6. Carter
Chapter 6
Carter
I slam my stick against the puck, but it’s a lazy wrist shot veering wide of the net. Sweat drips down my temples while frustration boils inside me. The practice has become a blur of drills and plays. However, I’m just going through the motions, still angry at the memory of waking up alone, the sheets cold, the regret that I didn’t get her name a rock in my gut.
Plus, there’s a hammer in my head that won’t quit.
“Damn it, Hayes!” Finn shouts from across the ice, shaking his head. But I barely register his voice as I circle back for another go, missing the passion that usually fuels my game. And it was clearly missing during the last couple of games.
“Pick up your feet, Carter!” Coach barks, but it’s like he’s speaking underwater. Everything’s muffled except the echo of her laughter, her warmth against my skin. Not knowing who she was is driving me insane. I should’ve asked for a name, a number—anything. Rookie mistake.
“Hey,” Mike’s voice cuts through the haze as he skates next to me, his brow furrowed. “What’s crawled up your ass? Didn’t get any last night?”
“Fuck off,” I mutter. The last thing I need is his brand of advice.
“Doesn’t look like nothing.” He glides alongside me, easily keeping pace. “You’re dragging ass out there. It’s not like you.”
“Mind your own business, Matthews.” My tone is sharper than I intend, but I’m in no mood for his probing or mockery.
“Whoa, touchy. This is about a chick, isn’t it?” His derisive question feels like a slap. And he’s the last person I’d confide in.
“Drop it,” I snap, picking up speed and leaving him behind. I hear his callous chuckle fading as I push myself harder to outskate my thoughts.
“Whatever or whoever it is, you better get your head back in the game,” he calls after me, but I ignore him, focusing on the sting of cold air against my flushed cheeks.
Practice can’t end soon enough.
It’s probably good that we have a couple of days off before the next game. We just got back from a road trip—a shit show—and Coach decided to penalize us with early practice and drills before giving us time to get our heads on straight.
I need the break.
I’m at the edge of the rink, hunched over my stick, trying to catch my breath and clear my head when Ryan Felton, one of our forwards and a good friend, skates over, spraying me with shards of ice as he comes to a sharp stop. His helmet is cocked back, the chin strap loose.
“Man, you’ve got that look,” he says, nudging my shoulder with his. “The ‘I got tangled up in some woman and now I can’t think straight’ look.”
“Leave it be, Ryan.” My response comes out more as a growl than words.
“Am I wrong?” He raises an eyebrow, challenging me.
“Doesn’t matter.” I straighten, feeling the weight of everyone’s stares. I don’t usually let things bother me out on the ice.
“I heard you and Mia split.”
“This isn’t about Mia.”
His brows fly up to meet his sweaty hairline. “Someone new?”
“Doesn’t matter. I don’t know who she is anyway.”
Knowing when to quit, he shakes his head in sympathy before taking off down the ice.
“Hey, Hayes!” Mike bellows from behind the bench, his voice cutting across the rink. I slowly turn to face him, my skates carving into the ice. “You planning to join us in this dimension anytime soon?”
“Ike, not now.” I skate past him, but he grabs my arm, halting me mid-motion, almost putting me on my ass.
“Listen, Carter,” he says, his grip tight on my arm, his voice low. “Get over it and move on. Women aren’t worth the grief, especially for players like us. We can have our pick of pussy any night of the week.”
“You’re disgusting,” I retort, yanking my arm away. “Not everyone treats relationships like you do, jackass.” Short-term and throw away.
He laughs, a deep, throaty sound that irks the fuck out of me. “A one-night stand isn’t a relationship, Hayes. You’ll do well to remember that. Happier too.”
“Whatever.” I push off and glide across the ice, his cruel laughter echoing behind me.
As practice ends, I know Mike’s probably right. But there’s something about Kitty that keeps her image skating circles in my mind, no matter how hard I try to check it into the boards or my teammates.
A couple of hours later, I’m slamming my locker door shut when Mike strides over, that annoying-as-fuck grin plastered on his face, again. “You still sulking? Come on, man, let’s hit the town tonight. Forget about her.”
“Easy for you to say,” I snap. “Chris Ike, you cycle through women faster than hockey tape.”
He snorts, leaning against the lockers with an amused tilt of his lips. “And what’s wrong with enjoying variety? Trust me, the best is always yet to come.”
Frustration bubbles up inside me. “What if it already came and went, and you didn’t even realize it?”
He gives me a strange, almost confused look, like the thought never occurred to him. “Regret’s not part of my game.” He pushes off the locker. “But if you’re so hung up on finding your soul mate, do it on your own time. Not when it’s screwing with the team’s mojo.”
Laughter erupts from a couple of the other guys close enough to overhear our exchange. Ryan chimes in, “Yeah, Ike never regrets the ladies. He only regrets getting caught!”
Mike shrugs, the laughter rolling off him like water off a duck’s back. “Guilty as charged. But hey, who can blame a guy for sampling the goods when so many are offered for free?”
“Charming,” I mutter, shoving past him.
“Hey, Carter, wait up,” Finn calls out, jogging to catch up. “I’m heading to Kat’s place tonight She’s having a party for her friend’s birthday. Why don’t you come with me? She doesn’t know I’m back in town, so I thought I’d surprise her.”
Kat’s the girl Finn met at the bar when I met Kitty. Hold up. Will she be at this party?
“Party’s not really my scene right now,” I say while I think this through. She snuck out without saying goodbye. If she is there, how awkward will that be if I show up? Do I want to put myself through that? But Finn’s already shaking his head, not taking no for an answer.
“Come on, don’t be a hermit again. It’ll be good for you.”
