Chapter 51
51
RONAN
W hen the Saints lost last night’s match against Dallas, it felt like my whole world screeched to a grinding halt.
In one gut-churning moment, everything changed.
No more waking up at the crack of dawn for team meetings. No more listening to motivational tapes on the drive to game day in Sin Valley. No more away games. No more sleepy rides back home after days on the road.
All of it is done.
I’ve only had one night to sleep on this new reality, but in most ways, I’ve come to accept it. I am okay with hockey being over for the season. It happens. Most of the league was already done anyway. The Saints were fortunate to make it this far, especially after such a rough start.
What I’m not okay with is this feeling that everything is suddenly over for Nicky and me.
She’s been living in my guesthouse for months now. Heck, I’ve practically been living in my guesthouse for about half as long, too, just to be near her.
If the season is over, then this babysitting gig of hers is over, too. And if she has to leave, we haven’t had a single discussion about what lies ahead.
What’s that mean for us?
Does she still consider me her practice boyfriend? Is she going back to having lousy placeholders? Or is she ready to upgrade to the kind of relationship she deserves? Either way, I still get left behind.
A girl like her deserves more. A girl like her could get the real thing in a heartbeat. But for some dumb reason, I’m still not convinced Nicky realizes how much she’s really worth.
She couldn’t be more blind.
Nicky is quiet the whole drive into Sin Valley today. We have a meeting with the higher-ups this morning, and I almost wonder if she’s feeling as nervous as I am.
Or maybe she’s just busy picturing her new life back in Honey Hill. Without me.
Yup. Probably that one.
I’m lost inside my head by the time we make it to the Saints’ headquarters. The conference room is packed. There’s grumpy Darius, who’s actually been less of a stick up my ass since our season turned around. Then there’s Nicky’s brother, Cash, along with my sports agent, the Saints’s general manager, and the head of PR. In short, everyone who was present on that fateful day when they assigned Nicky to be by my side is here in this conference room.
That’s how I know she’s at least half the reason for this spur of the moment meeting.
When we step inside, Nicky takes a seat at the table. The seat furthest from me.She’s too fucking far away. In a room full of people, I feel lonely without her at my side.
I snap to attention when people start talking.
“That was one hell of a finish, Ronan.”
“Yeah, we couldn’t have been happier with how the season ended.”
“I’m proud of you, little brother. You really got your shit together.”
“Between the pet calendar, the volunteering, and the press interviews, the media has been loving you,” Florence adds and then she beams at Nicky. “You both did wonderfully. I don't know how you did it, Nicky, but you made magic happen.”
Oh, she made magic happen alright. I don’t even feel like the same man I was just a few short weeks ago.
They all look at her and she keeps her head down, cheeks reddening.“Th…thank you,” she stammers.
But when her eyes flick to mine, I try to send her a silent message, to remind her that she more than deserves to be seated at this table, that she deserves to bask in pride for what she’s helped the team accomplish. Instantly, she sits up taller, straightening her spine.
“Thank you,” she says, full of that confidence I love so much.
That’s my girl.
Except she’s not really mine. Is she? That’s the part that stings.
“And we’re on track to discuss Ronan’s contract bonuses after this, right gentlemen?” my agent asks the owners.
“You betcha,” the GM confirms.
My agent winks at me, but I find it hard to care. It’s just money.
And money doesn’t do a whole lot for me these days. If I’m not spending it on buying Nicky pretty new dresses or her ice skates or jewelry from the farmer’s market? Then, I just don’t have much use for it.
The team executives continue to express their pride in the season, talking about the Saints’ new standing in the league, positive fan perception, community positioning, and team sponsorships. Not to mention the astronomical ticket sales. At the beginning of the season, we barely had a handful of apathetic fans present in the stands at each game. By last night, the arena was packed to capacity and overflowing.
Yeah, the Saints may not have made it to the finals, but sitting here listening to the big wigs talk, I know they’re happy with how things turned out.
They’re over the fucking moon.
Me? Not so much.
I try to smile and show my appreciation for the flowery words they’re all spewing, but it's an understatement to say that I’m downtrodden. I’m starting to realize how annoying it is when people clearly expected you to fail, but are thrilled that you didn’t. In some ways it feels like Nicky is the only one who believed in me from the beginning. And now I’m about to lose her.
