Chapter 13
Willa
Winter break came and went with me sitting on my ass with my ankle propped up.
I can’t wait to get this cast off. But most of all, I can’t wait to get back on the ice with my team. I need to get back out there.
The freshman that has been playing in my place is good. Too good. There’s a very high chance she’s staying on as a starter for the rest of the semester. I hate to admit it, but she’s been playing better than half the team.
I used to practice with her before I got injured. I trained with her for months and helped her with tips and advice. I saw her getting better and I never once thought she’d take my spot. I’m proud of how far she’s come during her first semester, but there’s still that part of me that hates knowing she can replace me. Or that she may actually be better than me.
My leg is bouncing, anticipating what the doctor will say. I just had an MRI done and they will determine if the cast is ready to come off. If not, I’ll have to wait another week.
“What’d they say?” Jocelyn pokes her head in the door.
The glass window opens out to the therapy room where I can see several players coming and going as they get checked out for the start of the new semester.
The injured players get this room that I’m in so they can close the blinds if needed.
“Nothing yet,” I tell her as she comes in and sits on the bench next to me. “They’re looking at the test results now.”
“Do you want me to wait?” She holds my hand from my lap where I was fidgeting.
“You don’t—” I stop when I see the doctor walking up the hall with our coach. “Yeah, if you can.”
Coach’s head is down. This doesn’t look good.
“Ms. Luger, can you wait for Ms. Tomlin outside?” he says once they come through the door to see me and Jocelyn waiting for my fate.
“Can she stay?” I hold her hand tight and pull her back toward me.
Coach eyes me for a few seconds, but then nods in agreement.
“Willa,” Dr. Stern, the resident doctor, pulls up his chair. “I asked Coach Higgins to come so we can discuss the results and the next steps. If you’d like, we can get your parents on the phone or video as well.”
This really isn’t good. He wouldn’t be offering to call my parents if it was good news. My heart slows in my chest and I’ve left my body. It’s not real. I’m floating above the room, watching it all play out.
“No, that’s ok.” I don’t even know how I make the words out, but getting my parents on the phone won’t change what the doctor is about to tell me. It’s not going to change these results.
My hand clutches onto Jocelyn as tight as I can to stop the shakes going through me.
It’s worse than I ever thought it could be. They told me different possibilities of what could happen and I didn’t want to believe it. With a sigh, the doctor holds down the report after reading it off without any emotion.
In layman’s terms; it hasn’t healed. The bones are still cracked and not fusing together correctly. Keywords I heard and know from his list of findings are; fractured, tear, multiple loose bodies, and deformity.
“You’re still in pain, aren’t you?” he asks, knowing I was lying before when I said I felt great.
The pain hasn’t gone away, but I’ve been doing everything to ignore it.
“The fracture is worse than we thought.” No. “It’s not aligned and not healing with the cast.” Why is this happening? “There are also a couple of bad tears in and around the Achilles tendon.”
He puts his hand on my thigh, seeing the streams of water running down my face.
“You need to have surgery.”
And there’s the kiss of death.
“We discussed the possibility, and I think the best option is the plate to fuse the bone. And we can use anchors and fiber tape to correct the tearing. We can wait, but that’ll just prolong—”
“How long?” My voice comes out with a gargled strain as Jocelyn rubs my back. “How long until I can skate again?”
Dr. Stern looks at Coach Higgins, then back at me.
“Earliest, I’d say, is three months. It’s likely that it’ll be longer until you’ll be able to skate well enough to play hockey.”
Coach Higgins shakes his head. Disappointment shoots out from him and slaps right into my gut. As much as I try, I can’t hold it back anymore as a loud sob bubbles up from my throat. My hands cover my face while I try to catch my breath.
This is it.
My season is over. My career is gone.
I had everything I worked so hard for and it’s all gone from one night. One horrible mistake I made to chase after a love I never had.
My life is over.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go?” Brianne asks again as she and the other Beta’s in my house get ready to leave for the first game back. Since most of the girls in our sorority are on the hockey team, the rest of the girls try to attend every game to cheer us on.
