Chapter 3
KELLER
An unrelenting pounding wakes me up, and it’s Percy screaming at the top of his lungs that tells me it’s not all in my head. It’s at my door.
With a groan, I toss my sheet off my body and set my feet on the floor.
About a hundred elephants dance around my skull, or at least that’s what it feels like as I scrub a hand over my face.
Another round of knocking reverberates through my apartment, but I don’t move yet.
I’m afraid if I do, I might puke. It has nothing to do with drinking either.
I came home and crawled right into this bed to rot.
I didn’t touch another drop of booze, even though I really wanted to.
No, it’s just that reality is that tough of a pill to swallow, and the reality is my wife is here in Seattle, and I had no fucking idea she was even stateside. How the hell did Chloe end up in Seattle? Why is she here? And, probably most importantly, who the fuck was that asshole she was with?
I grind my molars as images of his hand wrapped around her waist flit through my mind.
I remember that waist. I got a taste of it again last night when she fell against me.
She was soft, and my palm fit around her perfectly.
My fingers curled into her plush curves as they’ve done so many times before.
It felt like coming home after a long road trip. Better even.
It was the first time in years I’d touched my wife, and it wasn’t nearly enough.
“Who the fuck do you think you are, buddy?”
That prick’s words echo through my mind again, and I get angry all over again.
Why was he holding her? Why was she laughing at whatever the douche nozzle was saying?
And why didn’t she tell me she was here?
Things between us are strained to say the least, but not giving me so much as a phone call? Is that where we’re at in our marriage?
Yes.
I hate how much that word rings true in my mind.
Another attempt to get me to open the door draws my attention, and I’m so eager to get away from the thoughts tumbling around my mind that I push to my feet.
I tug on a pair of joggers, the same ones I stripped out of yesterday before heading to Top Shelf, and whatever shirt I find lying on the pile of laundry I still need to fold.
Then I shuffle out of my bedroom into the living room.
“Keller?” The knock is even louder than before. “It’s Locke. You in there, man?”
I want to ignore him, or better yet, tell him to fuck off and go away, but given what occurred last night, I doubt he will.
“Come on,” he says. “I can hear you moving around in there.”
With a sigh, I wrench open the door and find that the fucker lied. It’s not just Locke. It’s all of them.
“Serpents Singles to the rescue!” Lawson announces, pushing his way through the other guys and holding a to-go cup my way. “We brought coffee. It’s black just like your soul, but only because we didn’t know how you take it.”
“And donuts, too,” Hayes chimes in, holding up a box from B’s Bakes, his girlfriend’s mother’s bakery.
Hutch looks between the two, then smacks them both on the back of the head. “Dumbasses.”
“Hey!” Lawson protests, but Hayes accepts his punishment.
Though I’m annoyed by each of them, I send my glare Locke’s way. He should have known better. He’s only been in my apartment once before, when I had a delayed flight after visiting my family in Toronto and needed someone to check on Percy. “What are you doing here? All of you?”
“Uh, we’re getting answers. You dropped a bomb on us last night, then bolted. You didn’t even stay for your midnight kiss. I’ll give it to you later.” Lawson presses his finger to the tip of my nose, and I blame my lack of sleep for not moving in time. “Boop.”
He grins, and if he weren’t holding caffeine, which I’m in desperate need of, I’d sock him right in the gut. Instead, I take the drink, then slam the door closed.
Or at least that’s the plan, but a giant foot stops that from happening.
“Not a chance.”
This time, it’s Fox who speaks, and it stuns me so much I don’t even have time to react to Lawson barging into my apartment. He lets out a low whistle as the rest of the guys pile in behind him.
“Holy fuck, this is swanky!” he says as he takes in the expansive space.
“It’s basically identical to Locke’s. Stop acting surprised.”
“I’ve never been in Locke’s apartment,” he tosses back, his nose now pressed up against the photos lining the bookshelf I have up against the wall. He points at a picture. “Is this her?”
I don’t answer. I’m too busy throwing daggers Locke’s way.
“You brought him here before letting him into your apartment?”
He at least has the decency to look apologetic about it as he says, “We need to talk about last night.”
“What about last night?” I pretend not to know what he’s talking about as I make my way to the kitchen to fix my coffee the way I like it.
