Chapter 22 Cole
COLE
“Your girl is a bad influence,” I mutter as I swipe through Casey’s stories of her and Freya’s night out so far.
“Tell me something I don’t know,” he counters. “I’m pretty sure Freya can hold her own, though. She lived in Vegas for a few years. She can probably out-party all of us.”
“I’m not sure she’s that kind of girl anymore.”
“What you’re looking at would suggest otherwise.”
I mumble a response as I continue swiping.
I can’t lie; I’m majorly regretting telling Freya to wear the green dress. She looks incredible, and I’m in an entirely different fucking state. There is no way she doesn’t have guys trying to chat her up every three seconds.
Deep down, though, I know it was the only option. She might have been questioning the dress, but I bet she feels amazing right now. She needs a few guys to chat her up—as much as I hate the idea of it—to give her confidence a much-needed boost.
She seems to think she’s a lesser version of herself now, and I need to prove to her that she’s not.
Her heart may be battered and bruised. But she’s still the same person she’s always been. She just needs to put the past where it belongs and embrace the life she has now. And as I stare at a photo of her with her head thrown back laughing, I think she’s just about figuring it out.
“Why are you staring at your new chef quite so intently, anyway?” Kodie teases beside me.
“I was worried about her,” I confess.
“I’m not sure you need to be. She looks like she’s coping just fine.”
“She’s…”
Kodie pats my leg and laughs as if he’s heard some unspoken joke.
“You’re so fucked.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” It makes him laugh even harder.
“Just you wait.”
I like Casey’s stories before forcing myself to put my cell back into my pocket and focus on celebrating with the guys. Tonight might have been down to the wire, but it was a damn good game. One I wasn’t sure we were going to win for a moment there.
I let in two goals, which is a kicker after the way I’ve been playing recently. But it is what it is. I can’t allow it to fuck up my focus moving forward.
I reach for my beer and swallow a couple of mouthfuls, drowning out the bitter disappointment over my performance tonight so I can focus on what’s most important. Our W.
Just like Casey and Freya, the guys and I hit up a local club, but I cut myself off after my third drink. We’re flying back early tomorrow, and I’m too fucking old to travel with a hangover— something that many of the others don’t seem to give a shit about.
“Hey, it’s our legend of a tendy,” Monroe slurs as he stumbles over.
“Hey, it’s our wasted rookie,” Linc teases in return.
“Oh, Storm’s here, too.” Monroe looks at Linc, but he’s so gone that he may as well be looking straight through him.
“Jesus,” Rett mutters.
“Oh, don’t you look at me like that, Everett Donnelly,” Monroe chastises. “I’ve seen more than a few photos of you on a night out. This,” he says, gesturing to himself, “is nothing. I’m just enjoying myself. We won, boys. We’re top of the motherfucking conference.”
Kodie and I share a look before he nods and pushes to his feet. I do the same.
“We’re going to take you home and tuck you in,” I say, prying the beer from Monroe’s hand and placing it on the table.
“But the night is still young,” he complains.
“Thankfully, so are you, so this shouldn’t hurt too much in the morning,” Kodie teases as he throws his arm around Monroe’s shoulders and steers him toward the exit.
“If you see Killer, tell him I left,” I say to Rett.
“Last time I saw him, he was dry-fucking some bunny on the dance floor.”
“Color me shocked,” I mutter. “Why aren’t you doing the same thing?”
“Give me time,” he says with a wink before I turn to catch up with Kodie and Monroe.
“If you’re going to vomit, do it now,” Kodie instructs as an Uber pulls up outside the club.
“I’m fine,” Monroe insists.
“If you spew, we’re giving the driver your credit card.”
“I’m not gonna spew.”
“Uh-huh,” Kodie mutters as he shoves Monroe into the back of the car.
The driver turns to look, and he’s about to argue about his drunken passenger until realization spreads across his face.
“Holy shit,” he gasps. “Great game tonight.”
