Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
MATTEO
“The first time I saw her, the world around me went quiet. I didn’t recognize her at first, although my soul knew. It knew she was the one it had been looking for.” - Julian Hart, Painted Inferno
“Matty, throw me that roll of tape.”
I tug once more on my laces, loosening them before grabbing the roll of white tape to my left and tossing it around Cam Shaw and over to Theo. I’ve known Theodore Simmons most of my life. Our families have always been close since our dads played for the Aston Archers together.
He’s one of the younger kids on the team, but I promised his dad and mine that I’d take him under my wing when he came into the league at nineteen.
“Boys, we need to get our shit together.”
The voice of our captain, Warren Cross, echoes through the locker room as he drops down onto the bench. He tosses his helmet onto the floor in anger, his damp hair shifting as he shakes his head.
He’s not wrong. The first half of the season wasn’t bad, but it’s like after the beginning of January, we’ve been on a downhill slope. We’ve been on a losing streak for three weeks, which is borderline embarrassing.
Practice this morning was absolutely grueling with no pucks and just skating. A few of the guys were running for the nearest trashcan after we got off the ice.
“We need to figure out what the problem is and fix it.”
Something has been off and the synergy just isn’t there.
Whatever we had going at the beginning of the season vanished.
Now, we’re drifting lower in the standings with every game.
We had a shot at play-offs and if we don’t turn things around, there’s a chance we might not even be in the race for a wildcard spot.
Dropping my gaze to the floor to avoid Cross’s gaze as he looks around the locker room, I slide my feet from my skates and wipe the blades down with a towel. I know I’m partially to blame for the downfall of the Hillford Ice Hawks.
Since the new year, I haven’t scored a single fucking goal.
And as a power forward, that’s completely unacceptable.
“I mean, it could be a multitude of things,” Theo offers. I look at him and he shrugs his shoulders as he continues to wrap the tape around his stick’s blade.
Cross clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “I don’t know. No one’s been injured for long enough to make a real difference. We’re not scoring goals like we should be. If we can’t produce, what the fuck are we doing here?”
Guilt immediately strikes my chest and I feel his eyes on me. I’m bent forward again, pulling the clear tape from my socks. I’m not the only one who hasn’t been putting up points, but as someone who averages one point per game, I know I’m one of the main culprits.
“Who’s been changing shit up?” Shaw chimes in as he rises to his feet. My eyebrows tug together and Theo mumbles something to himself. “Should we all shave our heads or some shit?”
Theo huffs. “Here we go again.”
Hockey players are known for their superstitions and quirky habits.
I toss the tape into the trash can and slip off my socks and then my shinguards.
The smell of sweat, melted ice, and musk fills the room as everyone strips out of their gear.
No one’s bothered by the scent. It comes with the territory.
“No, for real,” Shaw insists, his eyes trailing around the locker room, scanning each and every one of us with scrutiny. “Someone must have changed something up and whatever it is, it’s not working.”
Murmurs and mumbles break out throughout the room as the guys all start to disagree with him. Cross tilts his head to the side, his gaze locking with mine. The way he studies me is a tad unnerving, although it’s not unusual from him. He’s highly calculated, but quick to confront.
“Matty.”
I inhale deeply. “What?”
“You’re the only one who hasn’t said anything.”
I purse my lips and shrug my shoulders. “I don’t think I’ve been doing anything different or out of the ordinary.”
“That’s not true,” Gray, our goalie, cuts in. I whip my head to the side, my eyes narrowing on him. “Your New Year's resolution, remember?”
No way...
We ended up playing on New Year’s Eve and afterwards, we all drank champagne and made resolutions. Realization dawns over me. My eyes widen as I stare back at him. That game was the last one we won.
“Oh shit.” Shaw, Cross, and I all say at the exact same time.
“That’s gotta be it,” Tyson, one of our wingers says, nodding eagerly. “That last girl you were seeing around Thanksgiving. What was her name?”
I swallow roughly. “Robin.”
She knew the deal when we first started talking. I told her from the gate that I don’t date for love. I don’t do attachments, commitments, or strings. It’s mostly just something to occupy my free time. Who doesn’t enjoy a little companionship every now and then?
She swore she was cool with it, but things ended up changing, as they always do. She wanted more and I didn’t. We ended things right before the holiday.
“Right, right.” Tyson’s head bobs again. “You haven’t talked to anyone since your resolution, have you?”
On New Year's Eve, my resolution was to eliminate distractions, which meant swearing off dating. All the women I spoke to only saw one thing: a successful, professional athlete. Of course they always wanted more.
More is something I will never want from anyone.
“Holy shit,” Shaw says slowly, turning to face me. “That’s gotta be the reason why.”
“Shouldn’t it be the opposite?” I retort. “Getting rid of outside distractions should have me more focused on the game.”
Shaw smirks. “Theoretically, but I think you might be the exception.”
“It can’t be,” I argue, shaking my head at him, refusing to accept it as a possibility. “There’s no way.”
“But what if there is?” Theo says, a smirk tugging on his lips. “Dude, what if you need the distractions? What if you’re playing like shit because you’re overthinking it or something?”
“Hey, I’m not playing like shit.”
A few of the guys snort.
“You haven’t scored since the New Year’s Eve game,” Gray reminds me.
“On and off the ice,” Shaw chimes in, laughter chasing his words.
