Chapter 6
SIX
SUTTON
- Present Day -
“ S o let me get this straight. You drag me across the country, beg me to move in with you; then on your first official night off, rather than going out with me so I can show you the town, or helping me unpack while we binge takeout and Netflix, you bail to ‘go hang with the guys’?” I may or may not intentionally overemphasize the exasperation in my tone.
I can almost feel him wince over the line. Almost . And I grin.
“I’m sorry. I told them I had plans, but they’re insisting we need to go out for ‘team bonding’ or whatever. I didn’t know what to tell them. I don’t want to make a bad first impression.”
“Oh my god, Jonah. Stop. I’m kidding. Go hang out with your new teammates.
I know as well as anyone how important that ‘team bonding’ can be.
” I roll my eyes, and though he can’t see it, I know he can hear the genuine sarcasm in my tone.
Growing up with a hockey coach for a dad, I had been subjected to years and years of ‘team bonding’ experiences .
“Seriously, it’s fine. You go out and have fun. I’ll just stay in and work on unpacking or something. Really, it’s fine.”
“See, you say that, but when women say something is fine. . .” his voice trails off, weary hesitation lacing his tone.
I laugh. “Oh my god, Jonah. Seriously. It’s fine. We’re good . Seriously, go have fun!”
I hang up before he has a chance to respond or second-guess his decision further, tossing the phone on my bed. Well, damn. Now what do I do?
Hands on my hips, I take a look around the large space.
We’d been staying in a hotel for the first two weeks that we were here, until the apartment became available.
Movers had just finished unloading everything an hour ago, but thankfully they had dealt with all the furniture for the kitchen, living room, and our respective bedrooms. It’s just all the boxes that need to be dealt with at this point.
And with some good music and take-out, that’s something I know I can handle on my own.
The air is filled with a soft crackling of the record player as a haunting voice croons a song about love and loss.
The melody is entrancing, and I find myself getting lost in the melancholy melody as I sit on the l floor, surrounded by piles of odds and ends that are haphazardly stacked amidst half-empty boxes.
Out of habit, I find myself singing along, my voice rising until it carries throughout the echoing room.
For anyone else, having such a large living space that is empty enough to echo would be a nightmare.
For me? Well, it’s great acoustics that will enhance my work when I’m home, and I’m half-tempted to leave the space the way it is .
Goodness knows, Jonah isn’t going to be here enough to care.
At least, not during the season. And honestly, even when he is home, it’s not like he isn’t used to my breaking out into song at random intervals.
When your best friend is a songwriting major with a background in broadway theater, you would be naive to expect anything less honestly.
The song transitions, and I can’t help the distraction, falling into character on my hands and knees, letting myself get lost in the character’s past and memories that aren’t my own as I belt out the beautifully painful lyrics.
My voice belts out the bridge in a soulful cry as I grab for a book amidst the piles that I had just finished pulling out of a box, and flip through the pages as if I were searching for a spell to save my ill-fated love.
Shifting, I sit up on my knees and spin to the side, sliding a different handful of books onto a lower shelf while I continue to sing.
See, I can be somewhat productive and enjoy the music at the same time , I think in satisfaction.
I roll back, grabbing at another handful, this time standing and hugging them to my chest as I belt out the final words of the song, eyes shut closed tightly, and pull from the deepest parts of my soul, letting the emotional turmoil fill my voice before the notes soften and fade.
The next song starts to play, and I’m filled with a sense of contentment as I slide the books I’d been hugging onto another shelf.
Reality comes crashing down, startling me out of my thoughts however, as loud whooping cheers come from across the room, drowning out the now forgotten music playing in the background.
“Holy. . . shit, dude!’
One man silently gapes at me, while the other, who’s excitedly slapping Jonah on the back, grins over at me goofily.
“You didn’t tell us you had this incredibly talented beauty hiding back home.”
Scrambling to shut off the music, I nearly trip over a box, cursing under my breath as I try to dodge around it while making my way over to the record player. Ears burning, I just know they must be the brightest shade of red, as I turn to face my unexpected audience while still catching my breath.
My dear boyfriend (I have to remember to call him my boyfriend when we’re around other people, that was the deal, remember Sutton?) Jonah’s expression is sheepish, and there’s a slight flush to his cheeks as he gives me a small look that tells me he’s sorry for the audience.
I’m not upset that he saw me. He’s used to my crazy behavior.
But this wasn’t how I wanted to make my first impression in front of people that I’m assuming are his teammates.
The man with the grin steps forward, completely unfazed as he skirts around my maze of half-unpacked boxes still cluttering the floor.
“I’m Bash. And this here silent and brooding fucker is our fearless leader, Theo.”
Meeting him in the middle, I give his hand a firm shake before he pulls me into a bear-hug, and I freeze.
“No handshakes, we do hugs here.”
The other man, Theo, just makes a grunt behind him that sounds a bit skeptical, as if they do not , in fact, just ‘do hugs here’.
Well this is . . . something.
Not knowing how else to react, I awkwardly pat his back in acknowledgement, and his arms give me one final swaying squeeze before releasing me. Only then does he step back, giving me some desperately needed breathing room.
“Dude,” Bash turns to face Theo and Jonah, “you didn’t tell us that your ‘plans’ were actually a beautiful girl waiting back home for you. Seriously!” He glares over at Jonah.
And I can’t help but laugh.
“No, it’s okay, really. I was just settling in. I’m gonna put him to work tomorrow, though. So hopefully you didn’t ply him with too much alcohol. Working that hammer is gonna hurt like a bitch if you have a hangover.”
My tone is laced with innuendo, and I can’t help the smirk that crosses my face as Bash laughs.
