6. Calvin
CALVIN
When we step into the Fractured Compass, instead of walking toward our usual booth, I stalk toward the bar.
I need something to take the edge off, and I need it fast.
While the guys will limit themselves to a couple of beers at most, seeing as they have practice tomorrow morning and another game the night after, I don’t have fuck all to get up for.
Okay, so that’s not entirely true. Darcy will be expecting to see me in the gym first thing. But it’s not as important as what these guys need to do. What’s going to happen if I’m late? Nothing. Right now, no one is relying on me for anything, and I fucking hate it.
“Whiskey. Neat,” I demand when the barman comes over.
“Great win tonight, man,” he says, having instantly recognized me. I mean, I’m not surprised. There aren’t many home games where we don’t come here to hang out.
It’s a cool place. Off the beaten track and we’ve managed to keep it fairly quiet, so it’s not filled with overexcited fans or overeager bunnies. It’s a place where we can hang out, recover, and dissect the events of the night before we move on to somewhere a little more…fulfilling.
Or at least, that’s what the old me did.
There won’t be any clubs tonight. Nor will there be any bunnies.
“Yeah,” I grunt. “They did good.”
He gives me a sympathetic look before going to get my drink.
No sooner has he placed the glass before me than I lift it to my lips and drain the glass.
The alcohol burns all the way down, but it’s exactly what I need.
“Another and a beer, please,” I order.
The guy—Kirk, maybe—opens his mouth as if he’s going to reject my order, but he must think better of it, and quickly turns around to get it.
With the second whiskey burning its way to my stomach, I wrap my fingers around my beer, take a deep breath, and make my way over to the guys’ booth.
If I’m gone too long, they’ll send someone to come and find out what’s wrong.
I might have agreed to come tonight, but I sure as shit don’t want to talk to anyone.
“Let me take that for you,” Sienna’s date says. What was his name? Grant? Grady? Gunther?
Fuck knows. Don’t care.
Before I can argue that I can carry my own fucking drink, he has it out of my hand and walks beside me, talking to me about my stats and the number of defensive zone giveaways I had before I blew out my knee.
Who the fuck is this guy?
Thankfully, as we get to the table, he places my beer down and allows me to sit beside Linc while he retakes his seat opposite me beside Sienna.
I try to look away, but no matter how hard I do, my eyes remain trained on them.
I might not know all that much about Sienna, but I wouldn’t put her with a guy like him.
He seems…I don’t know. Uptight, I guess.
She’s more of a happy-go-lucky girl. Or at least, she used to be.
She loves hockey, that’s more than obvious, but I can’t imagine that she can recite any of our stats like the man sitting beside her.
Eventually, I get dragged into a conversation with Linc and Rett about an endorsement deal Linc’s agent has mentioned. I try to focus and make the right noises, I really do, but I’m finding it hard to think about my friend's career when my own is in the toilet.
I don’t know how much time passes, but it feels like a million hours, especially since my second beer has already been long forgotten, when Linc grunts an “Excuse me,” and gives me little choice but to let him out of the booth.
One glance to my left tells me why he’s so keen to escape. His girl just walked in with Hailee hot on her tail.
I scan the booth and watch as Hayden practically hops over the table to get to Hailee.
Shaking my head at both of them, I don’t bother sitting back down and instead take myself to the bathroom, wondering if any of them would notice if I called a rideshare and fucked off.
Problem is, they would. Those guys out there aren’t just my teammates; they’re my best friends as well. But their focus right now needs to be on the game. They don’t need to worry about me.
I take longer than necessary in the bathroom, hoping to clear my head, but it’s pointless—because while I might get a little space, I find a guy in there who’s more than happy to talk about the game.
He clearly has no ability to read body language, because mine is screaming “Fuck off,” but still, he continues to chatter as if we’re best friends.
Have I met him before? Fuck knows. Maybe. I meet a lot of people.
When I finally get to leave, I bump straight into a woman who looks way too happy to see me.
Again, could have met her before. There’s every chance I’ve fucked her.
But just like all the others, once we’re done, they’re forgotten.
It sounds harsh, I’m aware of that, but it’s how it has to be.
I can’t spend my days obsessing over a woman.
I need to keep my head in the game. Or at least, I used to.
But as good a distraction as a night with a woman might be right now, I refuse to half-ass my performance.
Maybe in a few months, when I’ve got a little more strength back.
Fuck. A few months of nothing but me and my right hand sounds like hell. But letting a woman leave knowing I didn’t give her my best…that’ll be worse.
If you’re not going to give one hundred percent, what’s the point of turning up?
I hear my bantam team coach’s voice as clearly in my head as if he’s standing beside me.
He’s the first person who believed in me.
He was the one who pushed me harder than I’ve ever been pushed.
He showed me exactly what it would take to make my dream come true, and he never once let up.
It didn’t matter how early practice was, how exhausted I was, how much stress I was under; he taught me that showing up, that giving it your all, was always worth it.
