58. Win-Win
58
WIN-WIN
RORY
T he silence is unnerving.
I’ve been up for hours, sitting cross-legged on my bed, hesitant to leave the room.Too afraid to face my husband .
After turning the room over, I was incredibly disappointed to find all the drawers and closets empty.
I’m fairly certain I heard Aidan leave his room a while ago. Which means it’s likely empty… I have the option of either shrugging my shimmery dress back on or darting across the hall to raid Aidan’s room for another pair of boxers and t-shirt.
Could I just ask Aidan for some clothes? Yes, but something changed when we made those vows and I feel—I don’t know how I feel. And maybe that’s the problem… What was light and easy all at once became heavy and hard. I don’t know how to act around Aidan. We said this marriage was paper only, a temporary solution to a mutual problem—but it doesn’t feel that way… At least not to me.
The past 48 hours are catching up to me and I’m anxious. I have nothing else to do but think about it. Did I make the right decision?
Hunger eventually drives me from my room.
I turn the knob carefully to not make any noise, cringing at the loud whining sound the door makes when I drag it open. I’m too busy looking between Aidan’s closed door and the stair landing for him, that I don’t see the bags until I’m tripping over them. Luckily, I catch myself with my hands before face planting into the rich mahogany hardwoods.
Frozen for a minute, thinking for sure Aidan would’ve heard me wipe out. I don’t move. When he doesn’t come running, I release a sigh and push myself up to my knees to inspect what exactly it is I’ve tripped over.
Several paper bags of various colors lay now scattered across the hall, thanks to me careening into them.I steal a peek into the closest one and a spark of hope blooms in my chest at the sight of women’s clothing.
Gathering up the bags, I drag them all back into my room. I kick the door shut, locking it, and dump the contents out across the bed I made hours ago—out of boredom.
I stare wide eyed at my haul.
Sweatshirts, leggings, t-shirts and tanks. All brand new and my size. Styles similar to the clothes I’m used to sporting at the rink. There’s even a small bag full of lingerie. Nothing too crazy, but it’s all soft and lacy and feels nice on my skin.
I can’t help but notice Aidan’s included a fair bit of Breakers gear in the haul: a black beanie with a green shamrock and a hoodie with the Breakers logo. There are also two Breakers’ jerseys—home and away— with, of course, O’Rourke #19 on the back.
I fold everything up and carefully put each item away in the drawers of the bureau or hang it in the closet. I select the buttery soft, sage green sweat set to wear for the day, along with a pair of thick woolen socks. The cabin is warm enough, but it’s still winter, and the floors are ice cold against my bare feet.
I eye the Breakers gear hanging in my closet. It definitely raises the question of what exactly Aidan’s going to do about hockey? He can’t just disappear from the team. He has commitments, practices, games… and from the media reports, his spot on the team this season is tenuous at best…
The Belles have a bye this week because the team is away, but Aidan’s supposed to be in Toronto for an away series the day after next.
Hockey brings my thoughts around to my skating career and instantly sours the good mood the new clothes have inspired. I knew when I ran from the Bratva I was lighting a match to my career. There’s no way it will ever be safe for me to compete again. I try not to think about the Belles. It’s a loss I haven’t yet mourned, so I shove it away, still not yet ready to face that particular consequence for my actions.
As if on cue, the distinct sound of a stick and puck on ice catches my attention.
It draws me to my window, where I finally locate Aidan, gliding across the frozen lake, close by the house, making quick movements with his hands. The dark circle of a puck flashes between the cage his stick creates until he winds up and slaps it hard. It clinks against the beat-up looking metal post of the goal he’s dragged out there.
I watch him for a minute. He’s dressed only in sweats, gloves, skates, and a backwards baseball hat. Then I realize… if Aidan’s on the ice… the house is empty.
I slide across the bedroom floor on my slippery socks and I’m out the door and down the stairs faster than you can say hockey. I go straight to raiding the kitchen for anything to soothe my roaring stomach.
The premade protein shake in the fridge with my name scrawled across the bottle is a surprise. So is the stack of pancakes next to it, waiting for me in a glass container.
I down the shake while heating the pancakes in the microwave. It takes a minute to find the plates and silverware. The shake is so good. The thick chocolate coats the inside of my stomach and eases the nauseous feeling not eating can bring about.
When the pancakes are ready, I debate running back up to my room to eat them, but I can still hear hockey sounds coming off the lake and so I slide onto one of the kitchen island’s stools. As I eat, I watch Aidan practice from afar through the large windows that look out over the most amazing view of the lake and snow-capped mountain in the distance.
Once finished, I rinse off my dishes and load them into the dishwasher before exploring the cabin a little.
The O’Rourke cabin is large, but most of the downstairs is open-concept. In the light of day, it’s bright and sunny. The entire back end of the cabin is made up entirely of windows, offering a picturesque view of the lake outside. Having spent most of the day sequestered in my room, the sun has already begun to set. The beautiful orange and gold light reflects off of the snowy surface of the lake and the effect is breathtaking.
I freeze at the sight of the cluster of lights at the far end of the lake. A town. It must be a town. The sight of it gives me an idea…
Now that I’m out of Boston, it would be much harder to track me. If I can make it to that town and beg a ride to the nearest bus station, I could be anywhere within a matter of days.
I sit up a little straighter as I work out the details of my getaway plan. The thought of ditching Aidan and the O’Rourkes leaves a pang of guilt deep in my gut, but I reason it away with the fact that I barely know them. And if I just so happened to disappear , it might be best for everybody…
The Bratva and the Italians would no longer have a reason to wage war on the Irish. It’s a win-win.
Now all I have to do is run…