My shitty mood is the same one I woke up with. The one I’ve been in since after last night’s loss, when I realized I don’t fucking know what this means for me and the girl I’m probably, possibly, most definitely in love with.
When I shouldn’t be.
I tune out of the meeting until I hear her name spoken aloud.
“Nicky, I can send a moving company to help you move out of Ronan’s guesthouse,” Darius offers, pulling out his tablet. “What time works for you to–”
“No!” I blurt out, earning more than a few funny looks as heads turn my way in surprise. “I’ll help her,” I say simply
Darius eyeballs me suspiciously, slowly putting away his tablet. “Well. Okay, then…”
Shit, I’m losing my mind.
Now the Saints are rewarding her with her freedom once again. I’m guessing that Nicky is itching to leave so she can move to Honey Hill and buy her new house soon. She won’t need to stay in my lame little guesthouse anymore.
I really don’t want her to go.
I’m feeling desperate enough that I’m already considering acting up next season just so that Darius will send her back to me. But with my luck, they’d probably really send a dweeb with the bowtie to babysit me this time.
I’m out of ideas.
I’m out of ways to make her stay.
So now, I have to let her go.
If I thought the ride to the meeting was bad, the ride back to my place is even worse. Nicky types away on her phone the whole time, and I crank up the radio to bury the painful silence.
Once we’re back at the guesthouse, it doesn’t take long to help Nicky pack everything back into her suitcases and a few boxes. Then we carry her things out to the car the Saints loaned her.
To be honest, I try dragging it out as much as I can. I’m wishing I would have purchased her more stuff during her time here, just so that it would take longer to pack up her belongings. Aside from dumping her clothes out on the driveway, I’m out of options here.
Very few words are spoken.The comfort and ease we used to find in each other’s company seems to be long gone. Now, we’re awkwardly in each other’s way every few minutes, doing everything humanly possible to not touch or run into each other as we load up Nicky’s car.
It’s all just sad.
I’ve already completed three walk-throughs to make sure she didn’t leave a shoe under the bed, a book behind the couch, or her favorite travel mug in the dishwasher.
But there’s nothing.
And she knows it, too.
“So, this is it…” Nicky says after we hit another uncomfortable stretch of silence in the guesthouse living room.
I nod. “This is it.”
She makes a feeble attempt at a smile.“Having a babysitter wasn’t so bad after all, was it?”
My aching heart forces me to be honest. “Having you as a babysitter wasn’t so bad.”
Another beat of silence.
She steps forward for a hug, and I rush to embrace her, breathing in the scent of her fruity shampoo, melting into the softness of her curves.
I’d do anything to keep her in my arms a little longer.But a goodbye hug doesn’t feel right.This all feels wrong.
I open my mouth to just lay it all out in the open and tell her how I feel. But Nicky speaks first.
“Thanks for practicing with me, Ronan.” Her words come out softly. “Your future real girlfriend will be one lucky woman.”
My chest wrenches with pain. Fuck. She really is done with me. With us. With this.
I hug her tighter, burying my nose in the strands of her hair. “Your future real boyfriend will be the luckiest guy on the face of this earth, Nicky. Make sure you never let him forget that.”
Too soon, she lets go and steps back. “I should get going.”
Reluctantly, I walk her outside, standing miserably on the sidelines as she climbs into the driver’s side of her car.
“Nicky?” I call out, my voice cracking.
She looks over her shoulder. “Yeah?”
“We should hang out sometime.”
She hesitates. One second. Then two. “Yeah. Totally,” she finally says, but she doesn’t sound the least bit convincing.
It sounds a whole lot closer to ‘no thank you, asshole.’
“Bye, Hockey Guy.”
I give a little wave. “See you around, Peach.”
It feels like she slams my heart in the car door when she bangs it shut. Then she yanks it out and runs it over as she speeds away.
I stand there like a fool, watching her drive off.
There’s no hockey. No Nicky. No happiness.
I was on top of the world a week ago, but now there’s not a single thing that feels right in my life.