Chapter 12 – Zane
twelve
Zane
I walk out of the bathroom and I’m about to head to the table, when I see her sit down and then turn to the side to talk to her fucking date.
Who, by the way, is the biggest fucking tool I’ve ever met, and I’ve met plenty of fucking tools in my life.
“Hey, Coach,” Woods says, coming to me, “you have a minute?”
I look back over at Victoria and see her bare shoulder and my teeth bite down, wishing I could bite her right there before I mark her.
I want to tell him that I’ll talk to him another time, but I also want my players to know they can come to me for anything.
“Sure thing,” I say reluctantly and motion over to the empty table in the corner. “Should we sit?”
“Yeah,” he agrees. I turn to walk over to the table, pulling out the chair that faces the restaurant and the front door. This is pure torture for me, seeing her laugh with someone else, wanting it to be me, but knowing I shouldn’t fucking go there with her.
“What’s on your mind?” I ask him and he looks around to make sure no one looks like they are listening to us.
“I was going to talk to you on Monday,” he starts to say, and I can tell he’s nervous.
“Yeah, well, no time like the present.”
“I know that you are switching around the lines and stuff.” He looks down and I hate that he’s nervous to talk to me.
“Woods,” I call his name and he looks up, “whatever you say to me stays between us. My door is open, but you have to know that you can trust me.”
“It’s just that—” He leans back. “I would like the chance to play on the first line,” he starts to say, “my game has gotten better.”
“Your game has gotten a lot better.” I give him the encouragement because it has.
“You went from a minus three to a plus one.” I give him his stats, even though he knows them.
“And you are spending lots more time on the ice doing one-on-one with Eric. It shows and it shows how determined you are to get better for yourself and the team.” I point at him.
“It is also going to help you with your confidence.”
“I am, and he’s the best.” He quickly covers that up. “I mean, obviously you too.”
“Obviously me too.” I joke with him to not have him feel bad. “I see nothing but good things for you this year.”
I laugh with him and then motion catches my eyes. I look up, seeing her get up but then my view is obstructed when Jaxon comes over to us. “We’re heading out,” he says and I look up and hold out my hand to shake his.
He shakes my hand and then looks over at Woods. “Good game out there.” He slaps his shoulder. “Coming into your own.”
“Trying to.” He laughs as he looks at me.
I look beside Jaxon at Ariella, who is standing beside him, holding his hand as I give her a nod. “Good seeing you,” I tell her, being polite. “Hope to see you again soon.”
“Come by anytime.” She smiles at me and then the two of them walk out and I can see Victoria standing with Elliott. He puts his hand on her back, and I have the sudden urge to get up and go over to her and break his hand for touching her.
“What is this little meeting?” Owen asks, pulling up a chair to the table and my eyes fly back to Woods.
“No meeting,” I say. “Just talking about the game today.”
“It was good,” Owen states. “We got fucking lucky there with the last goal.”
“It wasn’t luck. It was a rebound shot,” I tell Owen as he looks at me. “It’s what I’ve been telling you guys all along. You take the shot and then someone will take the rebound.”
“No offense, Coach,” he says and the hair on the back of my neck tingles, “but you can’t say that.”
“Why not?” I ask. “Last game, Lane took the shot off the crossbar.” He looks at me.
“Went out of play. We got a face-off in the zone and then we scored. I’m saying that you have to take the shot.
Don’t sit back and second-guess yourself or your team.
” He doesn’t say anything. “Everyone on that ice wants to win. But you can’t win at it alone.
” I don’t say anything more when a couple of the rookies come over and sit at the table.
“How did you guys think the switching of lines went tonight?” I look around the table.
“I went from the second line to the fourth line,” Owen grumbles. “I fucking hated it.”
“Thanks,” One of the rookies who is on his line says and it makes us laugh.
“No offense,” Owen says to him, no doubt feeling like a dick or maybe he doesn’t give a shit.
The rookie just looks at him and then back at me as he brings up a couple of plays that he thinks he should have been better at.
We sit around and talk about the game, and I finally get up about forty-five minutes later and look around the table.
“Tonight has been fun, boys.” I look at each of them.
“Monday it’s back to the grind. Maybe I’ll switch up the lines some more,” I say and Woods silently nods his head.
“Rest up,” I tell them as I look around, seeing that most of the team has left, so I walk out the door.
I start my SUV and driving home fills me with dread. Walking into the house alone, the quiet of the night is deafening this time. The light’s on in the kitchen as I head toward the stairs and to my bedroom.
Walking straight to my closet as I take off the jacket, I then pull out the phone.
