Chapter 30
NICO
I’ve been playing like shit. Racking up stupid penalties left and right like I’ve forgotten the rules of hockey. And while it can feel good to exercise some rage on the ice, taking a pop to the mouth for snowing the goalie doesn’t. I didn’t do it on purpose, but that makes no difference.
There’s a code. I broke it, and I deserved that bloody lip.
I should have been paying attention, but my head’s been out of it the last two games.
Ever since Granny’s funeral and the subsequent spectacle in the backyard that ended with Jo literally running away, I haven’t been able to concentrate.
After yet another terrible game on my part, Coach corners me in the locker room. “You need to get your fucking shit together. You’re playing like it’s fucking peewee out there.”
“I know, Coach. I’ll do better.”
“Show me,” he commands before storming off, and I throw my helmet at the wall.
“Fuck!”
With the trade deadline looming a little more than a month away, there’s been talk.
Of course, my name is everywhere. But with Rovie’s lingering injury, they might want to trade him for fresh legs.
That doesn’t mean they’d keep me, but I’ve been trying—and failing lately—to show them I am a key player.
That I can step up. I have before when he was out, and I’m well acquainted with our type of play.
But it’s all about money and who they could get to put us into the best position for play-offs.
And I can’t really stop them from making any decision. No matter how naively I believed that to be true.
“What’s going on?” Sheffy asks, his gear already halfway stripped off, and I slump onto the bench.
“I don’t know, man. My head’s all over the place.”
“Still haven’t talked to Jo?”
I shake my head, and Cubby butts in. “What happened?”
“We broke up…I think.”
“What do you mean, you think?”
“Just what I fucking said! I think we broke up.”
Cubby holds up his hands in innocence. “Just tryna help. Don’t have to bite my head off, eh?”
But my outburst has caught the attention of Davey and Bombay, who asks, “This have anything to do with that trip you took the other day?”
I swipe my hands over my sweat-slicked hair. “Jo’s great-grandmother died, and I went to be there for her, but we got into an argument. With her family.”
Davey props his foot up on the bench. “You can’t fight with the in-laws. It never works out well.”
“What if they treat Jo like shit? What do you expect me to do then?”
“Fight for her honor,” JP says from his spot across from me, although his accent makes it sound like it’s some kind of poetic justice instead of the shitshow that took place.
“I did, and she ran away. Literally ran out of her house, and then her dad kicked me out because I called him an asshole. Among other things.”
Bombay winces. “How do you come back from that?”
“I have no idea. We eventually talked, but she said she needed time.” I set my elbows on my knees. “She doesn’t think we belong together. Never thought anyone would believe it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bombay asks, completely naked and dick swinging.
“We’ve been faking it this whole time.” I don’t realize what I said until the locker room goes silent.
“You faked what?” someone shouts from the other end, blinking me back into reality, and I glance over to Sheffy for help. He only nods, a silent direction to tell the truth.
So I toss a towel at Bombay. “Cover up. I can’t talk about this while your dick’s hanging out.”
He wraps it around his waist then motions for me to go on, so I take a deep breath and explain, “Jo and I aren’t really engaged.
I barely knew her before I knocked her out, but she needed help to get her family off her back and I needed the front office to believe I wasn’t spreading STIs around the greater Philadelphia area, so we agreed to pretend for a few months. ”
Some of my teammates laugh, some curse, some call me a dumb fucking idiot.
But it’s Cubby who says, “I thought you loved her. Like, legit loved her.”
“I do. I do love her. Not at first, but I do now, and I can’t let her go.”
“What about the front office?” Buss asks, and I shrug.
“I don’t know. I don’t care at this point.
If they want to trade me because of how I used to act, then fine.
If they don’t know the difference between somebody who’s trying to be a good guy and a piece of shit, I guess I don’t want to be on the team anyway.
Might as well send me back to Florida where we were all pieces of shit. ”
“So, let me get this straight,” Davey says, glaring at me. “You pretended to be engaged to play some kind of game to save your career?”
“Well, when you put it like that, you make me sound like a dick.”
“You are a dick,” someone mutters, earning a few chuckles.
“Fuck you,” I mumble back.
It’s Rovie who crosses the locker room to hold out his hand.
He’s a veteran player, one hell of a winger, and a dedicated husband and dad.
He’s also, in theory, my direct competition on this team.
But he holds out his hand to me, and in his thick Russian accent says, “You want her back? We will help you get her back. Hockey is short time, but love is forever.”
Cubby presses his hand to his heart. “That should go on a card.”
Rovie rolls his eyes at him. “Pussy.”
Everyone laughs. Even me.
“So what do I do?” I ask, and Buss stands to strip off his hockey pants.
“Never had to woo a girl, huh?”
“No.”
Buss snorts in amusement. “Uncharted territory for ya. Don’t worry, buddy, we’ll help.”
“You’re gonna help him? Aren’t you a virgin?” Bombay teases, and they tussle for a few seconds before Sheffy whistles through his broken tooth. It’s always so loud. “Hey, hey. We gotta help Nico get his groove back, so who’s got ideas?”
They all start coming, one after another.
“Chocolates.”
“Diamonds.”
“A car.”
“A trip.”
“A good fuck.”
“A weekend of good fucking.”
“You can’t dickmatize her.”
“I could.”
“Jesus, Bombay, put yours away. We’re trying to have a serious conversation here.”
I sigh, dropping my head between my shoulders, all of this feeling useless, and slowly, my teammates drop the thread of the conversation to shower and change. It’s what I should be doing too, but Davey takes the space next to me. “I think you’re a fucking jackass for what you did.”
“Yeah. You and a lot of other people, including me.”
“But if you really love her, then you need to figure out what she’s scared of and show her you can protect her from it. Show her you won’t do that thing or be that person.”
“That what you did for your wife?”
He shakes his head. “That’s what she did for me.” When I lift my brow in question, he says, “Everyone in my life has always taken from me. I came to expect it. Didn’t trust anyone. But she gave. And gave and gave until there was nothing left for me to do but accept.”
Then he stands with a pat to my shoulder as if it’s so simple.
But maybe it could be.
Maybe if I start being honest with myself, I can start being honest with her.
So she’d finally know in her heart that when I choose her, I mean it.