My eyes drift over all the junk I have on the front of the fridge, including the invitation to Hutch and Auden’s wedding next month. They land on a business card that’s been up there for three years now.
It was late at night at Top Shelf after I’d just moved to Seattle by myself, and I was drinking far more than I should have been.
Some schmoozy lawyer guy got me talking, and by the end of the night, I was walking home alone, his card advertising that he’s the best divorce attorney in the city gripped tight in my hand.
I should have thrown it away, but I tacked it to the fridge.
At the time, I wasn’t sure Chloe would ever come back to me.
And truthfully, after last night, I’m still not.
I snatch the card down, tossing it into the junk drawer to deal with later, and pull open the fridge.
“Holy shit.” Lawson’s voice makes me jump, especially since it’s so close. I didn’t even notice he came into the kitchen, and I definitely didn’t notice him standing right behind me. “You’re a creamer guy? And a lot of it too, I see.” He tsks. “I don’t think our nutritionist would approve of that.”
I replace the carton of butter pecan goodness, then turn around and shove him—hard—before taking a drink.
“Hey, rude. I brought you coffee.” He pouts, rubbing at his chest as if he doesn’t take bigger hits on the ice.
“Fuck off, Lawsy.”
“Nah.” He grins, then practically skips through the open-concept apartment to the living room, where he plops down on the sofa. He grabs the TV remote before kicking his feet up on the coffee table and turning the big flat screen on.
Hayes rolls his eyes and pushes off the wall he’s been leaning against, snatches the remote from his hands, and shoves his feet off the table. He mutters something that sounds a hell of a lot like, “Quit being a fucking idiot, you idiot,” but I can’t be certain.
I’m distracted by three sets of eyes watching me closely. I fucking hate it. It makes my hands feel all tingly, and not in a good way.
“What?” I finally snap at Locke, Hutch, and Fox.
They all exchange glances, probably silently wondering who is going to be the one to ask the question they’re all dying to know the answer to. After several quiet moments, it’s Hutch who steps forward, which I guess makes sense with him being the captain and all.
Thumbs hooked into the belt loops of his jeans, he asks, “Why the hell didn’t you tell us you’re married?”
I shrug. “Didn’t seem important.”
I lift my coffee cup to my lips, taking a sip and ignoring the heated stares I’m receiving from each one of my teammates. Predictably, Lawson is the first one to say something.
“Not important?!” He explodes off my couch, his arms rising in the air. “How the hell is you being married not important, Keller?”
I shrug again. “It’s just not.”
“Bullshit.”
Fox says the single word so sharply it almost scares me. Almost.
I narrow my eyes at the usually overly nice goalie. “Excuse me?”
He shrugs, unbothered by my deathly stare. “You heard me. That’s bullshit, and you know it. We know it too.”
“Yeah,” Lawson speaks up, always needing to butt in.
“So maybe try that again,” Fox continues. “And maybe don’t fucking lie to people who consider you a brother.”
“I already have a brother. I don’t need more.”
“You have a brother?!” This is from Lawson again.
I ignore him, then take another drink, needing a moment before I try to explain to them something I can’t even explain to myself. To their credit—even Lawson’s—they wait. They give me time, letting me gather my thoughts the best I can.
I don’t know how long it has been before I finally speak, but I can tell it’s long enough, because Lawson is practically bouncing on his heels.
“I got married when I was twenty-one.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“Quiet!” Hayes barks, and Lawson mimes zipping his lips, as if that’s ever kept him silent before.
I continue. “After being drafted by New York, I committed to playing in college in Denver, which is where I met…”
Her name dies on the tip of my tongue. Just thinking of her and how happy we were back then makes my chest ache.
I reach for the chain around my neck, fingering it through my shirt.
What happened to us? What happened to those kids who were so fucking in love we got married when we were barely even old enough to legally drink at our reception?
Where did that go, and when did I miss their exit?
I think about my in-laws, whom I haven’t seen since my wife told me she wouldn’t be coming back from London, and I wonder if they know Chloe is here in Seattle. They always had a hold over her that I couldn’t explain, and I’d bet anything they have big feelings about it.
“Keller?”
I snap my attention to Hutch, who is staring at me with a soft, worried gaze. He’s not the only one. All the guys are looking at me in the same way—with pity.
I don’t fucking want it.