29. Rook
Chapter twenty-nine
Rook
My mind is all over the place when I enter the athlete entrance this morning with Othelia and still no update regarding my father. My mind won’t stop spinning. I just need to limit my focus to the next three hours and get through this game.
Our next game is against Seattle next weekend. I’m lucky to have such a great coach and GM that understands the situation… well, most of it. They’ve given me permission to fly out early and work on fixing this mess.
I make my way towards the locker rooms when I’m stopped by the most mesmerizing sound. Closing my eyes, I let the song consume me, my body drawn towards her by its enchanting melody.
As I gaze at her profile, I can’t help but think she is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. With her simple black dress, converse shoes, and black and red varsity jacket, she looks like she stepped right out of my dreams.
Her body sways as she sings to Layla in her arms. I’m floored when she turns the number fifty-nine stamped in red across her back. Pride fills my chest. It’s been so long since I’ve had someone in the stands with my number there for me.
A rush of anticipation washes over me, envisioning Othelia standing outside the locker room, the glimmer of a white gold band catching my eye as she sings not to Layla but to our own daughter.
I can picture it all so fucking clearly.
I feel the irresistible pull, her siren song calling only to me as she begins a new song, a song so familiar. My body shudders in response and I freeze.
Othelia rocks Layla, whose hand reaches up and plays with the long braid she has her silver hair tied into draped over her shoulder. Of all the songs she could be singing, why did it have to be this one?
The combination of the song and the way she looks pushes deep into my soul, and I’m suddenly eleven years old, dancing in the kitchen, smiles on our faces, no idea of the horrors that would be in our future. My mother singing along to Elvis as he croons about not being able to help falling in love. A time when I felt whole and not eaten through with the guilt of my actions.
Layla looks up at her with such reverence, like she’s finally worked out just how special Othelia is. I can feel the tightness in my heart, an overwhelming sensation that demands I feel the same. My mother had been a fool and I fear I may be one too. My throat constricts and eyes sting as tears try to push their way out.
My vision tunnels, focusing only on her, my body feeling like I’ve just done an hour of ice sprints and I suddenly can’t breathe. I need to move; I need to go. I can’t be here. I yank at the collar of my shirt, ripping the button off as I back down the hallway. When I make it to the nearest corner, I take one last glance at her before sprinting towards the visiting team’s locker room.
When I push the door open, an eruption of sound hits me, but I can’t take any of it in. I need to get to my locker room and the fastest way that doesn’t involve passing her is through here. People are yelling at me, but all I can see is the door on the other side. I push past anything or anyone in my way, needing to get away.
The coach from New York grabs my arm, bringing me to an immediate halt.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing in here?” he yells into my face, spit flying towards me, but I’m too numb to pull away. I try to respond, but I can’t make the words come out.
I nod towards the door that I’m three feet away from. He must read something in my face, the lack of color and the fact I’m practically shaking. He walks me to the door, yanks it open, and shoves me through it.
“I don’t want to see your face again unless it’s on the ice. Got it?” I nod as I back away, slamming myself through the back door of our locker room. The guys half-dressed around me all begin asking questions about my abrupt back entrance. I ignore them all, throwing my shit toward my stall as I make a beeline for the toilets.
Slamming the door behind me, I sink to my knees, emptying my stomach into the bowl. I sink back against the wall, forcing myself to breathe. I need to pull my shit together. I can’t fall apart now. The team needs me. I owe it to my mom for everything she has sacrificed. She has given her life for my dream and I can’t let anything get in the way.
I need to prove myself here so Seattle will want me next year and I can be there for her every day. She is the most important thing in my life and I need to focus on that. This infatuation with Othelia ends now.
My heart clenches at the declaration; it begs me to choose differently, but I force myself to push it aside. Dropping my mask back into place, I get ready to go to work.
The pep talk I gave myself in the locker room didn’t help. This has to be the worst game of my career; fuck, at this point, my life.