In return we try to make as many of the skating competitions as we can to support them.
I’m only five days out from surgery and although I’d love to go and cheer my team on, I’d be a burden and won’t last the entire game sitting in those seats. And who knows if I’m even still on the team. Coach hasn’t said a word yet.
“I’m sure. I need to keep this elevated and I can watch from home.” I motion to my ankle propped up on the couch.
“If you need anything, text us!”
One by one, they sadly wave goodbye.
“Have fun,” I call out as the door slams shut behind them.
They won’t say it, but I know they’re glad I’m not going. Besides my injury keeping me from normal activities, my mood hasn’t been up for a good time either.
TV on, water bottle on the side table, my leg propped up on three pillows, and I’m ready to scream and cry at the game. The local Drexton Hall channel has horrible commentary, but with the sound off I can make my own.
The puck drops, and… knock knock.
“Ugh!” I let out a loud groan. I just got comfortable and now I have to get up to answer the front door.
Who the hell would be coming over tonight?
“No one’s home,” I shout and hope they leave.
Knock… knock. This time it’s much slower.
I get up and hobble on one leg, not bothering with the crutches. I still can’t put pressure on it for a couple of days at least. Not until I start physical therapy, and they give the ok to walk on it with a boot.
“What the…?” I look out the window to see Carter standing on our porch. “Hi?” I question him as I open the door.
He holds up a big brown bag in front of him. “Tacos.”
“From that place we went to?” I grab it excitedly and open the bag with a big whiff. “Oh, it smells so good.”
“Did you eat dinner yet?” He follows me into the house and closes the door behind him.
“Technically, yes. But there is room for these babies.” It’s crack. I’m addicted to these tacos and I’m convinced there are drugs in them. There’s no way a taco can taste this good.
Carter takes my pillows and sets them up on the ottoman in front of me. He pulls a side table over and sits down with his Gatorade bottle.
“Did you get any for yourself?” I tease, seeing at least five wrapped tacos in the bag.
He takes the bag from me and splits them up. “There’s seven. First to finish gets the last one.”
“You’re on.” I accept his challenge and moan as I take the first bite. “Mmm. So good.”
“You have problems.” He shakes his head at me before pointing to the game with his mouth full. “Why are you torturing yourself with this crap?”
“I’m still on the team. I can’t be there, but I’d like to cheer them on.”
“Are they holding your spot?”
“No clue.” I swallow down the last of my first taco. Carter’s already halfway through his second, but slowing down. “I doubt it.”
“What has Coach said?” He eyes me, already knowing the answer.
“Absolutely nothing.”
“That fucking dick.” He throws the second half of his taco down, giving me time to catch up. “Savor it, I lost my appetite.”
“Oh, come on,” I groan, with pieces of taco flying out of my mouth. “Don’t quit! I have nothing else to live for. I need a victory over something. It won’t be a win if you quit.”
He laughs with a shake of his head and devours the second half in one big bite. Fuck.
Carter won, but he let me have half of the seventh taco anyway, since he wasn’t that hungry anymore.
Now that I stuffed my face in under thirty minutes, I have nothing but Carter’s company to distract me from the game. He insisted on turning the sound on, making it even worse.
“That wasn’t a slapshot,” I yell at the commentator. “Learn the terminology.”
“Relax, it’s a student.” Carter laughs. “He probably gives two shits about hockey.”
“Any idiot should know that.” I glare at the screen.
Jocelyn passes down the ice to Danielle. Danielle passes it, but it’s stolen away by the other team.
“No,” I groan when the other team gets a breakaway. “Get on her! Go! Skate dammit.”
She shoots and scores.
“Are you kidding me?” My eyes sting, feeling the punch at my gut. I would’ve had that one. Every goal against my team is a reminder of how I’m letting them down.
“Are you crying?” Carter looks at me with his bottle frozen at his lips.
“That wouldn’t have happened if I was there. I screwed up,” I sob, with snot coming out of my nose. “I let everyone down and now my team is suffering.”
