Chapter Nine
Phoenix
Being benched is a motherfucker. I'm also fully aware that I deserve every second of it. But by the time the game is over on Wednesday, I'm ready to crawl out of my skin. We lost. Big time.
Like Cara said the other night, though…that's on me.
I think the team knows it, too. They're all subdued in the locker room, going through the motions without the usual post-game chaos. Even Corey is quiet, staring into space like his mind is a million miles away.
I watch him for a long moment while I dress, trying to slot into place everything Cara said about him. How the fuck she knows so much, I don't know. But I don't think she's necessarily wrong, either.
I've always known that he's not really into her.
At least, not the way I am. Is he jealous?
I don't know. Maybe Cara has him pegged to a T.
But…I think she missed the thing that was right in front of her face.
If he's jealous, it's not because I'm reaching for what I want when he can't. It's that the thing I want—the person I want—is fucking perfect.
Cara is everything. And I'm guessing he regrets not falling for a woman like her instead of one who put him through hell.
"Yo, Michaud."
I glance up, surprised to find him standing in front of me, his hands shoved into his pockets, looking like he's got something to say. The rest of the team is dead silent, watching us like they aren't sure whether to intervene or let this play out.
"What?"
"You got a minute?"
I hesitate for a split second and then mutter a curse. "Yeah, I've got a minute. What's up?"
Corey jerks his head toward the door, motioning for me to follow him.
I haul myself upright, adjusting my tie before striding after him.
"Don't kill each other," someone mutters half a second before the door swings closed behind me.
Neither Corey nor I say anything as we navigate the hall. It's too crowded for whatever conversation is about to go down. Instead, we head for the player exit, stepping out into the garage.
He stops several feet from security, leaning up against the side of the arena. For a long moment, he doesn't say anything, and then he mutters a curse. "I just wanted to say that I shouldn't have said the shit I did the other day," he says. "I took it too far."
"Yeah, you did." I stare out into the night. "But I'm not fucked up about what you said, Simms. I'm used to you running your mouth. It's the fact that you put your hands on her that pissed me off."
"I know. I took it too far," he mutters. "You want the truth?"
I jerk my chin in a nod.
"I think I wanted you to hit me. I've been spoiling for a good fight for months. You looked willing to deliver, so I pushed the buttons I knew would get you there." He laughs without humor. "How's that for self-reflection and growth?"
"Kinda fucked," I grunt.
"Yeah." He tips his head back, his eyes closed. "She's good for you, Michaud. You aren't nearly as fucking boring with her around." His lips twitch. "You're breaking all kinds of rules now. I like it."
"I've always broken rules."
He snorts. "Motherfucker, you've never broken a rule in your life. You've been too goddamn busy trying to skate in Papa Michaud's ruts to break a rule."
"I'm not trying to be my father."
"Oh, I'm aware." He laughs without humor again. "Your dad actually knew how to fucking live. The only place you've ever existed has been on the ice." He turns his head, pegging me with an amused smirk. "Shit is different now, isn't it?"
"Yeah," I mutter, blowing out a breath. "Fuck, yeah, it is."
His smirk grows. "If you fuck up with her, just remember that I'll be lurking in the background, waiting to swoop in and steal her."
I look at him for a moment—really look. There are dark shadows beneath his eyes and lines of tension around his mouth. Even with that smirk on his face, he looks drained, like he's been putting on a show for too fucking long and the mask is slipping.
"No, you won't," I say, more confident of that fact in this moment than ever before. Cara was right. Whoever broke his heart still has him all fucked up in the head. He isn't over it. I'm guessing he never really will be. But that's not my business, so I let it go.
"Are we good?" he asks. "Because, gotta say, riding the fucking bench is a bitch. I'd prefer not to keep doing this shit just because you've turned into an unhinged psychopath over your girl."
"You going to keep your hands to yourself?"
"You going to hit me again if I don't?"
"Every fucking time," I promise.
"Figured as much." He grins, flashing his dimples. "I'll try to keep my hands to myself."
"You do that," I say, turning to head back inside.
"Hey."
I pause, glancing over my shoulder at him.
"Don't fuck up with her, Michaud," he says, more seriously than I've ever heard him. "She's one of the good ones. Hold on to that shit and don't let it go. Trust me when I say you'll spend a lifetime in hell if you lose her."
