Chapter 2
Chapter Two
CHELSEY
I collapsed into the driver’s seat of my ancient SUV, my hands shaking, and prayed that I’d come across as cool and collected. I’d certainly tried to. I dropped my forehead onto the steering wheel and drew in deep breaths, trying to calm myself.
Damn Matt Matthews to the deepest pits of hell. Why couldn’t I feel nothing for him after all this time?
Ugh, I hated that seeing him still stirred up so many emotions. My gut churned with hurt and betrayal, but there was a hint of something else too. Something I’d never admit to, even under pain of torture.
Attraction.
How dare that asshole be just as handsome as ever?
There should be a rule that cowardly men weren’t allowed to be sexy.
He should be balding and potbellied and well and truly gone to seed, not just as gorgeous in that all-American way as ever.
Fucking Matt with his thick blond hair, piercing blue eyes, and those muscular biceps I used to love to feel wrap around me.
It wasn’t fair.
I sat up and checked out the window to make sure no one had seen my slightly embarrassing meltdown. Reassured that the coast was clear, I slotted the key into the ignition and started the engine.
It was a bit of a drive from the stadium to the apartment I shared with my best friend, Layla, and I spent far too much of it wondering exactly what Matt had wanted to say to me when he’d tried to apologize.
I’d interrupted because I hadn’t been interested in hearing any excuses, but still…
I wondered, and it irritated me that I cared.
I shouldn’t give a shit about what Matt wanted to say. I wished I didn’t. I wished a lot of things, but wishes were just that: wishes. They weren’t meant to come true.
My career, on the other hand, was real, and I’d worked hard for it.
I’d thought long and hard about accepting this job offer because I knew it would mean seeing Matt again, but the opportunity had been too tempting.
If I was part of the team that successfully turned around one of the biggest PR disasters in the NHL, then I’d be able to write my own ticket.
I wouldn’t be stuck applying for everything and crossing my fingers that something panned out like I had when my last contract was coming to an end.
I wasn’t about to let Matt mess with that.
Honestly, I doubted he would anyway. At least not intentionally.
He wasn’t that kind of person. But he could be bullheaded when he wanted something, and given my own mixed emotions when it came to him, it would be best to keep my distance as much as possible.
I met my eyes in the rearview mirror before flicking them back to the road. “Get yourself together.”
I parked in the basement of our apartment building and took the elevator to our floor.
My apartment was about midway up the building, which was nice because it meant we had a reasonably nice view.
I used the key to let myself in, bent to untie my shoelaces, placed my shoes next to the door, and wandered farther in.
Despite the gray skies, sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling window in the living room and the heating system maintained a pleasant temperature, like what I’d become accustomed to in Los Angeles.
“How did it go?” Layla asked from where she sat cross-legged on the couch.
“Well, I think.” I removed my camera from around my neck and placed it on the kitchen counter. “Everyone I talked to was friendly.”
I’d noticed that a few of the players hadn’t made any effort to introduce themselves to me and suspected those might cause problems later. Fortunately for me, I was familiar with every player on the team, including the rookies, because of my love of the game and plenty of pre-season preparation.
I’d already noted which players I’d spoken to and which I hadn’t, so I knew who to be wary of.
Layla’s dark eyes bored into me as she tucked her feet beneath herself and flicked her silky black hair off her shoulder. “Was Matt there?”
I dipped my head. “He was.”
Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “And was he on his best behavior?”
I sighed and dropped onto the cushion beside her. “He tried to apologize.”
Her nostrils flared. “The nerve.”
Despite my own concern about the situation, I chuckled.
My relationship with Matt had ended nearly ten years ago, and while I was still hurt, a lot of time had passed since then.
I’d changed—I wasn’t so insecure—and however much I might not want to admit it, I was sure he had grown as a person too.
What hadn’t changed was the fact Layla wanted Matt’s head on a platter.
My best friend was bloodthirsty, and I loved her for it.
“I don’t think he’ll be a problem.” I glanced at her half-drunk coffee on the table and wondered whether there was more or if I’d have to make my own.
Layla jutted her chin out. “Let me know if you need any help keeping him in line.”
I got up and went to the kitchenette. There was a serving of coffee remaining in the carafe, and I poured it into a cup and added one of the hazelnut creamers I loved.