“It was one goal.” Carter gets up and finds a napkin for me to wipe my face. “That’s it.” He goes back to my kitchen and looks through cabinets. Frantically swinging them open and closed to find whatever he’s looking for.
“What are you doing?” I try to turn to see, but have limited movement without twisting my ankle and losing the position I’m in.
“Found it.” He stands from behind the counter with a bottle of dark rum in his hand. “Is this all you have?”
“I don’t know,” I whine.
He comes over with the full bottle and two plastic cups.
“What are you doing?” I question him again. “I don’t feel like drinking. I’m depressed enough as it is.”
“I’m tired of watching you sulk on the most uncomfortable couch in the fucking world and torture yourself by insisting on rooting for a team that doesn’t even have your back.” He puts the bottle on the table with the cups. “At least we can have some fun.”
“The couch isn’t that uncomfortable,” I defend my old couch. It’s really old and the cushions are sunken in from overuse, but it’s still comfortable. “You don’t have to be here.” I roll my eyes and watch him fill up the two glasses. “I can’t drink it like that,” I complain, needing something more than straight rum.
He runs into the kitchen and comes back with an orange sliced in two, squeezing each one into the two glasses.
“It’s the best I could do. You guys have nothing in there besides water.”
I’m still not drinking it.
“Alright,” he claps and rubs his hands together, “the game is… Every time a play is missed that you would’ve made, we drink.”
“I’m not—” I start to refuse his game, but then Amber misses the pass, and the opposing team takes the puck out into the neutral zone. An easy pass anyone should have stopped. I would’ve stopped it.
I grab the cup and take a small sip.
“Cheers.” Carter raises his glass before taking his own sip. “Not bad.” He winces and motions to the bottle. “I hate this shit.”
“Then why are we drinking?”
“Because life sucks.” He taps his glass to mine in a toast and takes another sip. “New rule; drink every time Coach Higgins smiles.”
The camera pans and shows Coach smiling with a shake of his head. We both lift our glasses for a drink.
A second later, there’s a line change and Coach is smiling.
“Why is he smiling?” I yell at the screen.
Another line change and the right corner of his mouth lifts half way up.
“That was a smirk, not a smile.” I point crazily at the television.
Carter laughs at me and tips his glass to his mouth. “He’s always fucking smiling. It’s fake as shit.”
“I never realized it,” I say as they once again pan the camera up at the team to see Coach Higgins’ wide grin.
We’re losing by two goals. No one should be happy about that.
Finally, there’s a commercial break and our glasses are already half full.
I bring my leg up to stretch and massage my ankle like the doctor showed me when it cramps.
“Here,” Carter reaches out and I wearily pass my foot to him. I’d hesitate more if I didn’t just drink eight ounces of rum. “I broke my wrist once, and they showed me the same type of stretches.”
“How’d you break your wrist?” I ask while leaning back to give him better access to my ankle.
“I punched a statue,” he deadpans and focuses on the massage.
“Why?” I drag out my question, afraid of what the answer will be.
He shrugs. “I didn’t like its face.”
“You’re an ass.” I slap his arm and he smiles proudly. His hand smooths up my calf and back down, massaging the tight muscles, and I press my lips tightly closed to stifle my moan. “You’re good at this.”
“Give me your other leg. I bet walking on one leg is giving you a good muscle on the other one.”
He’s not wrong. My calf muscles are now freakishly uneven. I let out a soft grunt when he does the same massage.
“Vic never massaged your legs for you?” He glances up at me through the top of his eyes and thick lashes. Lashes any woman would yearn to have and do anything to recreate them for themselves.
“No,” I scoff. “I asked him to rub out a knot in my shoulder once and I was lucky he did it for two seconds.”
“What a great guy. I wonder why you ever let him go,” Carter teases sarcastically and I kick his thigh, making sure I get close to his balls. “Hey, watch the goods.”
“Don’t be a jerk.” I sneer at him.