I owe that man everything. He’s the reason I’m here now. My confidence, my self-belief—if often lacking—is thanks to him.
“Hey, baby,” the woman purrs as she steps in front of me, her hands landing on my chest, dragging me firmly back to the present. “I miss seeing you out on the ice.” She bats her eyelashes at me and I grunt in response, my eyes lifting in search of a different woman.
I find Sienna almost instantly. She’s out of the booth now, standing at the bar with Bea, Rett, Hailee, and Hayden.
She’s wiggling her hips in time to the music while waving her drink around in front of her.
She’s got a soft smile playing on her lips, and she looks like she’s in her own world.
But the one person who isn’t anywhere near her is her date.
As the woman in front of me continues talking, I search for the guy.
My eyes widen when I find him at the other side of the bar with Darcy. They look innocent enough as they laugh at something one of them said, but they’re standing a little closer than I would deem normal between two guys.
“What do you say?” I’m vaguely aware of the question, but I still don’t look down at the woman. “Killer?” Finally, I find her eyes. “I said, my apartment is only ten minutes from here.”
“That’s great for you. Short walk home at the end of the night.” I twist away from her the best I can and move through the crowd that’s doubled over the last few hours.
I keep my eyes on Sienna as I approach the bar, wondering if she’s aware that her date is flirting with my trainer. If she does know, she doesn’t seem to care.
I intend to go to the opposite side of the bar, so I can watch her from a distance.
No—I mean, so I can put her out of my vision and my head and attempt to actually enjoy a couple of minutes of tonight.
But it seems that my legs don’t follow that plan.
“Hey, how’s the knee holding up?” she asks the second I come to a stop beside her.
Much like with the woman by the bathroom, I grunt in response.
Smooth, man. Perfect way to help remind her who you are.
I bite down on the inside of my cheek. The pain of that is almost as much as the knowledge that she doesn’t remember.
It’s a really fucking harsh reality check that the one girl who made a real impact on me all those years ago has completely forgotten about it, and even standing before her right now, there’s no flicker of recognition at all.
Sure, I’ve changed quite a bit since then, but I recognized her the second I laid eyes on her, and she’s changed too. Gotten taller and significantly hotter.
Fuck. I knew she was out of my league that summer. And even now that I’m an all-star NHL player, she’s still on an entirely different level from me.
“Wow, that good?” she deadpans. “Should I take the bet off that I’ve got on your returning next season and having your most successful season ever?”
Shock rocks through me that she’s got more confidence in me than I have.
“Yeah, probably for the best,” I mutter before flagging down the barman and ordering another beer.
“Sorry about Garrett earlier. He has this habit of nerding out and blurting figures left and right when he’s nervous.”
“Oh, uh…It’s okay. It’s nice to have a reminder that I’m capable of something,” I say, glancing down at my leg.
Sienna’s breath catches, and I kick myself.
I’ve been pretty good about keeping my “woe is me” thoughts to myself around the guys. But apparently, it’s not as easy with her.
Her full lips part, I’m sure to reassure me that everything will be okay, but I cut her off. I can’t hear it again.
“Have you seen your date recently? He seems to be getting pretty friendly with our trainer.”
Her brow wrinkles before she twists around and looks in their direction.
“Ah, yeah. Can’t say I’m surprised; Darcy is just his type.”
“Wait, what?” I blurt.
When she turns back to me, she’s got the most dazzling smile lighting up her face.
“Garrett is my brother. Not my date.”
Her words slam into me, realization flowing through my veins.
“Ah, yes. Your brother,” I mutter.
Sienna’s brow wrinkles, confusion swirling in her gray eyes.
“What’s wrong? You weren’t jealous, were you?” she asks with a laugh.
But I fail to see the humor in her words; instead, they force me to take a step back.
“J-jealous? Of your brother?”
“You thought he was my date,” she reminds me as my beer appears before me.
I have the glass in my hand and then pressed to my lips in a heartbeat.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Sienna,” I snap, a little too harshly. “I was just concerned he was about to cheat right in front of your face.”
She smiles at me, but I’m not entirely sure she believes a word of it. “Well, thank you for your concern, but everything is good here.”
“Okay, good. That’s good. And Darcy is good people. He’d be a great brother-in-law.”
Sienna bursts out laughing, and it causes the hairs on the back of my neck to rise as memories of evenings watching the sun go down, happiness filling my chest, come back to me.
“Trust me, I won’t be getting a brother-in-law anytime soon. Garrett is no different from you.”
“What do you mean?”
You know exactly what she means.
“He’s a player. And that’s cool. It makes him happy.”
I can’t help but lean forward a little, lured in by her smile and sweet floral scent.
“And what makes you happy?”
One of her brows quirks before she delivers a line that makes me realize exactly what I just did.
“Not having hot hockey players hitting on me for a few hours of fun.”
Fuck. Damn whiskey.
“You think I’m hot, though?”