CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
SAM
“Are you flying solo this trip?” Ollie pauses next to me, noticing that Emerson wasn’t on the plane and didn’t check in to the hotel earlier.
“Yep,” I confirm with a grin, balancing on my skates. It’s funny how the moment Emerson became my handler, I went from me to a we , like we’re a couple or something. It’s even funnier how I don’t mind it. “But I’m a big boy. I think I can handle a little alone time.”
“I have no doubt that you can,” Ollie agrees.
The image of Emerson standing under the streetlamp with her lips connected to mine and my arms around her waist flashes into my head, like it’s done dozens of times since it happened. The way her soft breasts molded to my chest …
Cruz glides around us.
After our kiss the other night, I walked Emerson the rest of the way home. She could barely keep her eyes open by the time we pushed through the front door. She passed out when her head hit the pillow before changing out of her clothes. I slept in my bed alone.
Emerson awoke the next morning, feeling awful. I wasn’t surprised though, not with the amount of alcohol she had drunk the night before. For such a small woman, she’d really put it away. I watched her for most of the night from across the room.
She stayed in bed all morning and was still there when I went to practice later in the day. We both thought her head and body aches were a result of too many drinks. Turned out, we were wrong, which we found out when she spiked a fever later in the day. She went to the doctor, and he confirmed she had the flu. So, while I boarded a plane for our next away game alone, Emerson stayed nestled in her bed while intermittently downing cold medicine, surrounded by used tissues, and sleeping the day away.
“Em is sad not to be here though,” I add. “She really wanted to see Oakley.”
Ollie studies me with a smirk for a moment, and I resist the urge to flip him off. “Oakley will be disappointed not to see Em either, I’m sure.”
Ollie’s making fun of me. He noticed the way I was watching Emerson the other night at the bar, and he’s mentioned it more than once, digging for information I’m never going to give him. Who knew our winger was a gossipy little girl? I guess he could see the chemistry brewing between us though. He would rib me even more if he knew that I had her taste all over my tongue after our kiss that night.
“Come to dinner with us later,” he says, more as a command than a suggestion.
We’re in St. Louis today for a road game to play Chase’s team. Oakley lives here too. Ollie’s sister. My ex.
“Okay.” I nod, wondering if it’s the best idea.
I think I’m on good terms with Oakley and Chase now, but she was once my girlfriend. And we didn’t exactly part amicably at the time. I haven’t seen either of them in a while. I’m hoping there is no more bad blood between the three of us and that an intimate dinner won’t be awkward later. But it sounds like a better option than ordering room service alone.
Ollie moves past me, and I head in the other direction, taking long, languid strides to warm up my muscles. We’re in the afternoon skate around, which is optional. But I like getting a feel for the ice and stretching my legs after traveling. I line up some pucks and start taking shots on our backup goalie. The muscle memory is second nature at this point, and it allows my mind to drift.
My memory flashes with images of Doe again. I can’t stop thinking about her, though I’m not ready to admit that yet. The way she looked that night at the bar. The way she looked at me later during the walk home, like I was the key to solving all her problems. No woman has ever looked at me like that before. Not even Oakley.
I’m not sure what’s happening between Emerson and me. I just know that it feels good, and I seem powerless to stop it. I hope that kissing her wasn’t a mistake. She was drunk and not thinking straight. Did I take advantage of the situation? Did I take advantage of her ? Did she want it as much as I did at that moment?
I have tendencies to be impulsive, doing whatever feels right at the time. It’s gotten me in trouble more than once. I don’t dwell too much on the future or think everything that happens must mean something monumental. But that kiss … it felt like it meant something.
After the other night, I can admit to myself that Emerson caught my eye, even though she wasn’t trying to. But now that I’ve kissed her and we’ve crossed some invisible line, I want to do it again. But I’m uncharacteristically cautious. I have this innate desire to do things differently with her, and I’m not sure exactly where that originates from. I want to take things slowly and go at her pace, whatever that is. I don’t want to mess things up. I’ve gotten to know her these past few weeks. I’ve seen the woman beneath the surface, and I like what I’ve seen. She’s soft and gentle, but she can be fierce and go toe to toe with me when needed. That woman has no trouble putting me in my place, which never fails to bring a smile to my face. I didn’t realize that was something I needed until recently. I get bored quickly with women I can walk all over.
The interaction between Emerson and her sister was eye-opening too. Their relationship seemed complicated, though what family isn’t? There was an unspoken tension there, but Em never mentioned it in the aftermath. I could see the strain on her face when Eve popped up at the bar, though I didn’t realize it was her family at the time. Emerson couldn’t walk away fast enough, and after she left, Eve was all over me. Running her fingers up my chest. Touching my arm. Pressing her fake tits against my arm. It’s the same song and dance I’ve experienced countless times over the years when a woman serves herself on a platter to me. But I was surprised that this was Emerson’s sister because they are complete opposites. Where Emerson is understated and challenging, her sister is brash and forward.
When I let Eve know that I wasn’t interested, it only seemed to motivate her to pursue me harder. I finally begged Cruz to take her out of my hands. She’s hot, so it wasn’t a hardship on his part.