He laughs, and I realize the alcohol we consumed is already giving him a buzz. I sit back and can’t help but to think of Vic. At the mere mention of his name, my mind drifts over memories of us just sitting around and watching TV. There aren”t many.
Most times we were together, there was a party somewhere. It was a party or a small gathering of his frat brothers. And there was always alcohol.
“What are you thinking about?” Carter nudges my good leg.
“Vic,” I answer, not even trying to hide it.
“I knew it,” he groans with his head back.
“He’s the only guy I’ve ever been with.” I spent over three years of my life with him. And he never once massaged or rubbed my back or legs. Isn’t that a thing couples do? Don’t they want to touch each other?
“Fuck, that sucks. I hope you used protection.” Carter gives me a sideways look. “You have no idea how much pussy that dick has been in.”
I take one of my pillows and throw it at Carter’s face. “Don’t be an asshole or you can leave. I hate that word.”
He laughs and places the pillow under my feet. “Dick?”
“No, pussy.” I cringe at its use. “It’s so vulgar and disgusting.”
“I’m just joking. Sorry.” He holds his hands up defensively. “Game’s back on.”
“Oh!” We both shout as the first face to show is Coach Higgins with his shit-eating grin.
We hit our cups together and each take another drink of many more to come.
“I’m almost empty,” I whine at the contents of my second cup. Carter only filled these halfway and the second period just ended.
“I think we’ve had enough.” He takes my cup and places it far enough away that I can’t reach it.
“Rub my feet again.” I plop my legs back onto his lap.
“You don’t have to be so demanding.” He takes my foot and rubs the knots out with his thumb. “Are you this bossy in bed?”
“Ew.” I kick Carter and take my legs off him.
He laughs and gets up to clean away our cups and the rest of our mess.
“This night didn’t turn out so bad. Maybe I’ll take up drinking.” He sits back down and rubs his eyes.
“Why? What’s so bad in your life?” I nudge him with my foot to massage it again. “You still get to play hockey.”
“Hockey isn’t everything.” He glares at me, but I just roll my eyes. That’s too easy for him to say. “I hate my dad.” He stares off at the commercial on the screen.
“He can’t be that bad,” I say while trying to reach for his arm, but he’s too far away, and I end up flapping it against the air.
Carter looks at me before lifting his shirt to show off a bruise forming on his side. “Got that one today from him.”
“What’d you do?” I gasp and sit up.
It looks terrible. Worse than what a single punch or slap could do.
“I wasn’t supposed to be home, but I forgot something and he was in a pissed off mood.” He shrugs it off as if it’s an everyday thing. Is it normal to get beaten by your father in his world?
“I meant,” I sigh and take a deep breath, “after. Did you hit him back?”
That is where my mind went. My first thought was if that’s what Carter got, how bad off is the guy that hit him?
“Not worth it anymore.” He pushes my legs off his and stretches out. “I’m too drunk, otherwise I’d go out to find myself a good fuck to take my mind off it.”
“I’m sorry—”
“I don’t want your pity,” he cuts me off. “It’s been like this for years and pity doesn’t change anything. At least he’s not hurting my mom. That’s all I care about. I’ll help you get up to your room.”
He cleaned everything up and turned the TV off before lifting me into his arms.
“I don’t need you to carry me,” I say, grabbing my crutches before we go.
“I know, but you’re drunk, and I’d rather you not fall down the stairs tonight and break your other ankle.” He grunts at the steps, but doesn’t seem to struggle after the first one.
“Do you have sex with women to keep yourself from fighting him back?” I ask, registering something he said.
“I fuck women to release tension and stress.” His mouth turns up, but it doesn’t reach his sad eyes.
“You’re really strong.” I grab his arm and give it a good squeeze to distract myself from staring at his sorrowful russet eyes. I get a whiff of his shampoo as I clutch tighter. “And you smell good.”
“You’re really light.” He gives me a bounce in his arms to prove it. “And you smell like tacos.”
“Jerk.” I slap his shoulder, making him grunt.
