Chapter 38
DIDN’T SEE THAT COMING
Chase
Here’s the thing about New York fans. They don’t just hate you. They really fucking hate you.
Which is why it’s that much sweeter that I’m finally in the zone again with, count ’em not one, but two goals over the New York Rogues in their famed arena on Wednesday night. And the rabid fans have not let up with their chants of bad luck charm.
Yeah, real creative.
Pisses me off. But makes me play even harder. Trina wasn’t a bad luck charm. Not one bit. She is fucking incredible, but nope.
Can’t think about her on the ice.
Not during the game. Not at all. And I won’t get cocky even with our three-goal lead.
With only a few minutes left, I’m skating hard. Ledger has the puck, and he’s racing to the net. He takes aim, and then it comes: a mighty shot that smashes into the net’s twine and pads the lead.
The boos are deafening but still crystal clear.
Bad luck charm.
A few minutes later, when the horn sounds, signaling the end of the game, the jeers intensify, the brand-new insult rising in volume.
It’s not even apropos given we won, but that’s beside the point. I knew someone would say it. It started online a few days ago and picked up steam. But at least we’re winning again, and that’s all that matters.
On the way to the locker room, I rip off my helmet and Andrei high-fives me. “Nice work,” he says, then smacks palms with Ledger too. “And you too, old man.”
Ledger thumps Andrei’s head. “Where was your goal tonight, kid?”
Andrei laughs it off and the conversation moves on to the next game and the one after that.
And that’s the thing—it was one game, and anything could have happened, but it was a relief to play well. The bigger relief? My teammates haven’t said a thing about the podcast blowup and the big she’s your fake girlfriend bit.
In the hallway, Gianna catches up and says she wants Ledger and me for the post-game press in ten minutes.
“I’ll be there,” I say, and a few minutes later, after I take off my skates and jersey, we head to the media room. Along the way, Ledger shoots me a thoughtful look. “Don’t let that shit get to you. That bad luck charm stuff. I don’t think you are, but I just wanted to say it.”
And I spoke too soon. They noticed. Or at least, he did.
“Me, let something get to me? Never,” I say, keeping things light even though I don’t feel that way inside. I haven’t since Trina walked out. I know it’s for the best. Truly, I do. But I miss her more than I’d expected. Too bad there’s nothing I can do about it.
Ledger gives me a dubious look, but there’s no time to dig deeper since Gianna’s ready and waiting outside the room. Which means I need my armor since it’s New York and the press here has fangs.
After a couple easy questions about the game, a reporter in the back barks out, “Joe Cotton. New York Press. So you dumped the bad luck charm?”
And I burn inside as the gloves come off. I hate that he called her that. But I can’t let on. I’m all smiles as I say, “C’mon, Joe. You know you can’t believe everything you read. She’s a friend.”
“That’s not what I heard,” Joe presses. “She was your pretend girlfriend. Why’d you need a pretend girlfriend? To improve your play?”
And yup. I had a feeling this would happen, but I’m staying on message because it’s the right thing for her. But Gianna cuts in, leaning toward the mic at the table. “We’d like to keep the questions focused on hockey.”
“Fine. How was it dating someone who hates the sport?” someone else asks.
Clever. Real clever.
“That’s not hockey related,” Gianna corrects, but I can’t let her handle this mess for me.
“Actually, she knows a helluva lot about hockey,” I say. “Picked up the nuances real fast. And if you’re interested in nuance, you might want to consider reading a romance novel. You might learn a thing or two. Next question?”
Gianna seems to stifle a grin, and she lets the questions come. I handle them all. I might not be able to have Trina, but I can protect her even from afar.
* * *
Later, when the battering session is done, I return to the locker room with Gianna and Ledger. “It’ll die down soon. And then you’ll be like me, and they’ll just ask when you’ll retire,” he says.
“Not on my watch,” Gianna warns him.
“Or mine,” I add. I rely on this guy. I don’t want to think about playing without him. Just like I don’t want to think about being back in my home without Trina when I return to California in a few more days.
That’s going to suck big time.
Sucks, too, that I can’t call or text Ryker to get a beer and play pool. We’re not really talking, and that’s all kinds of messed up.
But for now, I’m the hassle to the team, and I hate being that guy. “Listen, Gianna. This should blow over soon. I’m going to do everything I can to make sure we can just keep on sailing,” I say, staying cheery.
“It’s okay. My job is to smooth your path, not the other way around.”
“Thank you,” I say, wishing I didn’t need the help.
When she heads the other way, Ledger holds up a stop-sign hand. “Chase,” he says and shit’s getting serious if he’s using my first name.
“Yeah?”
“I told the guys not to say anything. About the podcast and your…friend. And everything that went down.”
Oh.
I scratch my jaw, a little embarrassed that it came to that, him cleaning up my mess. But this explanation makes sense—explains why the guys said nothing. They listen to Ledger since he speaks from years of authority.
“Um, thanks,” I say.
“Anytime,” he says, then clears his throat. “But I did it because you seemed happier before.”
Ledger doesn’t usually give relationship advice. “That so?” I say with a smile.
“Yeah, that doesn’t fool me. That smile,” he says, calling bullshit. “If the bad luck charm makes you happy, get her back. We all know it wasn’t fake.”
He turns around and heads into the locker room, leaving me stuck with that piece of advice.
Get her back.
As if it’s not the thing I want most. And the thought I’ve been trying to avoid since I let her go on Sunday night.
* * *
Alone in my hotel room that night, I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, the words get her back echoing in my head.
Nice idea, but it seems impossible. Ledger doesn’t know it wasn’t just her and me.
There was someone else in the mix too, and we both want the girl.
We both want to share the girl. But I’m not even talking to Ryker.
Not so much as a single text. So getting back the girl seems harder than pulling off a hat trick.
I need to keep my head in the game, even if my heart’s on the other side of the country.
* * *
But as the trip goes on, the missing doesn’t ebb even as we keep winning.
It intensifies. Every day. Hell, every hour.
By the time the trip ends, and I’m boarding the plane back to San Francisco, my chest is tight, my muscles are tense, and my head is a mess.
I can’t separate thoughts of her from thoughts of anything else.
I can’t focus on a single thing that’s not her, knowing I’ll be in the same city as her again.
I’ll be close to her store. Close to her. She’s all I can think about. She’s the only thing on my mind. And she’s filling up every hollow space in my heart.
I can’t fix this feeling. I can’t solve this feeling. I can’t paste on a smile and make it all go away.
I just want her, no matter how hard I try to be the same guy I was before.
Because maybe I’m not the same guy anymore.