Chapter 6
CHAPTER
SIX
TWO MONTHS LATER
TROY
It started with food magically appearing in the fridge in reusable containers I can pop into the microwave, and then continued with a clean apartment and a new lock for the front door two months ago. I know Pack Mayor is responsible for it, yet we’ve barely spoken in the last month and a half.
We went on a couple of dates, had a good time, and then they disappeared. I don’t want to seem needy, so I’m letting them do their thing. We agreed to date, not crawl up each other’s assholes.
I haven’t dated in a long damn time, maybe this is how it’s supposed to be? I don’t fucking know. I’ve thought about asking other people, but I’m pretty sure I’m overreacting.
When I’m interested in someone, I’m locked in. Ella and I may have waited to get married, but we were constantly talking on the phone even while I was on the road early on. My limited experience is fucking with my anxiety.
If this is how dating is now, I don’t know if I want to do it. So, while I’ve picked up the phone half a dozen times to text one of them, I haven’t done it. I know this is a two way street, yet something feels off about all of this.
If they’re busy, I don’t want to be a distraction and I have stuff of my own going on too.
I have practice, my teammates, and hockey games to focus on.
In an effort not to text Pack Mayor, I’m going out occasionally with my teammates, but the girls who paw over us still make my skin crawl.
It feels worse than it usually does, so I often end up cutting out early to head home.
Pack Mayor’s concerns that I not walk in Savannah too late ring loudly in my ears, and I’ll drive myself home when necessary.
I never got a hair cut, and now I have to tie my hair up when I’m playing so it’s not in my face. A part of me feels weird going somewhere to get it cut after Silas was so adamant about doing it.
Fuck. They’re under my damn skin and can’t be bothered to send me a text. Instead, Silas sneaks into my apartment when I’m not home and reorganizes my life. He’s the life fairy. I should be grateful to have them in any way I can, but I hate being avoided.
If there’s a lesson here, I don’t fucking like it.
Stomping down the stairs to get to the stadium for my game, I heft my bag onto my shoulder after a mandated nap by my coach, knowing I’m going to be a menace on the ice tonight.
Sometimes, I feel like an overgrown toddler with knives on my feet being shuttled from activity to activity with naps to break things up.
The idea makes me chuckle under my breath as I leave the apartment building and walk toward my car.
It’s an older SUV Ella didn’t want, which is why she didn’t get it in the divorce.
The Frozen Furies paid to relocate me to Savannah, which covered my moving costs.
I brought only the necessities with me, and it honestly isn’t very much.
My muscles bunch and release as I hustle into the car, and I hang up my suit in the back row of seats, knowing I may need it. The PR manager for the Furies has been pushing me into the limelight more often, and while I’m not completely comfortable with this, I know it’s necessary.
Turning on a playlist from my phone to get my mind right, I bob my head to the music as I drive to the stadium. There’s special parking for employees and players, and it allows me to avoid the crowds after the game is over.
I’m so used to this routine, I zone out while I dress in the locker room and then warm up on the ice with my teammates. Stretching out feels really good after practice this morning, and my eyes close as I concentrate on the team we’re playing tonight.
The Seattle Hawks are known for their rough stick work and fighting. Since I’m in the mood to fuck people up, this works well for me.
“Are you stretching or falling asleep?” Greggs asks beside me.
“Can it be meditation and stretching?” I ask, opening my eyes as I move my body into another position.
“You’re the only person I know who stretches like this,” he teases. “You’d think you’d be calm and collected, but the more zen you appear, the more likely you are to end up in the penalty box.”
“I like to be mysterious,” I chuckle. “I’m ready to be a problem tonight. I’ll clear the way, you focus on getting the puck where it needs to go, yeah?”
“Got it,” he says. “Whose the captain on this team anyway?”
“I’m certainly not,” I tease him. “You can’t have an identity crisis this close to the start of a game, Greggs.”
The whistle blows, signaling for us to skate off the ice. There’s a song and dance to play into as they introduce the team that’s visiting, and then we’re gliding to the bench to await for the game to begin.
As I watch, I clear my mind of all my internal noise.
Pack Mayor and whatever they’re playing at will still be there after the game, and I can continue to agonize about that shit later.
