Chapter 19
Nineteen
Tedi
It’s about three-quarters of the way through the third period. I told Coach Buford I wouldn’t interfere during the game, but I need to get some footage when they’re coming off the ice.
I lean over and whisper to Decker, “I’m going to go, thanks again. I’ll call you this week.”
He nods, more enthralled with Rowan skating down the ice, passing to Henry than with what I’m saying.
Tweetie skates by, and I decide to get the hell out of here. He already scored two goals, and I don’t want to see him get a hat trick in the first game of his I’ve been to in years.
I’m halfway up the stairs when I catch everyone’s eyes glued to the ice with expressions of awe. Unable to stop myself, I circle around as Tweetie shoots the puck and the buzzer goes off. The entire arena is on their feet, cheers and roars and screams blaring. They chant Tweetie over and over again, all the fans throwing their hats onto the ice.
I watch him on the ice, celebrating with his teammates, and I smile because I do love to watch him play even if I hate it just the same. His enthusiasm is infectious, and he’s worked so hard to be so prominent this far into his career.
I turn back around and run up the stairs, unable to watch. His love for hockey is part of the reason we didn’t work out. It’s hard to remember that, though, when I see him on the ice.
With my pass, I get into the back tunnel, and I’m ready with my phone as the third period ends, and the Falcons win three to one.
They all file through the tunnel, ecstatic from their win. It’s the different reactions that I love capturing as they pass me—the goofballs on the team always sticking out their tongue or saying something into the camera, while the quieter guys just give me a nice smile and keep walking. The Trifecta and Conor are the last to come off the ice, and they’re all congratulating Tweetie on his hat trick.
“I think that solidifies our theory,” Conor says.
“Definitely, your best game of the season.” Henry draws back when he sees me holding my phone up for a video, but he smiles and nods, continuing to walk.
“I’ve had plenty of good games this year,” Tweetie says, stopping altogether when he sees me.
“Just admit it, you wanted to—” Rowan stumbles into Tweetie’s back, and I wonder what this theory of theirs is.
“It was just a good game. There was no other reason for it. It’s dedication and hard work,” Tweetie says, eyeing me and not the phone. “I was bound to get a hat trick this season with all my offseason work, unlike you slackers.”
He continues walking, and Conor dips his head at me with a small smile.
There goes that footage to use on socials. I can’t show Tweetie calling his teammates out for being slackers.
I stop the video and pocket my phone, walking down the hall. The locker room is loud and boisterous, and I continue my trek down the hallways, having learned my way around a little more this last week. As I’m about to leave and go back to my lonely apartment, the wives and girlfriends and Decker step off the elevator.
“Hey, I bet they’re so happy.” Jade beams. “Did you get some great footage?”
They start down the hall the way I just came, so I walk with them. “Um… a little. I’m sure there’s something I can use.”
“Did you see Tweetie?” Bodhi asks me.
He is so adorable.
“I did.” I feign excitement.
“He stopped smiling when he looked at the stands and you weren’t there. Did you tell him good job?” He rises on his toes and lowers his voice. “He hasn’t scored in three games.” His cringe makes me smile, and I ruffle his hair.
“I guess his luck is turning around.” I ignore the idea that maybe Tweetie was upset I didn’t see his third goal because that’s not anything I’m ready to dissect just yet.
“Daddy says it’s not good luck,” Bodhi says. “It’s practice.”
Jade wraps her arms around Bodhi, and he squirms out of her hold before running over to a little girl standing with her mom on the other side of the room.
“Is this the girlfriends’ and wives’ room?” I ask Jade.
“It’s the family room. Welcome.” Eloise envelops me in a hug.
“I was just about to go.” I peer over her shoulder and give Decker a “what the fuck” expression.
We’d both already planned to sneak out of here and not have to go to the club with them. The only reason I got Decker here was for the game, since I can get him that close to the glass.
“No, we’re going out,” Eloise says.
“Yeah, if I’m going, you’re going.” Jade points from me to her. “We just have to drop Bodhi off at my parents’.”
