Chapter 16 Colton
SIXTEEN
COLTON
OCTOBER | COLUMBUS, OHIO
“Everything alright last night? You took off fast.”
Sorrento sat in the locker across from mine, lacing up his skates and slamming his heel back to get the perfect fit.
Every guy has their routine, the rhythm of how they lace up.
Mine has more of a wiggle to it. And I have a special routine to fit the ribbon in there.
I’m so careful not to bust the damn thing after all this time.
“Yeah, it’s all fine. Old friend needed help.”
“Old friend who you called baby?” Sorrento lifted a brow at me.
“What’s this? Cap finally found somebody?” our goalie, Royce, chimed in.
Sebastian Lindberg, the other half of my defensive pair, had to have his moment to shit on Royce. “Finally? Like you’re so successful, Royce.”
“I have discerning tastes,” Royce snapped, giving Lindberg a pointed look.
“Don’t look at me! I’m married!” Lindberg put his hands up.
“Swear to god, we can never have a normal conversation in this place,” Leroy grumbled.
He wasn’t wrong and it would have been worse if it wasn’t the morning skate before a preseason game with a high volume of rookies trying to prove themselves. They usually knew when to let the adults do the talking.
“Her name’s Violet,” the rookie we were definitely keeping, Owen, said. “She’s a scientist. I saw her lab. It was pretty cool.”
So much for letting the adults do the talking. I rounded my eyes at Owen and sighed.
“Wait, where do I know that name from?” Sorrento asked. “The girl you were with at Stelle’s wedding?”
Leroy straightened, flipping his stick to tape the blade. “Yeah. The long dark hair? Kitty’s bridesmaid?”
“How the hell do you remember that?” I asked.
Leroy shrugged. “I was alone at that wedding. I sat watching the dance floor a lot. You two seemed close. She’s pretty. You looked happy.”
“I wanna see,” Royce whined. “I wasn’t at that wedding. I didn’t get invited.”
“Because you don’t know Stelle,” Leroy said with a slap to the back of Royce’s head.
“But it was Hollywood royalty. And I’m a personality hire. I should get an auto-invite to every league wedding,” Royce said. “Come on. Show me a pic!”
I got my phone out of my locker and pulled up Violet’s contact picture, showing Royce the screen.
He let out a long, low whistle. “She single?”
“Not for you!” I barked.
“Is she single for you, Jonesy?” Sorrento asked pointedly.
“It’s complicated,” I mumbled.
“What was that?” Sorrento pushed.
“Could we please focus on the lines for tonight?” I tried.
“She got a sister? Is her mom hot?” Royce cut in.
Leroy scoffed. “Oh, you have discerning tastes, but you want Colt’s girl’s mom.”
“Relax. Age is just a number,” he said with a smirk.
Impossibly long legs under a short, tight skirt, a strip of skin on her midriff that made my lips ache, small breasts perfectly accentuated by her cropped shirt, and a jacket over top to pull it all together.
Friend date, I reminded myself. This was a friend date. Violet didn’t need me pinning her to her couch and gazing into her eyes while she was healing. She needed space. She was letting me be in her space, which was a privilege I would not squander.
And anyway, my foolish heart needed to cool its jets. Violet left me twice before. There were reasons we needed to go slow.
I stood to greet her, extending my arms for a hug. “Hey. Wow.”
“Wow, what?” she said as she folded herself into my arms, giving me a genuine squeeze.
“You . . . definitely look better than the guys I hang out with.”
She wrinkled her brow with a quizzical smile. “What?”
I scrunched my nose. “The beer with the guys comment. About tonight. You know what? It was stupid. Sit.”
I pulled out her chair. “Do you pull out chairs for the guys?” she asked.
I winced. “Sorry. Old habit.”
She grabbed my hand once I sat at the table and wiggled it. “Hey. Relax. It’s just us. Hanging out.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I know,” I said, trying to covertly tug at my collar. Why was it so unseasonably hot for October?
“I saw you guys lost yesterday.” She leaned on one hip to cross her legs, her foot brushing my leg under the table. “Sorry about that.”
Was she sorry about touching me or the preseason loss? I went with the latter.
“Meh. It’s the preseason. If we win, great. If we lose, it’s the preseason and it doesn’t mean anything.”
“Well, get it together. I’m still in Nouri’s NHL fantasy league and I’m counting on a whole lot of you.”
“Aw. At least somebody believes in the Rusties. Beats most of the rest of this city.”
Violet saluted. “I will go down with the ship, unless it’s midseason and you’re really tanking my score. I don’t want to eat atomic wings.”