The thought of another night staring at hockey replays is as appealing as washing my lucky socks. Maybe some noise and chaos will drown out my thoughts. And I’m sure Kat has other friends. Maybe Kitty won’t be there. Is it worse that maybe she will?
“Fine,” I relent because I can’t not go and potentially miss my opportunity to see her again.
“Great. It’s settled then.” He grins, slapping my back. “I have a couple of stops to make before we head back to the house.”
He’s probably stopping at the drugstore to stock up on condoms.
“Good luck, Romeo,” Mike calls out, a wicked gleam in his eye.
“Shut up, Mike,” I retort without heat, already dreading and craving the night’s distraction. If she’s there, what do I say? If she’s not, what do I do?
“Maybe you’ll find your dream girl tonight, Carter,” he says, leaning casually against the locker room wall.
I roll my eyes at him.
“Hey, you’re not invited to this shindig, Matthews,” Finn adds, giving Mike a pointed look.
Mike snorts, brushing off Finn’s comment like dandruff from his shoulder. “I’ve got other plans tonight. Always moving forward, never back,” he says, pulling out his phone and flashing a wicked grin,
“Words to live by,” I mutter, though a part of me wonders if I’m just trying to convince myself.
Later that night, I change into my best non-hockey gear: dark jeans and a black button-down shirt. I rake a hand through my hair, slicking it back with some product, and dap on my cologne—just enough to be noticed but not too much to suffocate anyone. Grabbing my keys and phone, I head downstairs to wait for Finn. When he’s ready, we call an Uber and head outside to wait. I convinced Finn to stop and grab something for the birthday girl since it’s rude to show up empty-handed. We settled on a bottle of wine and some flowers.
When I realize we’re heading to the same bar, my stomach pitches, but I follow Finn past the long lineup to the bouncer near at the door, where he slips the guy a few bucks, and we’re allowed inside.
The first thing that hits me is the bass—it's pounding, making the floor vibrate beneath my feet. The light show is blinding, and the music is so loud, it feels alive, a pulsing entity that fills every corner of the room.
Finn’s already grinning, his eyes scanning the crowd. The place is packed, bodies swaying and moving in time to the beat, a mass of energy and excitement. The air is thick with mingling scents of perfume, alcohol, and the sharp tang of sweat. We weave our way through the throng, squeezing past groups of partygoers, dodging raised arms and sloshing drinks.
“Over there.” Finn points to a cluster of women in tiaras. I can barely hear him, but I nod anyway and follow.
“Great,” I mutter, steeling myself for the forced pleasantries. But as we draw closer, the world drops away, and my feet might as well be encased in cement. There, in the middle of the tiara wearing group, dressed in a pretty white dress with a hot-pink sash that proclaims her the birthday girl, laughing and flipping her long blonde hair back, is Kitty. And her heart-shaped face is lit up with a smile that punches me right in the gut.
“Shit,” escapes my lips before I can stop it.
Finn glances at me over his shoulder. “Did you say something?”
“Nope,” I lie, but my racing heart calls bullshit.
The woman who’s been haunting my every thought since she slipped out of my hotel bed, leaving nothing but my nickname for her behind, grins ear to ear while she listens to one of her friends.
“Here goes nothing,” I say under my breath, with a plastered-on smile that feels more like a grimace as we approach.
“Surprise,” Finn booms, and the girls turn, their cheers of delight cutting through the music.
“You’re here!”
The red-headed girl I recognize squeals and launches herself at Finn. They exchange a heated kiss before he stops and looks at the others. “Happy Birthday, Bree.”
But Kitty is staring at me . She startles and turns to Finn. “Thank you.”
Bree? I once heard Mike refer to his ex Brielle as Bree. Is Kitty Bree? Mike’s ex ?
Finn shoulder bumps me. “Give her the wine and flowers, bro.”
“Oh, yeah. Um, here,” I manage, extending both toward her. “Happy birthday.”
“Thank you.” Her big blue eyes meet mine, but I can’t make out what I’m seeing in her expression. Her smile has fallen away. Her eyes are wide with shock. Is that guilt? Annoyance? Maybe I shouldn’t have come. But then she blinks and it’s like she wiped the previous look away. Now she gazes at me with a look of acceptance, or is it regret?
“Hi, Carter. I’m Bree.” Her voice rings with a melody that zings straight to my core, and I realize something—she knows my name. Has she always known my name? Is that why she left like she did?
“Hi, Bree,” I reply, hoping my casual tone masks the chaos she’s stirring inside me.
“Small world,” she muses, a knowing glint in her eye. Damn, she’s even more stunning than I remember.
“Very small,” I agree, the words thick in my throat. Finn’s oblivious to the tension, clapping me on the back.
“Well, can we join party?” he asks.
“Sure,” Bree’s smile is shaky, but her gaze lingers on me, probing, questioning.
“We can lea—” I start, but the rest of my sentence is drowned out when another blonde interrupts us, juggling a tray full of shots.
“It’s time to celebrate the birthday girl,” she announces with a soft southern accent.
She encourages us to all grab a glass. I’m hoping the clear liquid promises either sweet oblivion or some clarity because I’m not sure which side of the fence I’m sitting on right now,
“Cheers,” I echo, my eyes locked with Bree’s. We knock back the shots, the burn a welcome pain compared to the turmoil brewing inside me.
The music shifts to something less pounding.
“Want to dance?” Bree asks, a dare in her expression, as I sift through the sense of déjà vu.
“Sure, why not,” I say, accepting the challenge.
As we step away from the others, it’s clear there’s no running from this. Not when I get to experience the heat of her body against mine again.
I know I’m dancing with fire. But, God help me, I don’t want to stop.