I rise to my feet, shaking my head at all of them. “Okay, fuck you all. It’s not my fault the entire team is playing like shit and on a losing streak. There’s no fucking chance that’s the reason behind it.”
“I mean, who’s to say it isn’t?”
All eyes are on me and judging by the looks on every single face, they might all be buying this.
“Think about it,” Theo says, rising to his feet as he walks over to me. “You’re one of our high energy guys. We all feed off of it. If you’re down, whether we realize it or not, we match that.”
My jaw drops. “You’re not seriously blaming me.”
“Not directly,” he explains, frustration washing over his expression before it fades. “At the end of the day, we’re each responsible for the way we play. There’s a synergy, a cohesiveness to our team. If one of us is off, it has a ripple effect.”
I chew on his words, letting them sink in. Again, there’s some truth behind them. Normally, when someone’s having a bad day, the rest of the team can pick up the slack. But after getting our asses handed to us time and time again, it wears you down.
“Am I supposed to just throw my resolution out the window?”
“Maybe,” Cross says, shrugging his shoulders. “It wouldn’t hurt to try, right? You just need a distraction off the ice. Someone to feed that boisterous ego of yours.”
“You do have a tendency of being a little more showy when you have someone to impress.”
What the fuck is this? An intervention? I didn’t sign up to have the entire locker room tell me about myself. I already know I’m a bit overly confident, if you will.
“It’s a theory to test.”
“A theory,” I snort, rolling my eyes dramatically. I grab my clothes to head to the wash room. “Yeah, whatever, I’ll think about it.”
There’s no way I can’t not think about it now that they planted the little superstitious seed in my mind. I love my teammates. We truly are like family and they’re great guys, but fuck them all right now.
My hair is still damp from the shower, making it difficult to ignore the chill in the air as I climb out of my car.
As much as I don’t want to believe it, there could be some truth to what the guys were saying.
I’m just as superstitious as the next guy on the bench.
What if they’re right? What if I’m the reason behind our losing streak?
Self doubt isn’t something that melds well with my confidence. My ego doesn’t like it.
My footsteps are heavy and I pull the hood of my sweatshirt over my head to block the snow flurries dancing in the air. January in Massachusetts tends to be pretty brutal, especially where Hillford is, not far from the coast.
I tuck my hands into the pockets of my winter coat and put my head down as I walk down the sidewalk.
There’s a coffee shop on my way home that is part of my routine.
On days I have to be at the rink, whether it’s for practice or a game, I always stop here on my way home.
And I always order the same exact thing: an extra sweet caramel macchiato.
At least there’s one thing I haven’t done wrong to mess up the way I’ve been playing.
The coffee shop is busy when I step inside, seeking reprieve from the falling snow. Baristas behind the counter move about in a flurry, taking orders, making drinks, and calling out the names of customers.
Along the left side of the counter are two self-service tablets to place your order.
I typically just order from there and now is not going to be the time I do anything differently.
The one on the left is my preferred tablet.
The one on the right is already occupied and there are two women standing in front of the one I like on the left, although neither of them are paying any mind to the screen.
I pull my hood down, brushing my hair from my forehead as I slowly approach. Their backs are to me and as I step up behind them, I can see the screen clearly.
“Thanks for your order,” it says in bold black letters.
“Excuse me.”
They both glance over their shoulders to look at me. The woman on the right immediately narrows her eyes, spinning her body to face me head on. Her friend stares back at me for a moment, her auburn hair shifting along her back as her soft blue eyes do a quick scan of my face.
A smile spreads across my lips as my gaze trails across her delicate features. She’s gorgeous, but not in a loud obnoxious way. It’s more so the quiet, tender kind of beauty. The kind that demands your attention and slides under your skin like a sharp needle.
Who are you?
“Hi.” I offer an apologetic smile, noticing the faint freckles peppered over the bridge of her nose before bouncing back to her eyes. “Sorry for interrupting.”
They both look to be in their twenties, although it’s hard to tell which end. They’re both facing me now. Blondie on the right has her eyebrows pinched together like she wants to cinch my throat closed. I look back at the softer blue eyes.
“Do you need something?” She smiles, but it’s tense.
I clear my throat, running my hand through my hair. Charming women is my strong suit, but she has me feeling off my game. That makes two games now—fuck. “I was wondering if you guys were done with the tablet.” I glance behind them at the counter before meeting their eyes once more.
“Oh, yes,” the one with freckles says, grabbing her friend’s wrist as she tugs her away from the counter. Her friend is still looking at me like she doesn’t know what to do with me. “Sorry about that,” she says, as they step out of my way.
“No worries.” I nod, keeping my distance as I walk around them and step up to the counter. A hint of vanilla and raspberries dances in the air as I pass them. Soft and subtle, like she only pressed down for half a spray when she put the perfume on. It has to be hers.
Shaking my head to myself, I punch my order in, knowing the placement of every button by heart. I press the one to send it to the baristas before walking across the shop to the bathroom. Pausing just outside the door, I can’t help myself as I turn my head to the side, looking for her.
My heart thumps a little harder and my eyebrows tug downward when I don’t see where she was last.
“You goin’ in?”
A gruff voice behind me breaks through my thoughts. I look at him, giving him a curt nod as I pull open the door and slip inside. I know her blue eyes and those freckles scattered like constellations are going to haunt me. A smile tugs on my lips.
This is just the kind of distraction I’ve been trying to avoid.
And maybe it’s the exact thing I’ve been missing.