22. August
22
“ A bout time you came out with us August,” Simon and Ryan held up their beers from across the high table at the local bar. We were in a closed-off VIP section to avoid the crowd, but there were other players around.
We just won another game, getting us one more closer to first place. We just needed to win Friday’s game.
“You coming back Friday?”
“You bet,” I held up my beer and took a long sip. A good cold one felt good once in a while.
“Dude I can’t believe you tricked me out that night at Finnigan’s. I thought you didn’t know shit about hockey.”
I chuckled. “I bluff for a living, Ryan.”
I had to admit, it had been fun to shoot around a puck with the big boys compared to my college days.
“Well you’re in the wrong business,” he reminded me.
“I happen to love my job.” But the view from my office and the growing bank account didn’t compare to the exhilarating feeling I got from being on the ice again.
“You got a girl?”
I wasn’t as old as some of these guys. Most of them were married. “No.”
“What about that girl you brought to the game? The blonde. She’s hot.”
“It’s not going to work out.”
After I dropped her off on Sunday, I spent the rest of the day pacing my apartment, feeling guilty for upsetting her.
What had gotten her so upset?
And why did she cancel on Troy? On me ?
I ran a hand across my face. This was all getting out of hand.
I needed to go see her, to tell her the truth once and for all…to tell her I was the one she wanted—not the loser who threw away every good thing he ever had.
But who was I to stand in the way of Harper and Troy being together?
Maybe the fact that you already slept with her?
I’d gone as far as taking her to bed, believing she somehow realized. But after accepting Troy’s invitation, I knew I’d made a mistake. I selfishly made the excuse for us and then blamed her for it.
Harper was innocent and my arrogance caused me to treat her like she was just another one of his one-night stands. I was so heated, so hurt—she didn't deserve that.
“We’re playing Detroit, the team we played opening day. Think you got this? You’ll be on the starting lineup.”
“I’m in.” It was less than forty-eight hours away and if I helped them win it, the deal they struck with Troy would be done. “What happens then?”
“If you win that game with us?” Simon shrugged and they exchanged glances. “How do you feel about playing full time?”
“We'll need to approach this with Coach and the GM carefully,” Ryan added, fully onboard with Simon.
I ignored the bubbling in my stomach. “Sounds like you two already thought this through.”
“Maybe. Something you be interested in?”
I shook my head. “This isn’t my thing. I love the game, always did. But this is Troy’s. All the way.”
That was our unspoken agreement two years ago.
I had my career.
Sure, it made me angry most of the time, and I lived on the edge of my seat on the stock market and looked twenty-nine when I was only twenty-three.
"You’ve got a skill, Hartman. You’re calculating. You’re precise. It’s kind of incredible. You’re built for pros. You’re not built for Wall Street."
I laughed. “I’ll play Friday's game with you guys. We’re going to take those guys down. After that, I need to leave it up to Troy. That was the deal.” I slid out of the booth. “Thanks for the beers.”
They nodded. “See you Friday, man.”
I turned and walked out of the bar—to my empty apartment. Where I’d been doing nothing but missing Harper in it. Silently waiting at midnight for her to knock on my door or find her sleeping soundly on my sofa.
She should be with me.
And something told me I lost my claim to her on that ride home on Sunday.
God, I hated Halloween.
“What’s been going on with you and Frankie?” Nic asked on Thursday morning after Frankie—for the fourth time that week—walked right past us and howled at Nic to bring his coffee and bear claw to the office.
“I don’t know what you mean,” I lied.
“He’s avoiding you. What’s going on?”
“I didn’t give him my sketches to share with the editors."
“Why not? Babe, I mean I love workin' with you, but you don’t belong here. You belong upstairs behind the drawing board.”
I scoffed. “Thanks, but I’m passing on this one.”
“Why?”
“I’m not really feeling these.” I scrubbed the shiny counter, avoiding Nic breathing down my shoulder.
“It’s because of August, isn’t it?” she hissed as if anyone was within earshot.
“I’m not going to make these guys my livelihood. They are not going to be the reason I make it up there.”
“You idiot. They’re not. You’re successful in spite of them. Both of them. Honestly, I don’t know how you tell them apart, they’re identical.”
How could everyone be so blind?
“Frankie will get over it. It’s not like it’s his job.”
“He doesn’t want you here anymore than I do, Harp.”
“Gee, thanks,” I muttered, dropping the towel and moving to the register as a customer approached.
“You know what I mean.” She smacked my ass with the towel I threw and moved to the espresso machine. “I’ll get his usual.”
During my mid-morning break, I sat with my yogurt and checked my phone.
My heart skipped a beat when I saw an unread message from August. I hadn’t heard from him since Sunday and was still hurting over his cruel words in the car. I knew he was just mad about Troy, but what was I supposed to do? I was falling for him. I felt it the morning I woke up in his arms and we watched the sunrise from the porch. And there wasn’t a thing I could do about it.
Not playing along with their game would be a good start. My conscience hadn’t been my friend for weeks now.
August: Are you free tomorrow night? I want to talk.
I nodded decidedly. Hope tugging at me. This was it, it had to be.
Me: Is this about the party on Saturday?
August: No . Can you come to the game tomorrow?
Me: I don’t have tickets.
A few minutes went by, and a message came through with a QR code confirming my seat reservation for tomorrow’s game. I smiled.
Me: No more signs?
August: No. I want to talk.
My entire body tensed at the ominousness of his message.
Me: See you tomorrow.