly. “I doubt we’ll be seeing much of each other.”
“Oh.” He blinks, taken aback by the distance in my tone. He recovers quickly, his smile only a tad unsure. “But it’s a small town, right? I’m sure we’ll run into each other now and then.”
“Probably not. You’ll be busy competing and I’ll be busy working.”
The smile finally disappears and a part of me wishes I could say something to reverse the movement. Sure, let’s be friends. Let’s exchange numbers and get coffee and I can geek about cars while you geek about hockey.
Pffft. After Evan, I don’t want any male companionship, friendly or otherwise. Someone like Chance can probably be just-friends with someone like me, but I know for a fact that I can’t handle too much of him. He’s one hundred percent handsome, one hundred percent charming and I am one hundred percent delusional.
It wouldn’t take long for me to catch feelings. And then, not only would I be opening myself up to getting hurt again, but it’d be with an athlete who has—not only the people in town to cheat on me with—but a bunch of away games, fancy photoshoots with models, and international business meetings that provide plenty of enticing, non-monogamous entertainment.
Am I overthinking?
Maybe.
Probably.
I said I was delusional.
But it’s this very delusion that made me believe I’d be marrying Evan this year instead of finding his tongue searching for treasure in the caverns of my hairdresser’s throat.
The reminder of my ex-boyfriend’s duplicity gives me strength.
“Can you close my door please,” I snap, noticing the way he’s lingering.
“Oh, right.” Chance sheepishly shoves the door closed.
Without a word, I slam on the gas pedal and speed away
As I’m telling myself that I made the right choice, my phone rings. Since I rigged up my old pickup with a new, touchscreen dashboard, I can see that it’s May calling without touching my cell.
I tap the button on the dashboard and say, “Hey, May. I bought burgers for?—”
“April, how do you know Chance Mclanely?” My sister shrieks.
I blink a few times. “I don’t.”
One misunderstanding, a conversation, a car ride, and a little knight-in-shining-armor-ing doesn’t count as really knowing a guy.
“Really? Because you two are all over social media.”
I jerk the truck to the side of the road, yank my phone from the cradle and set it to my ear. “May, say that again?”
“Our page is blowing up ! This is crazy!” Her footsteps thud in the background. I can imagine my sister running back and forth in our worn living room, leaping and whooping loudly.
“May, you’re not making sense. Why would people care about our page just because our pictures got shared in the local group chat?”
“Local group—did you not hear me? I said you’re all over social media.”
“Sure. The town’s social media page.” Lucky Falls has its own social media branding manager, so it’s no surprise that they posted sightings of a famous hockey player.
“No, April. You don’t understand. You. Are. Blowing up. On. The. Internet.”
“Me?”
“Everyone wants to know who Chance Mclanley is dating.”
I choke. “D-did you just say dating? ”
“Oh, this is great! I need to draft up a new social media calendar. The shop has to bank on the Chance momentum before it totally dies out. They say it’s not your fifteen minutes of fame, it’s what you do with them that counts.”
I am one hundred percent sure no one says that.
“I’ll see you at home,” May squeals. “Oh, and thanks for the burgers.”
As soon as May hangs up, I type in Chance’s name in the internet search bar.
There are millions of hits.
The top stories are:
Up-and-Coming Hockey Player Voted Sexiest Athlete Alive
Chance Mclanley Out of Chances
The Downfall of Chance Mclanley: How One Man Lost Everything
And right there underneath all the big headlines is an article that popped up literally minutes ago.
It’s a zoomed in picture of me, possibly at the worst angle that a camera could capture a face. My face looks splotchy, my hair looks like a giant ball of frizz and worst of all, Chance looks absolutely dashing in comparison.
The header simply reads ‘ Chance McLanely, New Town and New Girlfriend. Who Is Mystery Girl?’
“New… girlfriend?”
My cellphone feels like it weighs a ton and my hand drops limply to the seat.
The internet thinks I’m dating Chance McLanely.
And they couldn’t be more wrong.