“Thanks, man,” I say as I pile in. “We promise he’ll be good. And if he’s not, he’ll pay for it.”
The guy understandably hesitates. No one wants a car that stinks of vomit.
“Seriously?” Kodie gasps, making me look over.
I bark out a laugh at the sight of Monroe resting on Kodie’s shoulder, fast asleep and drooling.
“Aw, look. Big D got himself a new baby to look after,” I tease as I pull my cell out and snap a photo.
“You can fuck right off.”
I snigger as Kodie glares at Monroe. At no point does he try to wake him or move him, though. Underneath Kodie’s grumpy exterior is a heart of gold.
“Marilyn, wake the fuck up,” he finally demands as we pull up outside our hotel.
“I’ll be there in a minute, Dad,” Monroe mumbles.
“Oh, for the love of God,” Kodie grunts before he drags Monroe out of the car.
“Hey, hey, what are you doing?” Monroe complains as he suddenly wakes up.
“Thanks, man. Appreciate it,” I say to the driver, slipping him a hefty tip.
Monroe is slumped in the back corner of the elevator by the time I join them.
“I love you guys,” he slurs as we climb through the building. “You’re like my brothers.”
Kodie and I share a look.
“We love you too, Marilyn,” I mutter.
“Good. We’re family. I want to stay with you forever.”
Kodie chuckles.
I know Monroe is wasted, but his words cut me to the core.
While he might have a family supporting him, these guys literally are mine.
A few of them are aware that no one ever comes to watch my games like they do for them.
It’s been mentioned once or twice, but I always play it off.
The less I have to think about my past, let alone talk about it, the better.
“Help us win the Stanley Cup and maybe they’ll let you stick around for a while longer,” I tease, trying to make light of a heavy subject.
“We’re gonna do it,” Monroe says confidently. “We’re gonna fucking do it.”
“Okay, let’s go,” Kodie says as soon as the doors open on our floor. “Where’s your key?”
“Umm.” Monroe pats down his pockets. “It was right here.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“S’fine. I’ll just wait by the door until the others get back,” Monroe says, stopping at a door I’m not entirely sure is his.
“We’re not leaving you out here,” I state. “We’ve got a couch you can crash on.”
“Aw, you do care,” Monroe sings.
“A little too much, apparently,” I mutter as I dig my own key out and tap it against the panel. “In you go.” I give him a gentle shove, and he stumbles inside.
“Thanks, man,” Kodie says, watching as Monroe runs headfirst for the couch.
“You got it. Wouldn’t want to ruin playtime with your girl.”
Kodie narrows his eyes. He might not tell us any details about what him and Casey get up to while he’s on the road, but we all know they have some kind of game going on. And seeing as we won tonight, Kodie gets to reap the benefits.
“Appreciate it.”
“Wish me luck,” I call as he continues down the hallway.
By the time the door clicks closed behind me, Monroe is snoring, flat on his back on the couch, still fully dressed and with his sneakers on.
“Fucking hell,” I mutter as I stalk over and tug his shoes from his feet. I also grab him a bottle of water and place it on the floor beside him before shutting myself in the bathroom to shower and get ready for bed.
As I slip between the sheets, Monroe’s snores still bouncing around the room, I unlock my cell and open Instagram. It’s already on Casey’s account from earlier, and I quickly discover that she’s posted more photos.
I sit there in the dark, scrolling through every single one. Freya looks happy, relaxed, and unbelievably hot. She’s left her worries at the door, and she’s just enjoying her time with her friend. She’s forgotten the pain and the heartache. She’s just…her. I wish I was there to see it.
Switching to my messages, I read over our exchange from earlier and spend a little longer than I probably should watching the video she sent with her towel-clad body in the mirror.
I know Freya well enough to know she didn’t do that on purpose.
I can only imagine that she’ll be mortified when she realizes.
I stop it after the fourth repeat and scroll to the bottom of our chat to tap out a message.
Cole: Have you had a good night?
I’m not expecting a reply, so I switch to sports news and begin watching highlights of tonight’s games.