I’m missing simple passes, tripping over my own skates. Fuck, at one point I just about hand them the puck. Coach has spent the last hour screaming at me to get my shit together. We have five minutes left of the third and are somehow only down two goals, not with any help from me.
Rian gives me a questioning head tilt. I give him a quick nod and turn my attention back to the puck as it drops onto the ice.
Dupont slaps it away from New York and towards Rian, Kepler and I shoving our way past players to clear a space for him to make a break for it. He spins sideways around another player and sprints towards the goal on a breakaway. A quick flick of his wrist has the sirens blaring.
I glance up at the clock: three minutes, one goal will make us draw and give us a chance in overtime. Sweat beads on forehead, drawing hard breaths, I scope out the other team’s positions. My gaze sweeps across the ice and silver hair catches my attention.
There she is, standing at the glass, worried eyes locked on me.
My mind is so wrapped up on the small red fifty-nine over her heart that I flash to the sight of her standing in front of the locker rooms, the sound of her voice singing that song.
The puck smacking the floor snaps my attention back into the game, but not fast enough to avoid fumbling with my stick and tripping over their defense as he smashes into me. He passes to their center, who flies towards Maverick, but he isn’t quick enough to shut off the five hole. Sirens blare again, but this time it’s not for us.
I can already hear Coach screaming, “What the fuck were you thinking?” from the bench.
I know exactly what I was thinking about and it sure as hell wasn’t the game.
I grab my bag after leaving the shower, keeping my head down as taunts ring out from the team about my fumble. Making my way towards the door, I just want to get the fuck out of here.
I’m enveloped by coconut and vanilla the minute I push through the doors, my lungs instinctively inhaling and relaxing at the smell. Amidst the crowd of friends and family members of my teammates, thankfully, she’s distracted. I pass through the hall without drawing much interest, everyone too invested in their conversations.
Rounding the last corner, my freedom in sight, I’m halted when a delicate tattooed hand grips my elbow. She gives me a soft smile as I look back at her. Why has she come for me?
“Rook…” The gentleness in her voice almost has me breaking down on the spot. My gaze narrows as I slowly turn back towards her, silently questioning her intentions. “Are you okay?”
When I don’t reply, she continues, “It’s just, I’ve seen you play so many times now and something seemed off. You seemed distracted?” Yeah, with you and everything you’re making me feel. “You didn’t seem like yourself out there.”
My eyes drop to my number on her chest and I snap. Dropping my bag, I crowd her as I push her back into the wall. Memories of the last time I had her pinned against a wall try to surface and I’m guessing hers do too with the way her breath catches and her chest rises and falls rapidly. But I push them away, wanting to focus on my anger.
“And what the fuck would you know?” The venom spews from me uncontrollably. Her eyes search mine but I cut her off before she can answer. “We had one fucking bike ride and what, a few texts, and now you think you know me?” My hands fist against the wall. “You know nothing about me. Why don’t you mind your own fucking business? I’m not some replacement for your best friend.” I freeze as the last few words escape from my lips.
Her eyes fill with tears, but her face hardens as she refuses to let them fall. She places her hands on my chest, shoving me back away from her.
“Tilly, wait, I didn’t—” I move to step towards her, ready to apologize, but halt as she wraps her arms around her body to protect herself from me.
From me.
She turns her face away as she wipes a single tear that has graced her flawless cheek. I want to take it all back. Fuck, how could I have thrown those words in her face?
She goes to speak but can’t seem to get any words out. I step towards her, one hand reaching for her, but when she steps back, I drop it to my side.
“Othelia…” This time she cuts me off with a single hand up in front of her, a barrier between us.
“No, Rook, you’re right.” Anger fills her gaze now. “You couldn’t be half the friend she was.” With those last words, she storms off, disappearing around the corner.
I slam my fists into the wall with a roar, chest heaving. “What the fuck is wrong with me?”
This is what I wanted: her leaving me the hell alone. So why does it feel like part of my heart just walked away with her?