I’ve started visualizing exercises with my trainers and it’s helping me to separate myself from the bullshit in my head.
Nothing else matters other than protecting my teammates and working our way through to our next goal.
Coach calls out who he wants playing, and I pull on my helmet as I jump over the half wall separating me from the ice and skate into position. I watch as Reynolds fights for the puck and then I’m pushing hard to cover him as he begins racing for the other end of the rink.
A Hawk attempts to push Reynolds, but I move into position with Walker and shove him back.
Snarling at me, he talks shit about my ex wife, leading Walker to punch him.
My teammates know Ella is a sore point for me, and they won’t allow anyone to fuck with me about it.
They shut down interviews that ask about her, and it pisses me off that she is still a topic of conversation for the press.
It’s been two fucking years, let me have some damn peace!
Our PR manager also refuses to entertain questions about her, and will redirect the conversation, and that’s how I know I’m on the right team. It was a large part of why I wanted to get traded here. They don’t entertain bad press, and they actually protect their players.
While Coach Hyde is a wild card, I know he also cares about us. Even when he’s being a pain in the ass. He’s asked me a couple of times about Pack Mayor, and I’ve had to deflect because I don’t even know what’s going on with them.
The Hawk ends up in the penalty box, and I join my team further down the ice as the clock starts again. The game is as brutal as I expect it to be, and I can feel the aches and pains already by the time the second period is over.
Rolling my shoulder slowly, I stretch in the locker room as Coach goes over our game plan. My skates are getting some love as the support staff sharpens my blades and I allow Coach’s words to flow over me as I nod along.
Hockey games are a test of endurance, because by this point, those who have been playing for a lot of the game are tired as fuck. Coach is going to pull some of us out to ensure there are players who are fresher to bring us to victory against the Hawks.
I’m alright with this, because while I love helping to assist in the win, I also know I’m not as young as I used to be. We’re currently two points up, and I know how easy it is for this to change.
If he puts me in, then at least I’ll be ready to roll without ending up stranded from a loose skate.
My helmet sits next to me as I roll my neck slowly from side to side to release tension, and I wince as I catch a glimpse of my split lip.
One of those fuckers found an opening when the gloves hit the ice and he punched me.
He was being obnoxious, and I ended up in the penalty box after that fight in the second period.
I hope we fucking beat their asses after our intermission, even if I’m not the one to do it.
“Evans!” Coach yells.
“Yes, sir,” I call out, leaning forward to take my skates back as someone delivers them to me. Losing a skate sucks, and this is the time our support staff checks on everyone to make sure we’re good.
The physical therapist is making notes as he watches us stretch and move, ready to step in to help as needed. I’m not hurt, but I’ve been taking some brutal hits from the opposing team. A long bath in my too small tub is going to be necessary tonight.
“You’ve got visitors. Get your ass moving and don’t be late back,” he barks out.
“Who the fuck is coming to see me in the middle of a game?” I ask, rolling my eyes as I shove my feet into a pair of slides as I stand.
“Don’t ask dumb questions and go see,” Coach snorts, watching as I walk out into the large team space.
Standing in suits and looking delicious is Pack Mayor and I am stunned as I gaze at them.
“No offense, but I’m kind of working here,” I finally force myself to say. They don’t get to ghost me and then show up looking the way they do.
They smell incredible, while I’m sweaty and gross. Silas’ eyes stay on my hair that I’ve scraped up into a bun to keep it off my face, but I ignore him completely.
“We didn’t want to risk you racing out of here once you were done,” East admits, shifting on his feet.
The three of them appear guilty, and I’m not sure why.
“Yeah, well. It’s not like you don’t know where I live,” I say, shrugging. “Look, you’re obviously very busy people and so am I. We tried and it didn’t work out. Let’s not make it a thing. I’ll see you guys around maybe, yeah?”
Turning away, I hightail it back into the locker room. I don’t know what Coach intended by telling me they were here, and I glare at him as I change into my skates and pull on my blade guards. My game zen is officially fucked.
I’m really trying to be a damn adult about this, but it’s not fucking working. I want to know what was so important they couldn’t have texted in the past month and a half. It’s November, for fuck’s sake.
“You may not want to put me back in,” I grumble as I pass him.
“Noted,” he mutters, wincing.