“I think all I need to worry about, where he’s concerned, is making sure he doesn’t have the opportunity to pester me into talking about our past. He won’t sabotage me. ”
He wasn’t the kind of jerk who would endanger someone’s livelihood out of pettiness.
Layla picked up her coffee and sipped it, her lips curving in a catlike smile. “So, what’s your plan to make him stay away?”
I cocked my head. “What do you mean? I’ll just treat him the same as everyone else and avoid being alone with him.”
She rolled her eyes. “That isn’t going to be enough. He’s already shown that he wants to talk to you, and in my experience, dumbasses do dumbass things.”
“He’s not a dumbass.” It would have made it easier if he were. Instead, Matt was intelligent, talented, and a little rough around the edges from growing up in a poor household where he’d had to work as soon as he was able to.
Matt Matthews wasn’t afraid of hard work.
He was just afraid of being judged and found wanting.
That was a large part of the reason we’d ended on bad terms. I’d been insecure, I could own that.
My ex before Matt had constantly niggled away at me about my weight, in ways so subtle that it took me ages to realize I wasn’t being overly sensitive. That didn’t help matters.
But Matt? He’d been too much like my family, always concerned about image. Constantly weighing the social ramifications of every word out of his mouth, which meant he wasn’t there when I needed him to stand up for me because he was too busy protecting himself.
Layla pursed her lips. “Are you sure you don’t have lingering feelings for him?”
I snorted. “The only thing I feel is the desire to take him down a peg.”
After all, anything else would be foolish.
Layla nodded and accepted my reply, but I could tell she didn’t fully believe it. I didn’t blame her. It had taken me a long time to get over the number Matt did on my ego.
“Do you want to catch the three o’clock yoga class?” she asked, glancing at the clock on the wall. “Might be a good way to decompress.”
“Actually, yeah. That sounds great.”
I went to my bedroom and sorted through my clothes until I found a clean pair of yoga pants, a baby pink tank top, and one of my favorite sports bras.
Being a curvy girl, it was important to make sure everything stayed where it was supposed to while I exercised, and that was easier said than done.
The first time I’d gone to yoga, I hadn’t realized we’d be in inverted poses, and I’d nearly spilled out of my top.
I stripped out of my professional clothes and dressed for yoga, then slung a small towel over my shoulder to mop up any sweat. The gym Layla and I went to provided yoga mats, so I didn’t have to worry about taking my own.
When I returned to the living room, Layla had changed into a pair of booty shorts and a tight black shirt that made her pale brown skin look luminous. I grabbed my jacket from behind the door. It might not be a long walk, but it wasn’t exactly warm outside.
“Aren’t you taking a sweater?” I asked, knowing she would freeze as soon as we set foot out the front door.
Like me, Layla was accustomed to milder weather.
Since moving to Chicago, she’d stubbornly worn shorts and skirts as much as possible despite the fact it was a whole lot colder here.
Maybe she thought if she was stubborn enough, the Chicago weather would improve.
“Yes, Mom.” She grabbed a cute pink sweater that was hanging over the sofa and pulled it on. “Happy?”
“Much better,” I teased, playing the part.
I checked that I had my keys, and together, we left the apartment. We took the elevator down to the street and walked the two blocks to the gym. There was a class in progress, so we joined the group outside waiting for it to end.
It was mostly women, although there were a couple of men who regularly attended and a handful of others who turned up every now and then.
Layla winked at one of the regulars, a handsome Black man with a great smile.
She’d been buttering him up for weeks, and at this point, I wasn’t sure whether she actually wanted a date or if she just enjoyed flirting with him.
“Ooh, he’s new,” Layla murmured, tilting her head toward a buff redhead with a man bun and full tattoo sleeves. “He’s looked over here twice already. I think he likes what he sees.”
I laughed and made a subtle motion toward the Black guy. “I thought you were interested in Sam.”
Layla rolled her eyes. “I didn’t mean he’s looking at me. He’s got his eyes on you.”
I glanced at the redhead again. As far as I could tell, he was completely unaware that I existed. “Uh-huh.”
Layla gave my shoulder a little push. “You’re so oblivious.”
