Chapter 3 #2
“Anyway, we got together in the second semester of freshman year, and when I finally signed a contract with New York just before my senior year, we got married. We’ve been together ever since.
” I swallow the sudden lump in my throat.
“Well, I guess not technically. We, uh, we separated when she went to London.”
“When?” Locke asks.
“Huh?”
“When did you separate?”
I’m not entirely sure how to answer his question. It wasn’t like it was one moment. It was a lot of little ones that led to it, and Chloe was already away when it became “official.”
“I guess it was shortly after I moved to Seattle to join the Serpents. Things were already rocky before then, but we didn’t make it official until…”
She’d already been gone for almost three months at that point, living abroad doing her internship. It happened over a phone call, one of the few we had exchanged. We always said it was because of the time zone difference, but it was an excuse to not face things head-on.
I shake away the memory, taking another long pull from my coffee before continuing. “Anyway, we’ve had little contact since then.”
“Why aren’t you divorced?”
“Dude,” Hayes hisses at Lawson with a glower. “Do you have no filter at all?”
“What?” He lifts his shoulders. “I’m just asking what everyone else is wondering.”
“It’s okay, Hayes,” I say, surprising everyone, including myself, by defending Lawson. “It’s a valid question, but I don’t have an answer.”
Or at least not one I’m willing to share. I know why I haven’t started the process for a divorce, but I don’t know why Chloe hasn’t, especially since she’s the one who has insisted on staying away.
Fox clears his throat. “So, uh, what is she doing here in Seattle, then?”
“And who was that guy at Top Shelf last night?”
“Lawson!”
There’s a loud smack, then an equally loud oof as Hayes lays into him. This time, I don’t defend him.
“Your guess is as good as mine,” I say to Fox, finishing off my coffee. I set the empty cup aside to worry about later.
“You didn’t talk last night?” Hutch asks.
I shake my head, crossing my arms over my chest. “Wasn’t really in the mood.”
That’s the truth. I had to walk away. I was angrier than I’ve ever been, and I didn’t trust myself not to hurl hurtful words at her that I wasn’t so sure I would be able to take back.
How can she show up here without any preamble? How can she expect me to be okay when she walked in the door on another man’s arm, then tried to placate me with some bullshit reasoning? I didn’t want to hear it then, and I don’t want to hear it now.
I drop my arms, flexing my hands, which are suddenly feeling tight. I need to hit something. Or better yet, someone.
“What time did Coach Smith say practice is this morning?” I need to relieve the tension building in my shoulders, and smashing people against the boards sounds like the perfect solution.
“You didn’t get the text?” Locke asks.
“My phone is off,” I explain, having powered it down the second I tipped the Uber driver who dropped me at my apartment. Not that it mattered. It’s not like my wife bothered to try to call or text me after I left her standing there.
The veteran player—and the oldest guy on the team—exchanges a glance with the captain at my answer.
If I were up for more conversation, I’d ask what the hell that’s about, but right now I just want to skate and work out my frustration on the ice.
It’s always been my favorite outlet, so why not use it now, too?
“We got the day off. Guess the old man stayed up too late last night or something,” Lawson says, opening a cabinet.
He pulls out a box of cat treats and shakes it my way as if I don’t know what’s inside my own apartment.
“Uh, no judgment, Kells, but I’m like ninety-nine percent sure you’re not supposed to just casually snack on cat treats. Look, it even says Not for humans.”
I grab the box out of his hands, pop it open, grab a few, and set it back down. “They aren’t for me, dumbass. They’re for my cat.”
“You have a fucking cat?”
Just then, Percy comes running out from his favorite hiding spot, otherwise known as the spare bedroom, and gives each of the guys standing around my apartment a dark look.
I’m sure he’s confused considering I’ve only had a handful of people at my place over the years and it’s mostly been the pet sitter.
“Yes,” I answer Lawson. The mostly white cat trots up to me and launches himself into my arms like we’ve practiced it a hundred times, and we might as well have. “Now stop yelling before you scare him.”
I cradle Percy as I feed him his favorite treat. He knows exactly what the box sounds like, so it’s no surprise he decided to make an appearance when I opened it.
“Where the hell did you get a cat? When did you get one? Holy shit! He only has three legs! And how did we not know you’re married?”
The guy is crashing out, and while some of it is valid, I don’t have the patience for it, so I ignore Lawson’s questions and look at my captain. “Since there’s no practice today, can we conclude this little intervention you’ve staged? I could use a few more hours of sleep. It was a long night.”
Locke rolls his eyes, and Fox sighs.
“Keller, man—” Hayes starts, but I shake my head, cutting off his words.
“No. Don’t Keller me, okay? I want to be alone.
” Fox opens his mouth to speak, but I keep going.
“I don’t give a shit if you guys think that’s a good idea or not.
It’s what I want. So—and I say this with all the respect in the world, except for you, Lawson—get the fuck out of my apartment and lock the door behind you. ”
Then I push between them—Percy still curled in my arms—and I walk into my bedroom, slamming the door shut behind me. I rest against the door, listening as they poorly whisper at one another.
“What the actual fuck?” Hayes asks.
“Are we seriously just going to let him walk away? He’s clearly not okay,” Fox says, concern lacing every word. I’m sure this is killing him. He’s a fixer, always stepping up to help when people need it.
He can’t fix this though.
“It’s what he wants. We need to respect that.” Hutch has always had a good head on his shoulders, but he’s become an even better leader since the birth of his daughter.
“The captain is right. We need to respect it.”
“It was your idea to come here, Locke. And I have more questions,” Lawson argues, and I’d bet my left nut they’re having to push him out of the apartment.
Ten heavy feet stomp through the living room to the door, and just before it clicks shut, I hear Lawson say, “I can’t believe he has a fucking cat. Did you guys know he has a cat?”
Then silence. I’m relieved by it and hate it all at the same time.
Meow.
I look down at Percy, who is licking his lips and staring up at me, hoping for more snacks.
“I’m all out, little man. Sorry.”
Meow.
He wiggles in my arms, trying to squirm free, and I let him go. He trots across the room to my bed, curls up on my pillow—his second favorite spot in the house—and closes his eyes like he’s exhausted from his excursion.
I have to agree. I’m exhausted too. I spent most of the night tossing and turning or lying awake replaying every second of last night, from the way that navy dress clung to Chloe’s curves to the way her face fell when I yelled at her on the sidewalk.
So, I do what any sensible person would do when their estranged wife comes barreling back into their life—I crawl into bed and close my eyes, pretending it was all just a bad dream.
For the second time today, I’m awakened by a loud knock on my door.
“Ugh!” I grit my teeth together, then grab my pillow—now cold and empty—and put it over my head to try to drown out the noise.
It doesn’t work.
“Go away!” I yell at my teammates, then peek at the clock on my bedside table.
It’s almost eleven, which means I’ve been sleeping for just over two hours. Based on how heavy and tired my eyes are, it’s not enough, and I guess my words aren’t enough either because they knock again.
“That’s it,” I grumble as I jump out of bed. It’s quick enough to scare Percy, who goes running as fast as his three legs can carry him, darting off to I don’t even know where.
I wrench open my bedroom door and stomp through the living room to the door just as he raps his knuckles against it again.
“Back off, you fuckers. Don’t you get that I don’t want to talk? Fuck!” I growl as I fling open the door.
Only it’s not Locke. Or Hutch, Hayes, Fox, or Lawson.
No.
It’s simultaneously the last person and the only person I want to see right now.
“Clover.”
The side of her mouth rises ever so slightly. “Callum.”
And just like that, I’m transported back to the first time my name dropped from her lips.