Chapter 15 – Out of Contro #2
"Yeah." The lie slips easily from me, even as my pulse jumps at the memory of her laugh. "Boundaries… respect." I parrot the words back without thinking, my mind still on her.
"What are you so preoccupied with?" Rod stares at me with the shadow of a smirk.
I bark out a startled laugh. "I have to admit, I'm… intrigued. That blonde." The words slip out before I can take them back.
A look of shock crosses Rod's face. "Yeah?" He sounds incredulous. "But Melly comes to all your games."
"She didn't come to this one," I raise my brows, letting my words hang.
"Are you insinuating that you'd like to meet Mandy?"
"Mandy?"
"The blonde."
I rub the back of my neck, as a jolt of desire runs through me. A heat spreads low in my body. "Yeah… Mandy. I could do that." I wipe sweat from my hands on the towel covering my thighs, my muscles stiffening. I don't even try to hide it now, I'm practically drooling.
Rod chuckles, shaking his head. "Man, you're ready to get in on the action, aren't you? "
"She's got my attention," I say simply.
"I… " He looks around almost guiltily. "I guess I could introduce you two tonight. But you really need to talk to Melly before you start anything. She has to be on board if you really want to stay together."
"Yeah!" I wave my hand at him. "Details."
I just want a little extra attention. Melly is still my wife and always will be, no matter what.
She's solid, reliable, and we can handle it.
Like Rod said, everyone does stuff like this.
It's meaningless. And Mandy? She's a knockout.
Not the same as Melly's classy beauty, but wow, a real temptress.
A little fun never hurt anyone. I work hard, and play hard too. I've earned it. Melly will get it.
[End of Flashback]
A cold sweat breaks out as I bend over and vomit hard onto the concrete floor of the tunnel. That was the first night I had sex with someone besides Melly. I thought I was the king of the world, but now it tastes bitter in my mouth. Remorse and regret thrum through my body, jagged and painful.
I stagger as Rod grabs my arm to steady me. A few of the weaker-stomached guys gag as everyone steps back in disgust .
“Did you really think I'd spend Christmas away from Cassie if we were in a good place?”
No, this can't be real .
I wipe my mouth. “I can't lose her.”
“Pull yourself together, Kingston.”
I jerk my arm free, grip Rod by the collar, and shove him against the wall. “What's your motive, Rod?” I yell as our fellow hockey players jump in to pull me away.
“What are you talking about?” he shouts.
“This… this was all your idea, to open my marriage,” I seethe, spitting.
“I didn't force you to jump in headfirst like a clueless moron.” He shoves me back into the guys holding me. “Your ego's so big, you saw what I was doing and couldn't wait to get a taste. The hordes of puck bunnies had you salivating.”
I jump for him, but the guys are holding me firmly, fists locked around my arms.
"She didn't want to do this," I whisper my crime against her, head low.
Rod's brow furrows. "What?" His voice cracks, stunned.
"I backed her into a corner," I admit, barely above a breath. "Told her I'd leave if she didn't agree. "
Rod's face hardens, disbelief giving way to something colder.
"Tell me you didn't do that, you heartless jerk.
" He leans in, fisting my shirt. “Kingston, I regret hurting Cassie.
Truthfully, I do. It's wrecked my marriage.
But she willingly agreed to it. I didn't force her.
Melly's nothing like Cassie. She's softer and gentler.
If Cassie had been more like her, I'd never have risked it.
Melly's not built for this. How do you not see that, when everyone else in the league does?”
The guys hold us apart, tense and watching. A few nod in agreement, but no one meets my eyes. Some drop their heads, others look away.
Anger surges in me. I'm furious with myself for being such a pathetic excuse for a husband, and with Rod for ever planting the idea in my head. And then it hits me—he wants my wife. He engineered this.
“You two-faced piece of crap! You want Melly! You set me up—deliberately,” I snarl through clenched teeth and drive my head into his chest. “You used me, Rod. To get to my wife.”
Rod doubles over with a grunt, coughing, his face twisted with fury.
“No, Kingston, I didn't,” he spits. “I had no idea you'd do this to her.
There's nothing I could've done to stop you.
You had it in your head, just waiting for an excuse, for someone to tell you it'd be okay.
But you should've listened to your wife because you sure didn't listen to your heart.”
We are still butting heads roughly when the coaching staff arrives. With a clap and a nod, they start down the line.
