Chapter 42
Chapter Forty-Two
AIDAN
Iwish I could say that I channeled all my rage about Morgan’s date into the game.
I wish I could say that I went out onto the ice tonight and showed AJ that I’m as serious about staying in Boston for my next contract as I told her I was when we met earlier.
I wish I could say that it didn’t feel like every part of my life was falling apart right now. But it would all be lies.
“You coming out with us to celebrate?” MacIntyre asks me in the locker room when I return from the postgame press conference. It’s the first one I’ve been asked to do this season, and at least I didn’t fuck that up, unlike the rest of my life.
Tonight, we eked out a win with two goals in the third period. It was messy, and I definitely didn’t play my best. I’m trying to be happy we won, but right now I’m a jumble of emotions that focus entirely on Morgan instead of my job.
My lips press together into a line as I consider whether I’m better off going home or going out. I’m not sure I’ll be good company tonight, but I’m equally unsure if I want to be alone with my own thoughts.
I’m a fucking disaster. Seeing Morgan earlier today, and tonight at the game, has messed with my head in exactly the way I feared it would, but still wasn’t prepared for.
The only thing more painful than not seeing her for the past two weeks, was seeing her again and realizing that she’s moved on. Or that she’s trying to, at least.
“Not sure,” I tell him. “What’s the plan?”
“We’re headed to Dave’s.”
It’s a trendy piano bar that’s a short walk from the arena, which means it’ll be filled with Rebels fans. I don’t feel much like celebrating. “Nah, I think I’m going to pass tonight.”
“You sure?” he asks, a note of teasing in his tone. “Because I overheard that cute social media girl telling someone that’s where she’ll be tonight.”
My head snaps right as I focus my gaze on him. “What cute social media girl?” I grind out the words through a clenched jaw.
He turns and sits so he can put his shoes on. “The one that you’re always staring at.”
“I don’t know who you’re talking about.” The nonchalance in my tone is so forced that he looks up at me with a smirk, letting me know I’m entirely unbelievable.
“The curvy one, with big tits?” He says it so casually I want to fucking strangle him for noticing or daring to talk about her body like it’s there for his viewing pleasure.
The only thing that saves him is the fact that I’m still focused on his comment about me always staring at her.
Have I been that fucking obvious all along?
“Fucking grow up,” I grumble. “We don’t talk about our colleagues that way. Something you should have learned after you got that intern fired.”
“Oh, did she officially get fired?” His tone is careless, just like his actions were, and I know from Morgan that his behavior ruined Natalie’s job prospects here.
Which is probably why I reach down, grab the collar of his dress shirt, and twist it as I pull him up to standing.
The shock on his face hints at fear as he stares back at me.
“I don’t know for sure. But you ruined that girl’s internship and she may not graduate because of it, and that doesn’t seem to bother you one bit.
” It all tumbles out in a low growl. “And now you’re talking about another woman who works with the team like she’s a piece of meat.
That’s not how we operate here, so you need to be a better person or find a different club to skate for. ”
I push him back down onto the bench right as McCabe comes up behind me, putting a hand on my shoulder.
“Listen to your captains, Rookie,” McCabe says. When he glances over at me, I realize he’s including me. “You might have been a first-round draft pick, but if you don’t fix your fucking attitude, you aren’t going to last here.”
I’m not quite sure what I see flash across MacIntyre’s face as our captain takes him to task. It’s like humility mixed with defiance, and then he says, “Yeah, I’m sure you were both perfect angels when you first came into the NHL.”
McCabe and I glance at each other, before McCabe looks back at him and says, “You don’t have to be a perfect angel. Just don’t be such a douche.” Then my friend turns his attention back to me. “Get dressed, you’re coming out with us.”
I don’t argue because even though I don’t particularly want to see Morgan out on a date, the only thing worse would be sitting at home alone wondering how the date is going. Some self-sabotaging part of me needs to see for myself if she’s truly moved on, or if she’s just trying to.
Even though I’m the one who told her I couldn’t do a relationship, I’m starting to think that moving on might be impossible for me.
“You going to tell me what’s going on there?” McCabe asks, following my gaze across the bar to where Morgan’s sitting at a pub table with the same guy she had a drink with in Dallas.
“Looks like Morgan’s on a date,” I say with a shrug. I’m trying damn hard to sound unaffected by this, but my jaw is so tense the words sound strained.
“A second date, by the looks of it.” McCabe obviously recognizes the guy from Dallas, too.
“Who knows?” Another shrug, this one smaller because my shoulders have tensed up from the way his knee just brushed hers beneath the high-top table.
“Still trying to convince me that you don’t have feelings for her?” The amusement in his tone makes me want to take out all my frustration on him, since I can’t do anything about that asshole sitting across from Morgan.
But I don’t, because Morgan’s words keep running through my head: Grow up and be a good influence on yourself. Maybe acknowledging that it’s my fault she’s on a date in the first place, because I couldn’t be a fucking adult and admit I have feelings for her, would be a good place to start?
“Wouldn’t matter if I did,” I say. “Her dad’s my agent, and he made it very clear that I was to stay away from her.”
“Interesting.” McCabe takes a sip of his beer, and his gaze moves past me. His lips curve up into the smallest of smiles, letting me know, without having to look for myself, that he’s just seen AJ.
A part of me wants what they have. That trust, the steady confidence in their relationship, the professional respect that’s morphed into something much deeper.
The rest of me is terrified of having that, and losing it.
I didn’t realize how fucking scared I was of being hurt, until I finally allowed someone in.
Almost from the minute Morgan was in my life, I knew the potential was there for her to be the one.
The more time I spent with her, the more those suspicions were confirmed.
I miss her like hell and I know I’m an idiot for letting her go.