“I say we suggest going to Peeper’s Alley. The last place I want to be tonight is a club with loud music and a bunch of girls trying to get into our VIP section because they want our men. I’m not in the mood.” Kyleigh looks really tired.
“Don’t mind her, she’s cranky. There’s a bride at work who’s giving her hell.” Eloise thumbs in Kyleigh’s direction.
“Oh, what do you do?” I ask.
“I’m a wedding dress designer.”
“She has her own shop and everything.” Eloise puts her arm around her friend’s shoulders, looking so proud.
God, I miss Saige so much.
“Oh, I’d love to see it. Not that I’m getting married.” I laugh, and they all smile but don’t say anything. Okay, tough room.
“You’re welcome to come anytime. I’ll give you the address.” Kyleigh gives me a warm smile.
We talk a little more about what the rest of them do. Eloise is a stylist, and it’s a new venture for her. Jade is a photographer. I suddenly feel like the least creative of the bunch. How do I fit in? Then again, I don’t have to. I’m not Tweetie’s girl, so it doesn’t matter. Maybe he’ll find himself a baker, and they can all live happily ever after.
Okay, I’m bitter. This isn’t good.
“Excuse me,” I say, heading over to Decker, who is standing against the wall with his phone in his hand. “Why are you here?” I whisper. “You were supposed to leave.”
He glances up. “They’re like a cult. They wouldn’t let me even go to the bathroom on my own. They were waiting for me when I finished. And then Bodhi talked to me the entire time about my baseball season, asking me about Easton Bailey and stuff. I couldn’t sneak off.”
“Then I guess we’re going out with them,” I growl and lean along the wall with him.
“I’m not sure I understand this charade you’re putting on. I mean, you two were at each other’s throats the other night at dinner. If you don’t like each other, don’t be around each other, then I can go live my own life.”
“Boo hoo, Decker. If you don’t know what that fight at the table was really about, then you’ve obviously never loved anyone. Just play along.”
“I’m done with this. You want to let out my secrets? Go ahead, I was a kid.” He pushes off the wall.
“Okay, how about the time you stole the good rum from my dad’s bar? The one he got in Mexico and couldn’t replace?”
He narrows his eyes at me.
“Right now he assumes it was Toby or Theo. But maybe I will enlighten him.” I shrug.
“Your dad wouldn’t care. I’ll get him a case and send it to him to make up for it.”
I hum and shake my head. “You could, but then my dad thinks you’re a thief. Your reputation will be forever tarnished.”
I almost feel bad because Decker is an all-around great guy, and he cares what people think about him. And now I’m using that against him. But I need him. I’m a desperate woman.
“This entire thing is demented.” He huffs next to me. “This is the last thing I’m doing.”
We stand in silence, and I bury my head in my phone, replaying the footage on slow speed to see what parts of it I can make work. I pause the video right as Tweetie came off the ice. There’s no anger, almost happiness to see me there, but it vanishes right away into a hard glare.
“I think he still wants you,” Decker whispers, knocking his shoulder to mine.
I look up at him. His whole face softens when he looks at me. “No, he doesn’t. Our time is over.”
“The other night at the restaurant, he asked me about your boyfriend before he knew I was him.”
“Of course he did.” I roll my eyes, but Decker’s face only shows sincerity.
“He asked me if you were happy.”
Warmth spreads through my body, and my heart picks up pace. I have no idea what to say, but I don’t have a chance because Tweetie and the guys burst through the doors, and everyone claps, congratulating them on the win.
“Next time, don’t tell me things like that.” I hate that I’m taking it out on Decker, but I don’t want to know that Tweetie wants me happy. It just makes everything harder.
“I just?—”
I shake my head. “Let’s just get tonight over with.”
I watch Tweetie pick up Bodhi, swinging him around, and I ignore the pull in my ovaries that says it could’ve been our son he was swinging around the room after a great game, but that wasn’t our destiny, and it never will be.