FIFTEEN #2
Emerald’s words, trying to comfort me after I was being a stubborn ass after the loss, settle in my mind. I’m not the entire team; I do my part out there, but it’s up to others to do theirs.
Coach clears his throat and speaks up, “But the main reason for this meeting is to discuss the future—the near future.”
My gut turns on itself, and my hands curl into fists, knowing what’s coming.
“As you know, Hayden, we have Chicago next week—”
Despite knowing, my eyes still widen at the sheer fucking audacity . Ruby looks at him for a long moment before cackling, cutting off his words.
“Oh, that has to be a joke! I’m sorry, are you trying to get my client to come back and play hockey when his wife is recovering in the hospital after an assault on these grounds? You have to be fucking kidding me.”
“That’s—no, that’s not what we’re saying,” Doug sputters, holding up his hands as if Ruby is a wild, snarling animal and he’s a cornered bunny. “But, Hayden, you have a contract—”
“—I am Hayden’s agent and— ”
Doug’s eyes widen at her words, and he turns to me. “What happened to Rick?”
“I fired him,” I say, my hackles rising at the displeased look on Doug’s face.
“Why?”
Ruby doesn’t give me a chance to answer him, not that I was going to. I know Doug and Rick were close friends, but it’s none of his concern. He can text Rick himself to find out just why I fired him.
“As I was saying,” Ruby says, her voice razor sharp. Doug looks back at her, but flinches at the look on her face. He’s sweaty, his forehead shining under the fluorescent lights of this gaudy office.
“I am Hayden’s agent, and I am also an attorney with Silver & Silver, and, gentlemen, I have to say, my bosses have been having quite a time with what I’ve given them.”
Doug pales even more.
Coach looks like he'd rather be anywhere but here.
And something occurs to me, like it’s been latent in my mind but finally shaken free.
“Rick told a security guard to make sure my wife got to her car safely,” I speak up, my gaze bouncing back and forth between the men in front of me. “I watched the footage from the assault. He didn’t check on her. No one came to check on her, to make sure she was safe.”
“Uh...” Doug blinks, looking almost thankful for the distraction. “Which security guard?”
I think of that man’s face—tall, blonde, brawny, looking bored out of his mind.
“I’m not sure of his name, but I could recognize him,” I say. “He was near the locker room.”
“We—er—we can look up who was— ”
I sigh, defeated, knowing that it’s not really going to make a difference. If he didn’t go check but just said he did, then Rick lied to me. If the security guard actually checked and didn’t see her, then came back to tell Rick he didn’t, then Rick still lied to me.
And I listened instead of checking for myself.
Because the fact of the matter is that I, her husband, didn’t follow her to apologize or beg for forgiveness after publicly berating her.
I glance down at my hands, and they’re red with Emerald’s blood. Still. Always.
“My wife was attacked,” I say, quietly.
The room goes silent. Even the phones have stopped ringing outside at the secretaries' desks. It’s like the entire world is holding its breath at the tone in my voice. Doug’s mouth snaps closed, and Coach leans back in his chair like he wants to put distance between us.
“Stalked. Beaten bloody. And stomped on like she was a fucking bug!”
My voice climbs to a roar by the last words, and I realize I’ve sat forward in my chair. From the way the men in front of me have shrunk into their seats, I must look as unhinged as I feel.
“Hayden,” Doug says, calmly, swallowing once. “You have to know how sorry we are about that.”
“She was almost killed, you know that? He thought he had killed her. She almost froze to death.”
Coach Peter’s face falls at that, and he glances down at his hand, twirling the gold wedding band. Doug looks at him for help, but I continue on.
“He punched her right in the face,” I curl my hand into a fist and hold it up, really showing how big my fist is, how big they can picture it against Emerald’s face. They’ve met her, they know how small she is.
I slam my fist into the desk in front of me.
The men in front of me jump back, startled.
The woman next to me purses her lips but doesn’t move.
A cracking sound fills the room, and it’s not my knuckles, even though the small cuts have reopened and I’ve slammed my hand down hard enough to hurt. It’s a nice desk, real wood, expensive no doubt, and I’m thinking about slamming Doug Murphy’s head into it.
“What if it was Katherine, Coach?” I ask, gesturing to him, still fiddling with his wedding ring. My own band feels like it’s burning mine.
After a long moment, Coach Peter nods his head.
“What do you need, Hayden?”
“Pete, I—”
“Shut the fuck up, Doug,” Coach says, shooting him a look that makes the younger man snap his mouth closed.
“I want a break,” I say. “I’m not playing until Emerald recovers fully—physically and mentally.”
“You are contracted to play—” Doug starts, but Ruby cuts in.
“And I think these circumstances can override any contract,” Ruby snaps, her gaze hardening and daring him to object.
“We...” Doug trails off, finding no help from the man next to him. Sighing in defeat, he nods and turns to his computer, typing a few things. “We can do that. How long are you thinking, Hayden?”
“Till Emerald recovers fully.”
Doug looks at me like he’s waiting for me to say more. “So... months? ”
“A year,” I shrug. “Maybe more if she needs it.”
“A year?!” Doug exclaims, eyes wide, face going pale once more.
Coach looks nauseous.
“At least. ”
Ruby’s phone buzzes. The second she unlocks the screen, her entire body goes still. The air in the room changes when Ruby shows me.
I read it once. Twice. Three times. The picture makes it hard to deny.
HOCKEY WIFE HORROR
Boston Bullies Star Hayden “Haymaker” Sawyer’s Wife Seen brUTALIZED in Hospital Bed After FAN ATTACK — EXCLUSIVE PHOTO
My hands shake.
The attached exclusive photo shows Emerald sleeping in her hospital bed.
The rainbow blanket is wrapped around her, but it offers no protection from whoever fucking snuck into her room to take this picture.
I even see part of Linda sitting next to Emerald, meaning they took it right in front of her.
She would never have allowed that, though.
How?
How could this have happened? Someone violated her privacy, took a photo, and sold it to a trashy fucking news outlet. Exposing my wife for the world to poke and prod and view like an animal in a zoo.
I’ve felt rage before.
When my father tried to put his hands on Emerald because he would never allow anyone—let alone a woman—to talk back to him.
I felt the desire to kill him that night .
But this? This is past rage.
This is a quiet, precise, numb type of fury.
I don’t see red, I see clearly.
I’m fucking done.
Hockey.
Boston.
All of it can go to hell.
I think about the first time Emerald watched me step onto the ice as a professional player, back in Minnesota.
I was twenty-one, shaking and trying not to let it show.
Then I glanced up into the stands and all my anxiety flowed out of my body.
Because there she was. Cheering loudly for me and wearing my jersey.
I think of that game in college with Emerald wearing my name on her back for the first time, and how badly I wanted that to be true.
Playing professional hockey and Emerald.
Both my deepest wishes came true through effort, consistency, sacrifice, and pure devotion.
And I would give up the first a million times over because now I’m choosing Emerald like I always should have.
I lift my eyes to Doug.
“Release me.”
Ruby looks surprised by my words for a brief moment, but not displeased.
Doug and Peter stare at me as I’ve just detonated a bomb in the middle of their office. Ruby shows them her phone, the photo, the news article, and the spectacle. Coach actually looks sympathetic, and Doug just looks like he’s about to have a heart attack from stress.
“Hayden— ”
“Release me,” I snarl through clenched teeth, my gaze on Doug, who audibly swallows. “I don’t care how you fucking do it, I don’t care how much fucking money we lose. Mark these words for the record—I will never play hockey for this town ever again. ”