But I can’t shake the genuine fear that if I put my whole heart and my whole self into a relationship with her, I’ll never get over it if it ends.
Then again, how would that be any different than the way I gave her all the emotional support she was looking for in a relationship, before ripping it away from her?
It feels like all I did was hurt us both in a quest to protect myself. Fuck, I’ve made a mess of things. The worst part is, I want to fix it, but I don’t know how.
“You know,” McCabe continues. “There are other agents in this business.”
“I’ve been with Carson for my entire career,” I remind him. “You don’t leave your agent in a contract year . . .” Even if you’re in love with his daughter.
Oh shit, that’s it, isn’t it? I’m in love with her. And yet I just hurt her way more than that douche, Carter, ever did.
“I got a new agent in June,” he says. That would have been during the playoffs, right before his free agency period began. Which means his stellar new contract wasn’t negotiated by Trevor, his agent last I knew.
“You did?”
“Yeah, Trevor was fucking me over. So I talked to Jameson Flynn, and he got me the best contract I’ve ever had. If you do have feelings for Morgan, and you worry they will impact your professional relationship with Carson, maybe you should talk to Jameson too.”
“Leaving Carson without giving him a chance to be okay with this feels wrong.”
“So you do have feelings for her.” It’s a confirmation, not a question.
“I don’t know.”
“Of course you do. And the sooner you deal with whatever’s holding you back, the better. If you want to be with Morgan, and Carson is what’s holding you back, why don’t you go talk to him about it? If he’s a dick about it, which, knowing him, you should probably expect, then reach out to Jameson.”
“It’s hard to imagine moving forward with Morgan if her dad is staunchly opposed to it. They’re pretty close.”
“I bet he’d come around eventually, if he saw that you were good for each other. In the meantime, I could put in a good word for you with Jameson.”
I cock my head slightly, surprised by his offer. “You’d do that, after I ghosted you all last year?”
“You had shit going on, and so did I.” He pauses, then adds, “I think we both came back as better people this year.”
I cough out a laugh, thinking about how different we both are now, compared to two seasons ago. “I don’t know,” I say, drawing out the words slowly. “You’re still kind of surly.”
“And you’re still kind of an asshole. But less so .
. . when she’s around,” he nods his chin toward Morgan right as her date stands and comes around the table to her chair.
He raises his hand, slipping it along her neck, and I notice the way her spine stiffens slightly.
But I don’t think he notices, because he’s leaning in to kiss her.
I can’t quite tell from where I’m standing, but I think she tucks her chin so his lips meet her forehead, and then I have to look away because my entire body floods with rage at the sight of someone else touching her. The only forehead kisses she should be getting are from me.
“Go get your girl,” McCabe says. When I look back, the guy is headed toward the door and Morgan is finishing her drink. “Before it’s too late.”
My stomach flips over as I stalk across the bar toward her.
By the time I get to the table, she’s gotten her jacket on and is slinging her bag over her shoulder.
She startles when I appear at her side, and that’s when I realize that while I’ve been entirely focused on her for the last hour, she wasn’t even aware I was here.
Her lips twist into a grimace, and she narrows her big blue eyes before she says, “Aidan, please stop showing up where you know I’ll be.”
“Then stop trying to make me jealous.”
“I’m not trying to make you jealous!” she says, then lets out a frustrated sigh.
Her full lips part as she lets out a long breath.
I immediately want to pull her into my arms, press a kiss to the crown of her head, and promise her things I haven’t promised anyone in a decade. “I’m trying to move on.”
Her words are a sharp slap that bring me back to reality. And the reality is, I hurt her to protect myself.
“Well, stop that, too,” I demand, even though I have no business telling her what to do.
“You don’t get to tell me that you can’t be with me, and then insist I not date other people.”
I step closer to her. “He’s not good enough for you.” I don’t know whether that’s true or not. Maybe he’s a great guy . . . but he’s not me.
“Yeah? Then who is, Aidan?” The anguish in her voice as she looks up at me has a lump in my throat that grows so large I can’t speak. “See? You can’t even say it’s you. So if you aren’t the one for me, let me find someone who is. Or at least, someone who is not afraid of their own feelings.”
She pushes me back with one hand on my chest, then turns and storms toward the door. I go to follow her, but the press of the crowd slows me and by the time I make it to the street, she’s nowhere to be seen.
I’m tempted to hop in a cab and show up at her place, but she deserves more than me being reactive and jealous, demanding that she not see other people.
She deserves for me to finally show up for her, ready for a relationship. And there’s no way I can do that without settling a few other things in my life.
Aidan
Are you around tomorrow? Can we chat?
Max
Is everything okay? You can call me now if you need to.
I glance at the clock at the top of my phone screen. It’s just about midnight, and I’m tired and unsure of what I want to say at this point.
Aidan
Nothing’s wrong, I just need some advice. It can wait until tomorrow.
Max
Okay. I’m on call at the hospital tomorrow night, so I’ll probably try to get some sleep in the afternoon. Call me in the morning?
Aidan
Will do.
Then I set off on foot. My mind is reeling too much for me to sleep, and I’m hoping that the walk home will help clear my head. I don’t even know what I want to talk to Max about, specifically.
If it was just about what happened with Hayley and how to move past that, I’d call Liam. He was there for me throughout that ordeal, and given what happened with Kelsey and his belief that love is still worth it even after he lost her, he might have some good advice.
I know my issues are deeper than that one relationship. That was just the cherry on top of a shit sundae of losing people I loved, and Max will understand that better than anyone.
So I spend the thirty-minute walk thinking carefully about what I need to do to untangle my own complicated feelings about relationships and love, and hoping beyond hope that I haven’t wrecked things with Morgan too badly to repair them.