It’s almost thirty minutes later when I get a reply, and I can’t lie, excitement shoots through my veins the second I see her name pop up.
Whirlwind: I’VE HAD AN AMAZING NIGHT.
Whirlwind: Whoops, didn’t mean to shout. I’m dunk.
Whirlwind: Dunk.
Whirlwind: Dunk.
Whirlwind: D R U N K.
I chuckle at her attempt to type.
Whirlwind: In the car heading home.
Whirlwind: Your home.
Whirlwind: Did I tell you I love your bathtub?
Cole: You did. I’m glad you enjoyed it.
Whirlwind: It felt sooo good.
The image of her lying there naked, surrounded by bubbles, has heat surging south.
Stop it. She’s your employee. Do not think about her naked in any part of your apartment.
Whirlwind: I’m gonna use it every time I stay over. Do you use yours?
Cole: Sometimes.
Whirlwind: I bet you look hot in the bath.
Whirlwind: Oh, we’re here. Can’t wait to test your bed.
“Jesus.” This woman is going to be the death of me.
Cole: I hope you sleep well.
Whirlwind: Me too.
We exchange a couple more messages, but she stops responding after she’s told me that she’s safely inside.
Happy that she is, I put my cell on charge and roll over to sleep.
Only, it’s easier said than done with the rookie snoring his head off on the couch and thoughts of a certain woman inside my apartment.
As predicted, Monroe wakes up with a raging hangover. But Killer isn’t that much better. I heard him stumble in, but I didn’t look at the time. I rolled over and went back to sleep. I do have a faint memory of smelling female perfume, so I can only imagine where he ended up.
The flight back to LA is quiet. Even the coaching staff are, making me wonder if they also had a few drinks last night.
Thankfully, the flight is short, and before long, we’re stepping back on home soil and heading for our cars.
“Handsy, wait,” a familiar voice calls before I can escape. Now we’re here, I just want to get home.
“What’s up?” I ask as Monroe chases after me.
“I just wanted to say thank you for last night.”
“Not necessary, man. We always take care of our own.”
He gazes at me with shadows in his eyes. I want to say it’s the lingering hangover, but I think there’s more to it.
“I’m having a bit of a shit time of things at the moment. I didn’t mean to get so wasted.”
“It’s fine. Happens to the best of us.”
“Appreciate that.”
I hesitate, needing to say more but not really knowing how to voice it. “Is there…anything I can do to help?” I ask awkwardly.
“Nah,” he says, combing his hair back from his brow. “Just family stuff. You know how it is.”
“Yeah,” I agree. But really, I don’t have a fucking clue. “Well, I’m here if you do need anything. All of us are.”
“Thank you. I meant what I said last night. I love you guys.”
I can’t help but laugh. “You remember that, huh?”
“It’s a little hazy, but yeah.”
“See you tomorrow,” I say before pulling my key out and unlocking my car.
As I get closer to home, I become more nervous. I don’t know why. I’ve come home to Freya in my apartment plenty of times now. It’s just…it’s different this time, because she spent the night. It shouldn’t make any difference. But it does.
By the time I’ve ridden the elevator to the top floor, I’m feeling more anxious than I have in a long time.
Silence greets me as I let myself in. Concern nags at me, and it only gets worse when I realize I can’t smell anything.
She isn’t cooking.
I don’t think there has been a single time when I’ve come home where something hasn’t been frying, baking, or boiling.
Abandoning my duffle in my hallway, I walk deeper into my home, searching for her.
There are signs that she’s here. Her purse has been abandoned on the kitchen island, her cell beside it, explaining why she didn’t reply to my final message last night.
Her heels have been kicked off and abandoned in the hallway that leads to the bedrooms. And her green sparkly dress is…right outside my open bedroom door.
I pick up speed, my heart racing with possibilities. And when I turn the corner into my room, it stops beating entirely.
Because lying in the middle of my bed, fast asleep in only her sexy lingerie, is my beautiful chef.