“I like her!” He turns to me, throwing an arm casually over my shoulder. “I like you!”
“Uh. . . thanks.”
“Bash, Theo, this is my girl, Sutton. Baby Girl, these are the guys. Well, Bash and Theo anyway. Theo is Captain and -”
I cut him off, interrupting with “Captain and star left defenseman. Meanwhile Bash transferred from the Calgary Cougars, and now that he’s joined up with Theo again, the long anticipated ‘Slick’ and ‘Tricky’ are back together to dominate on the ice.”
The three men just gape at me. And then Bash smiles once more. Theo just stares, still not saying much.
“Did you lie to me, Farley? I thought you still hated hockey?”
Jonah’s shock is not surprising. I don’t follow hockey anymore, and I’ve made my opinion of the hockey players I have encountered over the years very clear to him. And why I cut off all ties to my hockey past. Jonah is my one exception to that rule. The only exception .
Bash’s hands are on my shoulders now, and he is staring at me intently. “Wait, Sutty! You hate hockey?” His voice is incredulous and comes out in a higher pitch, the shocked outrage showing.
“Hey!”
We both startle at the firm tone of Jonah snapping at him.
“I’m the only one who gets to call her Sutty. It’s ‘Sutton’ to you. And hands off my girl, fucker.” His glare is real as he stares down his teammate.
“Jonah. . . It’s okay.”
My voice is soft, my words only for him.
Jonah knows how I feel about that nickname.
After the shit that happened in high school, I’m still very sensitive about nicknames.
And unfortunately for me, my parents never thought to think about nicknames prior to having me.
It never occurred to them how easily one can go from “Sutty” to “Slutty” or “Sutton” to “Slutton”.
Nor did it occur to them just how cruel teenagers can be.
Jonah wasn’t there, but I have opened up to him about all the things that happened during my time back in school.
Especially my senior year. The year that should have been my triumph instead became a living hell.
The second I had the chance, I didn’t hesitate for a moment to say goodbye to the small town I once called home for good.
And I haven’t looked back since. At least, not until now.
Jonah knows all this. Hell, he was with me through the worst of it and he’s sensitive to the fact that being back here was going to bring up my past, dig up some raw emotions that years of therapy never quite helped me get over no matter how deeply I tried to bury them.
And having anyone else use that nickname, even in a lighthearted and teasing manner, is just a little too much for me still.
Jonah, who had been standing next to Theo, wastes no time as he moves to get closer; I blink and suddenly he’s by my side, arm slipping over my shoulders, not-so-subtly forcing Bash’s out of the way.
“Sorry, man.” Bash raises his hands in the air, face placating. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”
I watch in silence as he throws a bemused look over to Theo, who walks forward to stand next to him.
“Looks like we have another overprotective mother-fucker on our team; territorial over his girl.”
“It’s not like that-” I go to say, but Theo just laughs, shaking his head.
“Nah, it’s all good. We’re just all a little overprotective when it comes to our ladies.” He grins, and his smile is blinding as he looks over at Jonah and myself .
“You two are gonna fit in great.” Nodding in my direction, he continues. “You should come to the game this week. You can meet the girls.”
By ‘the game’, I assume he’s referring to the season opener that is going to be happening at the end of this coming week.
“Speaking of, let’s circle back for a minute, shall we?
” Bash places one hand on Theo’s shoulder, the other resting over his heart as if he is having chest pain.
“Please tell me what Newbie here said isn’t true?
You don’t hate hockey, do you?” His look is pleading as he bats his gorgeous lashes over at me.
I laugh again, shaking my head.
“It’s not that. My dad is - er, was - actually a youth hockey coach and I grew up surrounded by the sport.
But I-” I hesitate, unsure if I should continue.
“Well, let’s just say, I’ve had more than my fair share of over-inflated egotistical hockey jocks in my life, and for my own sanity, had to cut out the sport altogether. ”
Bash grimaces in sympathy, before giving me a small, knowing look.
“Until our boy, Jonah, here. Huh?” His eyebrows wag suggestively.
“Yeah, well. . . what can I say? He wormed his way under my skin and refused to leave, so. . . “ I shrug, and Jonah squeezes my shoulder reassuringly, while hugging me into his side in a playful, almost teasing way that a boyfriend I guess would do for his girlfriend. . . Since that’s what we’re supposed to be , I remind myself.
“Damn right, I did. You know you love me.”
I roll my eyes at his cocky attitude.
“Yeah, yeah. If you say so.”
He places a peck on my cheek, and this time, my smile is genuine.
“Admit it. ”
“Alright, damn you. You already know the answer, why do you need me to say it?”
Leaning down, he whispers in my ear, so that only I can hear. “Please, Farley? For the guys?”
I huff, but my annoyance is only surface-level; and when I speak, I drag the words out slowly, in a cloylingly-too-sweet tone.
“Yes, Jonah, dearest. I do love you.”
“Awe! Look how sweet they are!” Bash is leaning into Theo, speaking in a fake-whisper of his own. Turning back to us, he continues, “You two are just adorable. I think you’re going to fit right in.”
My mouth opens and closes. I’m not sure how to respond. These guys are going to be Jonah’s teammates, his friends. Hopefully for a long time. Unease fills my gut at the thought of having to live out a lie. I bite my lip, shaking my head, but before I can say anything, Bash cuts off my response.
“Well, we’re gonna go. . . Let you two lovebirds get. . . settled in and all. Jonah, we’ll see you at practice on Monday.”
And with that, they leave. Leaving me with a guilt-ridden conscience, a fake boyfriend draped against my side, and a room full of half-empty boxes.