“I didn’t say it was bad. I like tacos.” He places me on the bed once I direct him to my room. Running his nose up my neck, he dramatically breathes in. “Mmm, beefy. Almost good enough to eat.”
My thighs clench together as a rush of butterflies shoots straight down to my core. His husky voice grazed a sensitive part of my skin that hasn’t been touched in a very long time. I can’t remember the last time Vic nuzzled into me. Toward the end, it was always a quick fuck just to get off.
“Need anything else?” Carter stands, looking around the room.
“I’ve been thinking.” I haven’t, but the thought just came to me and I’m going with it. “We don’t have feelings for each other. I mean, you’re my friend, but I don’t find you attractive or have a crush on you or anything.”
It’s not completely a lie. Anyone with eyes can see how attractive Carter is.
Those deep dark eyes over his sharp cheekbones and chiseled jaw under that short scruff he’s growing in. He rakes his hand through the short strands of his dark brown hair at the tip of his head, and his tattooed bicep bulges against the sleeve of his shirt.
“Where are you going with this?” He asks and places his hands on his tapered waist.
“Well, I…” If I don’t just say it, I’ll never get it out. “Have sex with me.”
“What?” He coughs out a laugh.
“You want to take some aggression out, right?”
It’s the perfect option. He can get his tension out and I can have sex with someone other than Vic. Win-win.
“Wills…” He shakes his head. “You”re drunk.”
“I’m not that bad.” It’s not like I’m puking. I’m still coherent. “I don’t want Vic to be the one and only anymore.”
It hits me like a freight train. I’m over him.
I am so over Vic and this, having sex with another guy, this would be the nail on the coffin. It’s the shootout goal to end the game. I need this.
Carter leans over me, his dark eyes with the soft red tint stare me down.
“That is a bad idea. Goodnight, Willa.” He leans in to kiss my cheek, but I turn my face and clutch his shirt to pull him in.
Locking our lips together and sucking his tongue out of his mouth. His hand falls to my thigh, brushing his palm over it to reach around and lift me up. Moving me further into the bed while crawling over me.
“This is a really bad idea,” he groans and backs away.
“Do it. Fuck me, Carter.” I order him, but there’s still a hesitation. “Please. I need this.”
He shakes his head while biting his lip.
“If it’s not you, it’ll be some random guy that I’ll regret.”
He backs away. I’m losing him.
“Chris Hines gave me his number the other day.”
“What?” He freezes in place, hovering over me.
“Hines. We have a class together and he was flirting, or at least I think he was, but I know he sleeps around a lot.” I have no intention of calling or texting Chris Hines. I know his reputation, and Luca has told me stories.
But something I said hit a nerve.
“I guess he’ll be my next option.”
“Fuck that.” Carter whips his shirt over his head, revealing the hard muscles scattered with random tattoos over his pecs and a couple on his sides. “You’re not having sex with Chris Hines.”
“Ok,” I nod before Carter kisses me.
“Delete his fucking number from your phone.” He growls and kisses me again. Smacking our lips together as I keep agreeing with my head bobbing up and down.
He pulls away, hesitating to touch me. My hands move over each one of his tattoos. Scratching my nails over the smooth ink as Carter’s breath deepens.
“Fuck it.” He closes his eyes with a deep grunt and smashes his lips back into mine. Lowering down on me as I wrap my legs around and grind my hips up to rub against him before he changes his mind.
His dick pushes out from his sweatpants against my leggings as I keep grinding.
Biting my lip, he pulls away and pushes hard against me. With a gasp, I fall back down against the bed.
I scramble up, afraid he’s going to leave until I feel him tugging my leggings off with a hard pull. He stands and drops his pants to the floor.
“That’s a lot bigger than Vic’s.” My eyes bug out of my head, staring at Carter’s very long thick penis pointing up at me.
No wonder he’s so damn cocky. If I had a dick like that in my pants, I’d be full of myself, too. Jesus, in the next few minutes, I’ll be full of that thing.
