18. Othelia
Chapter eighteen
Othelia
I’m still continuing to live in a circle of grief, wearing the ugliest sweats I own and living off nothing but ice-cream and fries. Layla is my only reason to drag myself out of bed. I feel like I’m on autopilot: feed, change, play, sleep, going through the motions without actually experiencing any of it. The second Rian gets home, I hand her off to shut myself away, letting the darkness fester, getting worse the more time goes on.
Rian has been throwing himself into training, and I throw myself into caring for Layla, ensuring all her needs are met, while ignoring my own.
Three days ago, while eating dinner with Rian, I received a missed call from Clay. Though I’ve been ignoring most of his messages, something about this one pulled at me to listen to his message.
He still begged for my forgiveness and claimed he still loved me, which went the same as his other messages, but this time it ended with him sobbing, saying he couldn’t be alone anymore. He was so tired of the loneliness and that statement felt like a bullet through my heart.
His pleas have sent me into a spiral I can’t pull myself out of. I don’t trust him anymore; he shattered my heart into so many pieces, but one small useless fragment still remembers the good times we shared. The many nights we spent curled on the couch, or wrapped in each other’s arms as we slept, back when the love was fresh and untainted. Now all I feel is loneliness too.
Rian rips back the curtains and exposes my pity party for one. Tissues and empty ice-cream tubs litter my side table, chocolate stains dotting the comforter where some had dripped while I sobbed into my spoon last night.
I hiss at the unexpected daylight and throw the covers back over my head, cocooning myself in darkness. The relief is short-lived when they, too, are yanked out of my grasp.
“What the fuck, Rian? I’m trying to sleep!” Huffing, I storm out of the bed towards the en-suite, slamming the door in his face as he tries to follow. I can hear him leaning against the doorway as he tries to talk with me, even though I know I’m being unreasonable.
“I’ve given you days, Til, days to hide away in here and pretend the world doesn’t exist, that Clay isn’t a fuck head, Mom isn’t a bitch and that Sloane isn’t gone. But that ends today.” His voice fractures on the last one, but he reigns it back in as I stare at the mirror, pulling faces as I answer him.
“Oh, thank you, Rian, for being so thoughtful in allowing me this time to wallow, even though I’m cramping your space. It’s so generous of you.” I roll my eyes and swing open the door. Rian almost falls into me as I storm past him, collapsing back into bed and pulling the covers up and over my head again.
“Oh, okay, we’re at this stage. Well, I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but the world is still standing and you need to put on your big girl pants and face it. If you want to end this, I have twenty-two guys who would be more than willing to fly to LA and fuck his shit up. But if you’d rather act like an adult and make him actually regret everything he’s lost, I’m sorry, but you’re gonna have to get out of this bed and, for God’s sake, fucking shower.”
I sit up to look at him, offended, before tilting my head and sniffing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s not that…” Okay, it’s pretty bad.
“See!” His smug grin makes me not think twice about throwing a pillow at his head. “Plus, you are going to stink out the plane today if you don’t, and that’s saying something with hockey players—we are inherently stinky.” He leans against the doorframe, chuckling to himself.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Yeah, I figured you forgot we were leaving to fly to Dallas in two hours.”
I fly out of bed, racing to the closet before staring at the mostly empty hangers. I can’t fly to a different city in the same sweats I’ve been living in for the last month and a half.
Rian disappears into the hallway, reappearing a few seconds later, pushing two massive black suitcases. “I called Charlie and got her to order you a bunch of clothes online and had them delivered to the house. I figured this would be one less thing you needed to think about today, and I figured you wouldn’t want to wear those sweats. Especially since they look like they are about to spout legs and walk themselves to the laundry.” His cheeky grin returns to his face.
I stare at him, not hiding the tears that fill my eyes.
“Ah fuck, Tilly, don’t cry. It’s for my benefit as well. I can’t see you wearing that sweatshirt for another day.” Tears flow and I can’t do anything to stop them. He walks over to me, engulfing me in a hug. “Ugh, now I’m gonna need to shower again. Your stink is rubbing off on me.”
I smack his chest as he ruffles my hair. “Right, you go shower. I’m going to sort the rest of Layla’s stuff and then we can head to the airport to meet the team.” I nod, sniffling and wiping my nose with my sleeve. He walks back towards the door, stopping to look back at me when I call his name.
“Thanks for being here for me.”
“Always.”
An hour later, I’m dressed in the softest black maxi dress Charlie picked out. It hugs my curves, making my boobs look amazing. I smile, imagining Sloane’s wolf whistling as I walk out of the en-suite, imagining the way she would make me spin to take in the outfit from all angles before complimenting me on my great ass.
Adding my denim jacket and some white tennis shoes, I keep it casual. For the first time in weeks, I feel more like myself again and I’m ready to spend the next ten days in a hotel with the team.
Nervous is an understatement, even though I’ve met most of the guys. Hanging with them after a game is one thing; traveling with them during the season is on a whole other level.
Somehow, during the time since I agreed to travel with Rian and this very moment, I’ve forgotten it would also mean I will now be traveling with a certain defenseman.
I groan as I drag my ass out of my room. I just need to put that shit aside. None of it matters. I am here for Rian and Layla only, and they need me on that plane, no matter how much I feel like dying at the thought of facing him again. Though it doesn’t stop me from pausing in the hallway to add some mascara and a swipe of lip gloss to my outfit.
Rian was right. Pulling on my big girl panties, it’s time to make him regret his missed opportunity. Only, Rian and I are on two different wavelengths about who needs the reminder.