The doors opened and we shuffled to the sides of the corridor as the participants from the last class filed out. The group around me surged in, everyone racing for the mats in an effort to claim spaces to the rear and sides of the room.
As usual, Layla and I were among the last to enter and ended up near the front of the class.
I didn’t mind that. Yoga was the one sport—if you considered it that—that I was any good at, and Layla didn’t care who looked at her, regardless of how well she could hold the poses.
Sometimes, I wished I could borrow her blasé attitude.
We unrolled our mats and laid them out lengthways. I sat in the center of mine and crossed my legs.
Layla flopped onto the one beside me and wriggled closer. “Ginger hottie is right behind you. I think he did that on purpose.”
My cheeks heated, and I pretended not to hear her.
I highly doubted that anyone as buff as that guy would be interested in me.
He probably wanted someone slim and toned.
I was fit, in my own way, but I’d never have visible abs or a tiny waist. My thighs were thick, my ass had plenty of heft, and my boobs might knock me out if I ever tried to run without them strapped firmly into place.
That was me, and I liked myself, but I wasn’t for everyone.
The instructor called the class to order and led us through a sun salutation. From there, we progressed into standing poses and then lowered ourselves onto the mat.
When she announced that it was time for us to try crow pose, Layla muttered something and shot me a look. I grinned back. I’d worked hard over the years to be able to do crow pose and I enjoyed being able to go straight into it as the instructor talked the class through the stages.
Hands on floor, tuck knees up behind elbows, shift weight onto hands, lift feet from the floor. Most people got stuck before they were able to lift their feet, but I’d perfected my balance and positioning and flowed into the pose without any trouble, supporting myself fully on my hands.
“Just like Chelsey,” the instructor said, beaming at me like a proud mama. “Excellent demonstration.”
I flushed again, but this time with pleasure. I enjoyed sports, but I’d never been particularly good at them, so it was nice to have found at least this one place where I could excel.
The class finished with a meditation. I was pleasantly warm and relaxed as I rolled my mat up afterward and returned it to the box near the door.
“Hey.” The muscular redhead was hovering behind me, smiling hesitantly.
“Hi,” I said back.
He rubbed the back of his neck and the corners of his eyes crinkled as his smile deepened. “You were amazing at that crow pose. I’m totally lost with it.”
Someone tried to get to the box, so I stepped aside and moved closer to the wall.
“Most people are at first,” I assured him. “It’s partly about arm strength, but I’m sure you have plenty of that. The rest of it is just about finding your balance and getting your legs in the right place. You’ll get there.”
He grinned and it brightened his face. “Maybe you could help me?”
“I’d be happy to, if you ever want to stay late after class. There are a few spots where we’d have enough space to practice.”
Layla tugged on my arm, and I waved to the guy and let her drag me away.
“What are you doing?” I asked when we were far enough away that he wouldn’t hear me.
She narrowed her eyes. “I think a better question is, what are you doing? He was trying to ask you out, not legitimately wanting advice on a yoga pose.”
I frowned. I hadn’t gotten that impression. “He wants to work on his crow.”
She snorted. “Oh, he wants to work on something, all right. It’s just that Matt Matthews wrecked your self-esteem so badly that you don’t think hot guys could be interested in you.
” She stopped walking, turned to face me, and grabbed my upper arms. “You are beautiful, Chelsey. Fucking stunning, actually. If you weren’t my best friend, I’d be jealous. ”
I looked around and noticed that we’d attracted some attention. “Can we not do this here?”
Layla’s hands dropped from my arms and she put them on her hips. “Fine, but you need to realize that you’re a catch.”
“I’ll try,” I said, feeling awkward as hell. “But I think you’re reading too much into things. I’m over all that stuff with Matt. It was a long time ago.”
“I call bullshit.”
I set my jaw. Why did I have to befriend someone who was like a pit bull once she got her teeth into something?
“Anyone would have been hurt by what he did to you,” Layla said, stubbornly digging in her heels. “Of course it affected you. You do remember what he said back then, right?”
“Technically, he didn’t say anything,” I pointed out.
“But he should have. And the fact he didn’t…”
Yeah. The lack of what he’d said was kind of the problem. I’d tolerated silence for too long, and when it came to him, I’d reached my limit.