I bobbed my head. “You know what? If you lose and your team is 50% Rusties or more, I’ll eat the wings with you. Put some skin in the game.”
She chuckled. “I thought the skin was winning the Cup.”
I waved a hand. “One thing at a time.”
She laughed, eyes brightening when our server came to get our drink order.
“Do you have any mocktails?” I asked.
The server rattled off a few options and I chose something with cucumber in it.
“I’ll have the same,” Violet said.
I shrugged. “You can get a drink. You had a long week. I just have early practice.”
Vi waved a hand. “No, the mocktail sounds good.”
The server left us and we hit a slightly awkward patch. Violet seemed unaffected. “Owen was nice, by the way. When he brought the keys.”
My jaw set and I had to fight a scowl. “How nice?”
Violet’s lips curled into a smirk. “Feeling jealous, Jones?”
I forced myself to take a deep breath. “Do you really want me to answer that?”
She leaned in conspiratorially. “Between us, he’s not quite my type. You know. Eighteen. Undeveloped brain.”
“Actually, I think he’s twenty,” I said. “I could put in a good word for you if that changes things.”
“Ooh, don’t tempt me. Twenty’s a whole different ballgame.”
Our drinks arrived and we placed our dinner order. I lifted my glass to toast Vi, then froze.
“To old friends,” I said, right when she said, “To new beginnings.”
Her chest flushed when we clinked glasses and she looked down into her drink. What did she mean? She was the one drawing the “just friends” line. And I wasn’t mad about it.
Well, not mad. Disappointed? Yeah. I was disappointed. Eleven years, with the last three being almost torturous.
I shifted my focus to her and not us.
“So, I guess . . . how’s life?” I asked.
She released a pleased sigh. “Good overall, I think. New job is challenging. Love my supervisor, but we’ve been working together since Boston. My apartment is, well, you saw it. It’s fine. I hate how much I have to drive here, but it’s nice enough. I miss Boston a little.”
“Surprised you left,” I said. “It was always your happy place.”
She sniffed in a breath. “It was time. I was ready. I’ve been,” she trailed off, then focused on my eyes.
“I’ve been trying to figure out the purpose of everything, right?
The thing I study at work, it seemingly happens for no reason.
Or at least, it’s not fair that some people have to deal with stuff like that, and the rest of us get off scot-free. ”
A pang shot through my belly. She’d had plenty to deal with, so much that she delayed facing it. But I just nodded, encouraging her to go on.
“And then, a lot of my friends in Boston were settling down. My sister. Guy and Kitty, though not in Boston. I guess I just want more than me in my apartment, at my job, and going to the gym sometimes. I’ve considered getting a dog.”
I chuckled. “This, from a not-a-dog person. What kind?”
“I am a dog person.” She glared at me and pulled out her phone. “You know what a Min Pin is?”
She brought up a picture of a tiny black dog with brown markings on its face and chest. “That’s cute as hell.”
“Right? Who could resist those little faces?”
I ran my fingers down the chilled glass in front of me and narrowed my eyes. “I maintain that you’re not a dog person. You were scared of the border collies on the farm.”
She planted me with a look. “And I maintain that those dogs were insane. That’s why.”
“A couple of them, yes, may have some issues. But they’re just aggressive lovers.”
“I don’t know anybody else like that,” she said with a smirk before she lifted her glass. “How are your parents anyway? The farm?”
“All good,” I said. “Dad remains equally worried about my career and the sheep.”
“You really do come from a long line of romantics,” she teased. “Your mom liked to knit, so your dad used his hockey money to buy her a wool farm.”
“Oh, they’re sickening,” I agreed. “It’s also alpacas now because they have even better wool. ESPN came out over the summer to do a special on them. I had to be there. It was a whole thing. It’ll air when the season starts.”
Violet beamed. “Your parents are sweet. And I’m a little sad that now the whole country will get to see Farm Boy Colton.”
I laughed. “Yeah, they made me shear a sheep. Which, you know, I can do, but it was weird to do a chore for the camera?”
Violet’s jaw dropped. “Oh, buddy. Your stock’s about to go way up. Might have to teach me your fighting techniques.”
My cheeks burned and I licked my upper teeth. “You’d fight for me?”
She avoided the question, looking at her nails. They had to be kept short for her lab work and she held them out. “You think I can sharpen these stubs into talons?”
My stomach bottomed out at her smile. Her fucking smile. When I saw her a few nights before, she was at an all-time low, maybe worse than the times she left me. Here, she was in her element: relaxed, joking around, unstoppable.
I shook my head. “I’d never bet against you, Vi. You’re a force.”