“Are you sure you’re up for this?” He cocks his head to the side and strokes the huge weapon he’s been hiding between his legs.
Shallow vagina or not, I’m ready to get Vic fucked out of my system.
I whip my shirt off in response and take another good look at Carter’s hand stroking himself. I am so ready for this.
Fuck Vic and his tiny penis!
Carter’s lips tick up as I reach back and undo my bra. He puffs out a breath, taking me in.
“Are you gonna leave your socks on?” He teases with a sly grin.
I take my socks off and throw them at his face. He dodges them without stopping his slow jerking motion.
“Enough foreplay.” I sink back into my bed and open my legs wide. “Stick that thing in me.”
“Protection first, boss?” He bends down and comes back up with a condom.
I glare at him to show my annoyance. I’m not that stupid, and have never let Vic stick his dick inside me without one either. I wouldn’t start with Carter.
Once the condom is on, he crawls back over me.
“Ready?”
I nod as he lines himself up.
“Oh! That’s big,” I yelp in a panic as just the tip of his cock stretches me out. “Too big.”
“This, is why we have foreplay.” He reaches down between my legs and massages my clit. Rubbing circles around it before putting pressure against my slit. “Relax your muscles and I’ll get us there.”
Taking a deep breath, I relax into the mattress.
Letting Carter touch me is less awkward than I thought it’d be.
“Oh, that feels good,” I moan as he softly caresses me. His pace gradually quickens into quick pulses that send shocks through my nerves. “Oh, god.” I moan with my head back when he sticks his fingers in, stretching me out to get it ready for him.
“Now you’re ready.” Carter grunts and slides himself in.
It doesn’t hurt this time, and he gently fills me up, going inch by inch to make sure I don’t feel any pain while still rubbing my clit.
Our eyes meet when he bottoms out. His dark hues gleam for that one second I see them. But it’s quick before we both look away.
This isn’t about having a connection. It’s a primal need for two people to get closure. I need closure from Vic and Carter needs closure from the tension with his family.
“Fuck, it feels so good.” He moans and forces the words out. He pulls out and thrusts in with little to no emotion. “Yeah, does that feel good, baby?”
I don’t know who he thinks he’s talking to, but I won’t stand for his basic moves. I am not his one-night stand and I deserve more.
With all my strength, I push him back and roll him onto the mattress. I straddle myself over him while he watches me, stunned with his arms out, not knowing what to do.
“I am your friend, and I deserve more respect than that,” I tell him as I stroke his penis to be hard once again. It started going a little limp when he distanced himself from me.
“Oh, fuck.” His eyes roll back into his head as he bites his lip. His hands shoot out to my hips as I keep jerking him off. “I’d rather come in your pussy than in your hand,” he warns me to stop with his lightly tan skin turning red as he struggles to hold it in.
“Don’t say that word.” I slap his face with a sharp sting across his cheek. “Oh!” My hands cover my mouth, shocked at what I‘ve done. “I’m sorry.”
He clicks his jaw and faces me. His eyes blackened out as he looks up. “Do it again.”
I hesitate but slap his other cheek, softer this time.
“Harder, Willa.” He lifts my hips and fills me up. Impaling me onto his cock.
I slap him again, still not as hard as the first time.
“Harder. And grind that fucking pussy while you’re at it.”
I slap him harder across the face. He grins, getting the pain he wanted.
Leaning over to gain leverage, I thrust and clench my walls around him as tight as I can.
“I hate that word,” I breathe out just as he grabs my face and smashes his lips onto mine.
Our tongues wrestle against each other as I keep thrusting and grinding. It’s messy and rough, but fuck, I think it’s the best sex I’ve ever had. And that’s a horrible thought. Carter and I don’t have the connection that Vic and I had. Or were supposed to have.
Three years wasted.
Carter lifts his hips, stilling inside me as he fills the condom up. He reaches up and pinches my nipple as I come, screaming out in gratitude for the huge monster dick attached to this cocky man.
I collapse on top of him, and rest my eyes. Lying here panting against each other in a haze of orgasms and rum.