Chapter 47
Forty-Seven
Gray
“You’re not here,” I groan, gripping the edge of my hotel room door, preparing to slam it shut.
“I’m here. Suck it up.”
Then I’m being shoved back and Leo’s striding into my room, bottles of beer clanking together as he sets them on the dresser, dropping the box of pizza beside them.
“What are you doing?”
He toes off his shoes, snags a slice and a beer then drops back onto the bed. “You’ve pissed off Smitty—congratulations on that, by the way. That might have been the first quiet flight we’ve had since he was traded to the team.”
I scowl, but since Leo seems to be settling in for the long haul, let the door slam shut.
Then, because it’s there—and because I skipped the team dinner Smitty organized—I walk over to the pizza and beer and help myself.
Leo doesn’t speak as I eat a slice. Then two more.
As I drink a beer. Then two more.
Only after I’ve finished does he ask, “You sufficiently satiated now to not bite my head off?”
I glare at him.
He just grins, helps himself to more food and drink.
I eat another slice, drink another beer.
“Am I turning on Parking Wars?” he asks. “Or are you?”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“I’m here with your dumb ass instead of bingeing crappy TV in my room so the least you can do is let me watch my favorite hotel show.”
“You have a hotel show?”
He snags the last slice of pizza. “What? You don’t?”
“I usually just watch shit on my phone,” I mutter as he picks up the remote, feeling overly full and a little buzzed and far less edgy as he turns on the TV.
“Lame. Middle of the night cable TV has some serious gems.”
“Like Parking Wars?” I ask as he pulls up the guide, inputs the channel…and then I’m lying in bed next to my teammate, watching people get parking tickets.
“Why is this entertaining?”
“It’s Philly,” he says by way of explanation.
And I guess, after having played against Philly, it is.
“So,” he says several episodes later, “you want to talk about it?”
I go stiff. “Leo,” I warn. “I already got this shit from Smitty. I don’t need to hear it from you.”
“You going to fix it?”
I think of the hurt in Faye’s eyes as I walked away and pain slices through me, so intense that when I look down, I expect to see my intestines spilling out onto the bed.
Instead, I appear whole—but that’s the biggest lie I’ve ever told.
Fuck, I miss her with every breath, every heartbeat. I want to call her, beg her for another chance…
But then I think of all the ways I fucked up.
I think of her face when she heard her book was pulled.
I think of those goddamned headlines.
I think—
“I’m thinking maybe it’s better I don’t fix it.”
“That mean you won’t care if I ask Faye out?”
I move before I realize, clamping my hand around his throat and slamming him back into the headboard. “What the fuck, Leo?”
He just smirks. “I’m guessing that’s a no.”
“Fuck you,” I snap, releasing him with a shove.
“If you don’t claim her, someone else will,” he rightfully points out.
That doesn’t make my rage at the thought of him touching my Faye, talking to her, touching her go away, though.
“Relax,” he says when I keep scowling at him, “I prefer blondes.”
I’m still seeing red. My Red. But his words pull me together enough that I remember the caterer, Harper.
Who’s blonde.
Right.
“Oh,” I mutter.
“Exactly,” he says, still smirking, totally nonplussed that I drank most of his beer, ate most of his pizza, then tried to strangle him. “Oh.”
I grind my teeth together, focus on the TV.
“Look, man. I don’t presume to know what the hell happened between you two or what you need to do to fix it or honestly, even if you should fix it, considering the media storm around you, but I’m thinking the way you reacted means that you and Faye aren’t done.”
I open my mouth.
Close it.
Because what the fuck am I going to say?
He’s right?
He is.
And he isn’t.
The thought of Faye with someone else is unfathomable. No, it’s infuriating. It makes me want to rip the TV from the wall, flip the bed, throw the lamp, to do a complete rockstar trashing of this room…and then to get on the ice tomorrow and make every single asshole on the other team pay.
And yet, they thought of being with her, of dragging her further into this mess, repeating the same mistakes…hurting her again and again…
“I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing,” I admit, even as the words burn like acid coming off my tongue.
Leo is quiet for a long moment before he sighs.