The funny thing is, Eve is exactly my type. My body count consists of countless women just like her. But that night, I didn’t look twice in Eve’s direction. And that had everything to do with her sister and the fact that I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
What is happening to me?
I’ve always been emotionally unavailable. I guess I prided myself on being untouchable. And then this girl-next-door type was forced on me with her sharp tongue and soft angles. Her raspy voice stirred something in my stomach, mostly anger in the beginning, especially when those golden-brown eyes threw accusations at me from across the room. But somewhere along the way, I started to enjoy our conversations. I pushed her buttons to incite her anger, taking pleasure in the banter that followed. Her opinion began to matter to me. I no longer wanted to disappoint her.
And now, life is thrust into black and white and hues of gray because she sucks all the color out of every room.
I don’t know if I love or hate it, but I’m sure it has me off-balance. I’m having emotions that I’ve never felt before. And I’m not quite sure I know what to do with them. Somehow, I don’t think I’ll have a choice the next time we come face-to-face because I seem to be led by instincts that I don’t understand lately. Like the other night when we kissed, even though there were a million reasons why we shouldn’t. But I couldn’t not kiss her.
Our time on the ice ends, and the afternoon goes by quickly. The game goes by even quicker. We win 2–1, but not without some effort. Chase is one of the best defensemen in the league, and he doesn’t make it easy for our team to score. But I wouldn’t expect him to. Our two goals are scored when he’s off the ice.
Ollie and I shower and leave the arena together afterward, taking a rideshare to a restaurant Chase and Oakley suggested.
“Do they know I’m coming?” I ask Ollie as the car is pulling up to the curb.
“They know,” he assures me, smirking at my nervousness. “Relax … we’re all friends here.”
We exit the car and walk into the restaurant. Ollie gives his name to the hostess at the front, and she leads us to a table in the back, where Oakley and Chase are waiting. They rise as we approach, their faces all smiles. Chase reaches me first, pulling me into a one-armed hug.
“Anderson,” he says.
“What’s up, Matthews?” I respond, slapping his back. “It’s good to see you.”
“You too.”
We exchange partners, Chase greeting Ollie while Oakley turns to me. She’s just as beautiful as I remember, maybe even more so now. Her dark hair is long and still falls in waves down her back. Her big turquoise eyes glow through the dim lighting of the restaurant, and she’s smiling up at me with that gentle smile of hers. I pull her into a friendly hug.
“Hi, Sam,” she says, her cheek momentarily pressed against my chest.
“Hi, Oakley.”
She’s familiar and foreign at the same time.
I release her. “How are you?”
“I’m great. How are you? Are you liking Chicago?”
“I’m loving it,” I say honestly. “It’s been a good move for me.”
We settle into our seats, Chase and Oakley on one side of the table, and Ollie and me across from them. We order drinks when the waitress appears, study the menu for a few minutes while making small talk, and then focus on each other.
“So, you just had to come to my arena and make me look bad?” Chase jokes, staring first at Ollie and then at me.
“I think you’re the one who made us look bad,” I counter. “The puck sure as hell didn’t see the back of the net tonight when I had it.” I roll my neck around a couple of times. “And thanks for that shot against the boards.”
He chuckles, probably picturing when he checked me against the wall late in the second period.
“Was that payback for something?”
“Nope.” He smirks. “That was pure adrenaline. You come into my house, you’re gonna pay for it. Former teammate or not.”
“I’ll send you the bill for my chiropractor later,” I quip, relaxing into the easy atmosphere.
“How’s it going with the team here?” Ollie asks Chase.
“It’s okay.” He lowers his voice and glances around the place, but we’re isolated in the back. I doubt anyone can hear us. “We need a couple of solid forwards before we’ll be contenders for the cup, in my opinion. We’re too inconsistent with scoring.” Chase glances over at me. “Tell me you’re hating Chicago and you want another move.”
“Hey,” Ollie warns good-naturedly, “we’re here for dinner, not for you to steal Anderson from our team.”
“I hate to break it to you, Matthews, but I’m loving the Hawks. The only thing that would make it better is if you were up there with us,” I say.
“I wish,” Oakley groans before Chase can. “I’d love to be in Chicago right now.”
“You basically live there half the time already.” Chase smirks, slinging his arm across her shoulders.
Oakley leans into him. “Only because you’re on the road so much. And Mads and Ollie are there …” I detect the longing in her voice. “It would be perfect if we were all together.”
“Unfortunately, it doesn’t work like that, Oak,” Ollie says.
He and his sister have always been close. I think he’d like having her in the same city as much as she’d enjoy being there.
“What are you doing for work?” I ask Oakley.
“PR for independent authors,” she answers. I guess Oakley and Mads went into the same field after graduating from Sinclair. “It’s all online, so I can work from anywhere.”
“That’s convenient,” I say.
Oakley always did love to read. There were many nights back when we were together where I was watching some sporting event on television while she had a book in hand right next to me on the couch.
