Chapter 2 #3
“There’s no misunderstanding. You’re a misogynistic prick who seems to forget who the hell I am and who raised me. I may not be a professional hockey player, Sean, but I can sure the fuck skate circles around you.”
“Hannah!” Carter yells, wearing a scowl with his arms crossed. “Meet me in my office. We have some things to discuss.”
Skating toward the boards, I snatch up my water bottle and take a drink, then start to exit the ice, wishing like hell Sean didn’t always bring out the worst in me.
“Just so we’re clear,” Sean calls out behind me, his voice causing me to freeze. “The comment I made earlier wasn’t meant for you; I was talking to Aiden. You’re right, he’s weak on his left side.”
Spine stiffening and both hands gripping the boards, I stand at the exit, but I don’t turn to face him. After everything he’s put me through, the last thing I want is to feel bad for cutting him down. I take a step out of the rink, and he drives the knife deeper.
“And I haven’t been with anyone since you.”
“Yeah? Well, there’s been plenty since you,” I lie.
Does he honestly expect me to believe that in the course of a year, I’m the only one he’s been with? What a crock of shit.
After stripping off my skates, I leave without a word and follow Carter to his office, taking a seat across from his desk. Resting back with my arms crossed, I wait for what I already know is coming. The door clicks shut before he rounds the desk and plops down in his chair.
“I allow you to work with Aiden because you’re good—more than good.
You have an eye that most don’t. And with your dad away on his honeymoon, it’s been nice to have someone who’s had a lifetime of his training and knows what she’s talking about, but if you’re gonna come down onto my ice and put doubt into my player’s head, you can stay upstairs. ”
His face blurs as tears begin to sting the back of my eyelids. I press my fingertips to my eyes, then take a deep breath and school my expression.
“Jesus, Hannah,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “What you said out there might take me weeks to undo. Do you realize that?”
“Yes, and I’m sorry. Not for what I said to him because he’s a jerk and deserved it no matter how untrue what I said might’ve been. But I’m sorry if I made your job harder.”
“I know you’re hurt, and you don’t want to hear this, but it’s been months.”
In other words, it’s time to move on. Well, that’s easy for him to say, considering the universe hands everything to him on a silver platter.
Oh, you’re in love with River? Here . . .
how about you wake up married to her. You want a Stanley Cup?
Here’s three . . . four if you count this year’s trophy as a coach.
You want a baby? Why settle for one? You can have twins!
I love Carter to death; I do, but how dare he? He has no idea all the shit I’m going through. Not that I’ve been open with anything, but still.
“This subject is off limits,” I say, standing up and striding to the door.
“Before you go, I’m gonna tell you the same thing I tell my players: keep your drama and personal life off my ice.”
Fuming, I storm out of his office and head back to mine to grab my purse and keys.
Aspen, my new stepsister and boss, pokes her head in the door. “Oh good. I’m glad I caught you. Can you grab me something from the Burger Joint and bring it back?”
“Of course. What do you want?” I ask, even though I’d prefer to go anywhere but there.
As if today isn’t screwing me over enough already, she’s sending me to the one place that was mine and Sean’s spot. Not that she knows that and not as if he and I ever ate inside like a normal couple. We had to get creative with our dates so my dad wouldn’t find out about us.
“Anything. I’m starving,” she responds, offering me a sweet smile as she leaves to go back to her office.
Thirty minutes later, I stroll out of the Burger Joint with mine and Aspen’s lunch, doing my best to hold it together. Peeking into the bag to make sure everything’s there, I find fries at the bottom.
Bag fries.
It’s the simplest thing that triggers a memory of the good times. I try to avoid it at all costs, and then . . . Bam! A song comes on the radio. I catch a whiff of a passerby, wearing the same cologne as him. I find one of his shirts in the back of my closet.
And then . . . there’s bag fries.
“Stop stealing my fries, Sean!”
“Bag fries are free game.” He winks, reaching into the bag and popping another crinkle fry into his mouth.
Snatching the paper sack away from him, I dump the rest of the fries onto the burger wrapper laying across my lap, then rest back against the door with my legs crossed under me. “Now they’re not bag fries anymore.”
I pluck one up and have it halfway to my mouth when he leans over and takes a bite.
“Mmm. Tastes so much better when you’re feeding them to me,” he teases, pressing a chaste kiss to my lips.
Leaning into the steering wheel, I rest my forehead against my crossed arms as tears silently fall down my cheeks and drip onto my lap. A staggering breath escapes my lungs, and I squeeze my eyes tight, pushing the memory of our impromptu picnic in his truck out of my mind.
I can’t do this anymore.
Carter’s right . . . It’s time to move on.