“Don’t fucking do it,” I tell myself, but at the same time my fingers are on the screen and I’m calling her number.
A number I should have deleted after she called.
“Fuck it,” I swear as I find her name and then press call.
It rings twice and then is sent to voicemail.
“Hi, you’ve reached Tori.” My cock springs to action when I hear her voice.
“I’m busy or I don’t want to take your call, either way, you can leave me a message or don’t.
I have caller ID, so if I want to talk to you, I’ll call you back.
If I don’t, you are probably on the ‘I don’t want to talk to you’ list.” She ends the message with a chuckle and that makes me laugh.
I look down at the phone and see the numbers on the screen move up by the second and instead, I hang up.
I pull out my shirt from my pants and unbutton it before heading to the shower.
Bringing my phone into the bathroom with me, in case she calls, but knowing she probably won’t.
I slide my black boxers on before checking my phone and then grab a pair of basketball shorts.
I get into bed, putting the phone on the bedside table, checking it for what feels like the hundredth time.
Reaching for the remote and turning on the television, I flip through until I get to SportsCenter and see a recap of all the games.
I’m half listening to them recap one of the games and all I can do is think about her. Picture her here with me.
I don’t even know what I’m doing as I move across the room, getting out of bed and heading back into my closet and opening the drawer to take out a T-shirt.
I slip on my slides and walk over to the dresser, where I snatch up the keys and my wallet.
I give myself a chance to think deeper about I’m doing before I’m pulling out of the driveway.
I make my way over to her house and see there is no car in the driveway, which means dickhead isn’t there.
But there are no lights on at all, which could also mean she’s not fucking home and she’s with him.
The thought makes me grip the steering wheel even harder before I get out and shut the door. “Are you just going to show up at her fucking door?” I ask myself as I walk up the pathway to the house. “Yes,” I mumble to myself, “Yes, I fucking am.” I hold up my hand and knock on the door.
I put my hands out to hold onto the side of the door and listen to hear if I can hear anything. I look down at the cement and then up when I knock again, this time a bit harder than I did before.
I take out my phone and pull up her number again, calling her.
It rings once and then I’m sent straight to voicemail.
I hang up the phone when I see light coming from the side of the door, and I take a step back.
My heart feels like it’s coming out of my chest. Half of my head is screaming at me that this is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done, while the other half is telling me this is what I should do.
“Who is it?” she asks.
“You know damn well who it is,” I bark out, my voice a bit louder than I want it to be.
“Say your name,” she demands, and I put my hands on my hips.
“Victoria,” I say her name between clenched teeth.
“Is that your name?” I hear her voice through the door. “You don’t sound like a Victoria.”
“Open the door,” I snap.
“No,” she retorts. “This is very much like Little Red Riding Hood and when she opened the door to her grandmother’s house the wolf was there to eat her.”
“This woman is going to,” I mumble. “You know who it is, so open the door.”
“Sounds like what a wolf would say,” she singsongs, and I pull up her number on my phone and call her again. I’m expecting it to go to voicemail but then I hear her answer.
“Hello,” she practically sings it out.
“This isn’t funny.” I grip the phone in my hand. “Open the fucking door.”
“No, you would be wrong,” she snaps. “This is very, very funny.”
“Would you please open the door?” My voice is low and tight. “I’m not leaving until you open the door.” I look down at the phone when I hear the dead signal and see she hung up on me. “I’m not leaving,” I tell the door, “so you are eventually going to have to open the door.”
“Ugh,” she groans, “fine.” I hear the locks click open.
“But only because I don’t want my neighbors to call the cops and then you end up in jail for disturbing the peace.
” The door slowly opens and she’s standing in front of me wearing a black silk robe that is loosely tied around her waist. “Oh, it’s you.
This is a surprise.” She cocks her hip. “Not a nice surprise though.”
“Are you not going to invite me in?” I ask her and she shakes her head.
“I was not going to invite you in.” She folds her arms over her chest, and when the robe opens in the front giving me a peek at her lace bra, I feel myself pulled further into her orbit. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to talk to you,” I reply and even I don’t believe what I’m doing here. Her eyebrows go up. “Are you alone?”
“No,” she snaps, and my heart sinks to my ass, “I’m throwing a party obviously.”
“Is he here?” I hiss out at her.
“No.” She glares at me. “You just missed him.”
“Did you let him touch you?” I growl out and she glares at me.
“It’s none of your business. You made it none of your business when you let me walk away from you. Again.” Her voice goes louder now and she’s angry. “What I do is none of your—” She stops talking but only because I storm into the house and she moves back.
“That is where you’re wrong,” I hiss. “When it comes to you, it’s my fucking business.”