If Sloane was here, she would tell me to strut onto that plane and pretend like he doesn’t exist. And for her, that is what I’m going to do.
The team has graciously allowed Layla and me to fly with them on the team jet. A miracle I’m grateful for, as the thought of traveling alone with Layla makes me want to bust out in hives.
We pull up to the private airport, parking in a secure lot before making our way to the tarmac with our luggage. We must look ridiculous with the sheer amount of luggage we’ve brought with us, but being Layla’s first out-of-state trip, neither of us know what she’ll need. So I’m pretty sure Rian has packed everything.
The baggage handlers meet us next to the plane, taking all our luggage to place in the cargo hold. Thanking them, we move towards the staircase, Rian and Layla ascending first. I follow behind, my confidence from before now wavering. A cheer erupts as Layla and Rian disappear behind the curtain at the top of the stairs, and I take a breath before stepping through.
Marcus is the first to notice me after the cheers die down, jumping up from his seat and moving to give me a hug.
“Othelia!” Maverick yells, pushing past Marcus to get in on the hugs. “Thank God there’s now someone decent to talk to! If I have to hear Keppler go on about his wiener for another four-hour flight, we might be short a defenseman by the time we hit Dallas.”
“Hey! Shut up, Mav. You love looking at photos of my wiener!” Keppler yells from the back row. I cover my mouth with my fist. If this is the first minute, it’s gonna be an interesting trip.
Grabbing my hand, Maverick yells back to my brother, “She’s with me,” while whisking me down the aisle. His shoulder length black hair whips behind him, reminding me of Jericho. We get to the third to last row, him still talking about the trip and schedule, but I stop short, distracted by the man sitting in the window seat.
His tailored charcoal suit fits like a second skin, one leg crossed over the other, his jacket slung over the back of his chair. A crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, exposing his tanned muscular forearms, tattoos on full display, though now the designs have spread onto the backs of his hands. I see what looks like a Nordic symbol on his left hand and a compass on his right. They flex as I stare at them, and I hear the sound of his sharp inhale as my eyes find his, heat simmering in the swirling shades of blue.
Shit. He’s caught me checking him out. That was not the plan.
“Wills!” His eyes reluctantly leave mine to acknowledge Mav talking to him. “You remember Othelia, right? Oh yeah, that’s right, she was your partner at Caps pool party.” Damn you, Maverick, for bringing that up point two seconds after I’ve entered the plane.
So much for pretending like it never happened. He ushers me into the middle seat, dropping next to me, sandwiching me between their muscular legs. Mav continues to talk like he can’t feel the simmering tension that has just fallen like a dark cloud over this conversation.
“I’m so pumped you’ll be traveling with us for the next few away games,” Mav says.
Those smoldering eyes move from the window back to me in a sweeping caress that turns my body molten. His gaze turns hard and cold when he looks back at Mav, not even bothering to answer his question.
“So, how are you going, living with Rian full time? Can’t be easy with your schedule,” Mav asks.
“It’s definitely a change but I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. With everything, I don’t want to take anything for granted and at this point I’m in no rush to go back to LA.” The longer I can avoid Clay and that fallout, the better.
Mav leans forward, tries to involve Rook into the conversation, ignoring the way he scowls at the window. “Did you know our Tilly is a real-life rock star, Wills?” Looking back to me, Mav continues even though he gets no reply from the mountain of a man next to me. “We should take you out while we’re in Dallas, show you how us pros party. Well, not Wills. He never goes out or does anything fun.”
My head turns to the man in question to find him staring straight at me, like he’s trying to absorb as much information as he can.
“I don’t know, Mav. I’m here to help Rian. Plus, I probably shouldn’t be leading you all astray.” I throw him a wink.
“We shall see what Dallas brings, then,” he jests, knocking me with his elbow, grinning wide, and I swear I can hear a growl from my right.
I pull my phone out of my jacket pocket and unlock it, sighing at all the missed messages and phone calls from Clay, but laughing to myself at the nickname Charlie changed his caller ID to.
Douche Canoe
Baby, please answer the phone so we can talk.
You mean the world to me. I won't lose you.
If you don’t respond, I’ll fly to Chicago and make you understand.I won’t let you go, Othelia.
I can’t believe you’re overreacting so much about this. It wasn’t a big deal.Cut the shit and call me back or I’ll see you in Chicago.
I swipe them away, but a snort to my right catches my attention. I raise my eyebrows in Rook’s direction.
“Something funny?”
He tries to hide his smile by rubbing his tattooed hand over his mouth, but I still catch it. “Douche Canoe?” He struggles to suppress his laughter as his chest shakes.
“Yeah.” I glance back at my phone, swiping away the last missed calls. “Long fucking story. Well, not so long: cheating boyfriend and a nickname my hilarious friend thought would cheer me up.” My best fake smile shot his way is my answer.
As if sensing my heartache, his smile drops and he looks back out the window, and I assume we’re done talking.
I settle in, leaning my head on the headrest, closing my eyes, mind reeling as we get ready to take off.
A husky voice stirs me as we speed down the runway.
“He’s an idiot.”
I open my eyes and glance over at him. “I’m sorry, what?”
“He’s an idiot if he thinks he can find better than you.”
Those stormy blue eyes swirl like hurricanes, shaking my entire being. I stare at him, dumbstruck, not knowing how to respond, but his gaze moves back out the window as we lift off the tarmac and soar into the sky.
My heart seems to have found its own wings, beating with renewed energy and shedding the protective layers of dust and cobwebs that surround it.