I stare at him for a moment, a question on the tip of my tongue. But I see the regret in his eyes and bite it back, refusing to pry. "I'll remember that," I say instead. "You good, man?"
"Yep." He grins. "Always, motherfucker."
I'm not entirely sure I believe him, but I'm not entirely sure I'm the asshole he wants to pour his heart out to, either. "See you inside."
"Yeah." He leans back against the building again, closing his eyes. "See you inside."
By the time I get to the hotel, it's late, but I still dial Cara's number, desperate to hear her voice.
"Hello?" she answers on the second ring, sounding half asleep.
"Shit. Did I wake you, baby?"
"No," she lies through a yawn. "I was awake."
She definitely wasn't. She was probably out cold, but I love her for lying to me about it. Fuck, I love her period. Every day, I fall a little harder. At this point, I'm not sure there is a bottom. I'm in a freefall with no end in sight.
I scoot back against the headboard, the phone clutched to my ear.
"I'm sorry you guys lost tonight," she murmurs.
I smile a little, thrilled that she watched even if I was on the bench the whole damn game.
We both know she wasn't watching because her job requires it.
Does she even realize that she's in love with me yet?
God, I hope she does. I hope she knows exactly what's happening to her and why.
I want her to feel it. I want her to sit with it.
I want her absolutely certain that this is what she wants.
I reached that point days ago—right about the time she showed up on my doorstep.
"It's all good, baby. We'll win the next one."
"You're still benched," she says, worry in her voice.
"Yeah, but we're playing Arizona in our barn. We could beat them with half the team riding the bench."
"Cocky," she snorts.
"You love it."
"Do not," she says, but I hear the smile in her voice. "You're just delusional."
"You made me that way."
"Oh, definitely not!" she cries. "You were delusional before you ever skated into me, Phoenix Michaud."
"Yeah, but you made it worse," I say, grinning. "You've got a motherfucker feeling like a king, baby."
"Phoenix," she whispers, her voice soft.
"I'm serious. I'm on top of the world with you, Cara."
"Me too."
"Corey and I talked tonight."
"Talked or fought?" she asks immediately, her voice rife with suspicion. "Because there's a vast difference between the two, you know."
"I'm aware," I say, chuckling. "And I mean we talked, gorgeous. He said shit. I said shit back. We buried the hatchet."
"Really?"
"Yeah, really." I pause. "I think you were right about him."
"About what?"
"He's fucked up over someone else."
"Oh. Yeah," she sighs. "He told you?"
"Nah, and I didn't ask. But when you know what to look for, it's obvious." I pluck at a string on the comforter.
"Yeah." She hesitates for a minute. "So…you two are good?"
"He promised to chill the fuck out. I promised to try not to hit him again."
"Phoenix," she groans. "That does not sound like you're good to me."
"Best efforts will be employed," I tease.
"Great. So you'll hit him in private next time," she says sarcastically.
"Don't give me any ideas."
"It's too late for your shit."
I laugh quietly, wishing like hell I was there with her right now. "I'm just teasing, baby. We're good."
"Good," she says, mollified. "Because I already buried one juicy article about the two of you. I'd really hate to have to do it again."
"Shit." I startle slightly. "I didn't even think about that."
"I know."
"I'm an asshole, Cara."
"Hey. It's fine," she says, her voice soft.
"I didn't get into sports reporting to chase gossip and drama, as much as you seem to think otherwise.
I got into it because I love the game. I love reporting the actual news.
And a fight between teammates over a personal issue isn't news.
It's gossip." She pauses. "I'm sure you're familiar with that concept. "
"Me? No, never heard of it."
"Oh, really? Interesting, considering that there's more gossip going around about you right now."
"Really? How strange."
"Mmhmm. Did you know you rushed into a burning building to rescue children yesterday?"
"Sounds like something I'd do."
"Phoenix!" she cries through laughter. "You went from a drug-dealing future convict to a hero who rushes into burning buildings in the space of a week. Stop spreading rumors about yourself and fess up already!"
"I told you already, baby," I murmur, grinning like a fucking idiot, "I'm not rich enough to answer expensive questions yet. I'll let you know when I am."
"It better be soon," she grumbles.
"I hope so, gorgeous. Christ, I hope so."