She nods. “It is.” She glances over at Chase. “It’ll make it easier if he ever gets traded. I can go anywhere.”
Chase lifts their connected hands to his mouth, kissing the back of hers. “And it makes it easier for you to go with me to away games, even though you haven’t been. You need to start traveling with me more often.”
She smiles over at him, straightening his collar affectionately with her free hand. “We can look at your schedule together when we get home.”
Chase leans over and kisses her cheek.
“All right,” Ollie says good naturedly. “Settle down.”
I chuckle, glad to see that Chase and Oakley are still just as obsessed with each other as they were when they first got together. Somehow, it makes it easier on my ego, knowing they were meant to be. I’m genuinely happy for them. I couldn’t say that for a long time.
Watching them together now has me feeling uncharacteristically sentimental. I start picturing Doe. Kissing her under a starry sky. The way her body felt pressed against mine. Her face framed by my hands …
My attention is pulled back to the present when the waitress appears. I order a steak, and we talk more hockey while we’re waiting on our food. The food is great, and the conversation flows easily. I find that I’m disappointed when the meal is finished and we’re rising to leave.
“We can drop you off at your hotel,” Chase offers.
“Okay,” Ollie accepts.
“I had to park down the block,” he explains.
Ollie decides to go with him while I wait with Oakley in front of the restaurant. She and I watch as they walk away.
“You seem happy,” I comment, glancing over to see Oakley’s eyes still on Chase.
“We are,” she answers with a soft smile on her face.
I think this is the first time Oakley and I have been alone together since that night so long ago when I tried to rekindle a flame that had already burned out. I pause, wondering if I should say what is on the tip of my tongue. But in the end, I decide this is the perfect opportunity.
“I’m sorry about the way things went down with us in college … the way I ended things. And I didn’t realize how serious you and Chase were from the beginning.”
Oakley is watching me now. “We were kids when we were together, Sam. I don’t know that I really knew what I wanted when we met.”
“But you know now?” I ask.
She nods, a sweet and satisfied smile slowly spreading across her face. There’s no doubt that she wants Chase. I’m sure of this, even without her speaking the words. And he wants her.
“I’m glad.” I pull her to me and kiss the side of her head. She winds an arm around my waist and squeezes before we both let go. “I don’t know if I ever told you I was sorry about … everything. I just wanted you to know that I am.”
She grins again. “If you said it before, I wasn’t ready to hear it. But I can tell that you mean it. I appreciate it. And I accept your apology. But I don’t hold any of that against you now. I haven’t for a very long time. Things worked out as they should’ve.” She studies me for a few seconds. “You seem different.”
“Different good or different bad?”
“Definitely good,” she murmurs.
“I’m happier in Chicago. Things are better now.”
“Was it the team making you unhappy before?” she asks, tilting her head.
“It was a lot of things.” I lean back against the brick facade and cross my arms over my chest. “If your memory fails you, I haven’t made the best decisions the past few years.”
I’m sure she must’ve seen some of the headlines and gossip sites about my behavior. And she witnessed the partying and women back in college. Oakley’s just too gracious to throw it in my face.
She leans against the wall beside me and watches the cars driving by. “I’m not in the habit of keeping score, Sam.”
Oakley has always been forgiving. She’s never judged me. Not once. It remains one of her kindest qualities to this day.
“But if you feel your decisions were bad … are they getting better now?”
“I think so,” I say, my stare locked in the distance. “I hope so.”
“One day at a time, right?”
“Right,” I agree.
“You know … I really loved you back then, Sam,” she confesses.
Our eyes connect.
“I loved you too,” I admit. “I still do, just in a different way now.”
This conversation is long overdue. It feels good to clear the air.
“Same.” She smiles. “And even though we weren’t meant to be, we will always have some great memories together. Now, we can make more as friends. It took me a while to get to this point, but it feels good to be here now.”
“It does,” I murmur. “You’re a good person, Oakley. And you were a great girlfriend.”
“I know,” she says, and we both laugh. Her face grows serious again. “You know something I learned from you? Sometimes, the wrong choices get us to the right places.”
“Thanks,” I say wryly, “I think.”
She laughs. “No, I mean it. Don’t beat yourself up for past mistakes or ‘bad decisions.’” She uses her fingers to make quotation marks when she says bad decisions . “Because I think you’re right where you’re supposed to be.”
Her words warm my chest. I feel like I’m where I’m supposed to be. Maybe for the first time ever.
She bumps her shoulder into mine. “And consider that apology one and done. I don’t need any more sorry s from you, Sam.”
“Good,” I quip, “because you weren’t getting another one.”
“Hey!”
We both laugh again as Chase pulls his truck up to the curb. I push off the wall and walk forward.
“Oakley,” I say right before she opens the door, grabbing her hand to stop her. “Thanks.”
She winks at me and squeezes my hand. “Anytime, friend .”
For the first time since we broke up during our freshman year of college, we genuinely feel like friends. And I wouldn’t trade it for the world.
Maybe she’s right.
Maybe sometimes, the wrong choices get us to the right places.
And time has proven to heal old wounds.