“Then I guess you have two weeks to get your head together. But man,” he adds as he walks to the door, his footsteps on the carpet as heavy as my heart, “think about what kind of decisions she can make in two weeks…and whether she’ll even want you in her life by then. ”
Then I’m alone again.
Only it’s the last thing I want.
“Fuck!” I hiss as the stick comes across my hands, sending pain radiating up my arms and the puck squirting away.
Not for the first time tonight.
If I’m being truthful, I’ve been fucking useless.
Not a captain.
Not a player the other guys look up to, bringing energy they strive to match.
A fuck up.
Tonight.
No.
For the last week.
Gritting my teeth, I shove everything out of my head except for trying to recover the puck.
I skate hard, driving into the fucker who stole it from me, taking it back.
I don’t try to hold on to it long, instead shoveling it over to Leo, knowing his head isn’t fucked-up—or at least his head isn’t fucked-up enough to screw with his game.
He skates it into the zone and I don’t join the rush.
Instead, I get my ass off the ice and let someone better take my place.
Which is pretty much anyone else on the bench.
Smitty eyes me as I sink down, his expression screaming disappointment. But it’s not stronger than the shame that’s been eating me alive.
The headlines on repeat in my head.
Proof of the hurt I caused.
Broken promises…
And history repeating itself.
Smitty sighs but doesn’t comment. Just shakes his head and hops over the boards, taking his next shift and doing it a fuck of a lot better than I did out there.
Leo passes the puck over to Aiden, who drops it back to Sawyer at the point.
The crack of his stick hitting the ice is loud and the shot tears through the air, ricocheting off pads and players and eventually, Aiden’s stick in front of the net, redirecting it in one final fuck you to the goalie on the other team, who’s been struggling to track it through the chaos.
It sails into the net, slipping between pad and glove, and the red light goes on.
And the Grizzlies are up by a goal.
And the hometown crowd boos.
And still…I can’t push down the shame.
Or the knowledge that I’ve ruined the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
It’s not until we’re in Boston, my sorry ass in my hotel room trying to sleep on the mattress that feels lumpy (but isn’t), attempting to get comfortable on the pillow that’s feels too thick (but isn’t), wanting to watch Parking Wars because at least that’ll distract me (but it’s not on TV—or I can’t find it, anyway) that I finally turn on my cell.
I’ve kept it off—not wanting to be tempted…
And it’s not like Faye has texted me.
Why would she?
I broke up with her.
But now, after my phone boots up, it’s her name that pops up on the screen.
Heart twisting, fingers shaking, I tap at the notification.
FAYE: I’ve moved my stuff out and left your key on the counter.
Everything in me seizes, pain rippling through my insides.
I mean…what did I expect?
But also—
“Fuck,” I hiss sitting up straight and shoving a hand through my hair, clutching at the locks.
This is what I said I wanted—or if it’s not what I wanted then it’s what I had to do. Because it’s what’s best for Faye.
Sighing, I toss my phone aside.
Don’t respond.
Let her move on.
Don’t drag her back into the bullshit, that’s my fucked-up ability to ruin good things, that’s—
Buzz. Buzz.
FAYE: Thank you for being so kind.
Strands of silken red hair spread on my pillow.
Banana bread crumbs on her cheek.
Her beautiful laugh tinkling through the air.
FAYE: I’ve decided to not rebuild. It’s…nothing’s left for me there. I just wanted you to know.
My lungs freeze, not working for so long that my vision starts to go hazy, black intruding on the edges.
It was bad enough Smitty was giving me shit and Aiden was looking at me like I was an idiot and Leo was telling me he might ask Faye out because I need to be prepared for some other guy to see how great she is and snap her up.
But…
Not being able to make sure she’s okay just next door, not being able to make sure that man is treating her right…
Not being able to be certain she’s happy and safe and secure…
“Fuck,” I whisper, throat tight, eyes burning, stomach tying itself into knots. The silence of the room is overbearing, stifling…but not as stifling as my thoughts.
I can’t allow her to move.
I can’t lose her completely.
But…I can’t keep her either.
Because if I do—
I close my eyes as pain slices through me, stealing my breath…but not taking the most agonizing thought of all—
That it doesn’t matter what I want…
I’ve already lost her.