“Let's go, fellas. Knock it off, Kingston, Halvorsen. Formation time,” orders Coach LaRiche. “Remember, this is a benefit game for the kids. We're playing under NHL rules, but since it's a charity-friendly event, keep it clean! I don't want to see any blood.”
We snap to attention. Rod and I exchange one last heated shove before pushing off. The announcers' booming voices cut through the crowd's roar, pumping up the energy.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the annual charity showdown, Blades for Hope!” one of them calls out, his voice smooth and captivating.
“And that's Dylan Price getting things started, folks,” the second announcer chimes in, his voice a bit deeper.
“I'm Mason Kincaid, and we're thrilled to be here with you.
All proceeds from today's game support pediatric cancer research and treatment, along with the brave kids and families currently facing this fight.”
“We also want to thank all the volunteers who helped make this event possible. ”
“Now, speaking of volunteers, are you ready to meet the stars of the ice?”
The crowd erupts in response. The arena rumbles as fans stomp their feet in unison.
The lights dim. A spotlight hits us, lined up at the mouth of the tunnel. The team captains lead the way.
“We've got two great powerhouse lineups for you guys today,” Dylan booms dramatically.
“Leading the Polar Storm onto the ice is Thunder Bay Titans' team captain, Rod 'The Tank' Halverson. Followed by Jaxson Kingston and Connor McKinnon, also from the Thunder Bay Titans. Rounding out the Polar Storm are Vince Sorenson and Alex Volkov from the Glacier Wolves, with Tyler Grant from the Iron Vultures protecting the crease.”
“Aaaand captaining the Frozen Fury is none other than James Raddison from the Steel Port Ice Hawks.
His lead defenseman, Sebastian ‘Bash' Duchesne, is missing tonight, much to the disappointment of the fans who look forward to the rivalry between Duchesne and Kingston.
When those two are on the ice together, it's explosive. Joining Raddison are Markus Lindstrom of the… ”
The announcer's voice fades beneath the roar of the crowd, just a hum in my head as I step onto the ice. I shift focus, zeroing in on the puck drop.
Head in the game, Kingston. Head in the game.
The third period ticks down, and I'm exhausted from the debauchery of last night and the intensity of the game. My knees tremble, and sweat runs down my back. The crowd roars as the PuckCam swings overhead, flashing between live fan shots and game replays.
The arena buzzer blares, signaling something significant on the PuckCam.
It cuts through the noise and pulls everyone's attention to the giant screens.
I'm caught mid-play, so I don't react at first. But when the familiar theme music of a celebrity gossip program blasts through the speakers, I freeze and look up.
The show host, a beautiful brunette in a sleek dress, cuts in, loud and polished, her voice echoing through the suddenly quiet arena. “Good evening, I'm Pinella Russo, coming to you from CenterStage Live with an exclusive that's sure to rattle a few cages.”
The video cuts in, and there I am, wearing my robe on the hotel balcony.
It appears to be a shot from this morning.
Mandy and her friend, both nude, are pressi ng themselves against me.
Their body parts are blurred, but their hands aren't. I'm struggling against their grip as they tug my robe off.
Though the moment appears incriminating, I know I was trying to get them to leave me alone at the time.
The segment ends with all three of us, naked, moving back into the hotel room together, the girls clinging to me.
It reads like I'm joining in. At that point, though, I had already decided I was done with this lifestyle, but I'm guilty because I spent Christmas Eve chasing empty distractions instead of being with my wife.
The silence is interrupted by shouts from the crowd.
“Cheater!”
“Two-timer!”
“Your wife deserves better.”
Chaos descends as the stands erupt in boos.
“Get lost!”
“Scum.”
Popcorn, hot dogs, soft drinks, you name it, rain down onto the ice or splat against the glass dividers. Mustard, ketchup, and soda run in rivulets down the slick surface, leaving veins of destruction that resemble spilled blood across the ice .
I glance up at the broadcast booth, where the PuckCam is operated. There's Mandy and her friend, Teresa, from last night, falling all over each other, laughing.
The PuckCam wraps up airing my indiscretion and now focuses on me, live on the ice. My furious, pale face is framed within a broken-heart border. The feed pans from me to my direct line of sight to the two girls in the broadcast booth, who are having the time of their lives at my expense.
Unbeknownst to Mandy, the camera is focused directly on her when she mouths to me, “Play stupid games, Loverboy.” Blowing a kiss, she adds. “You'll come crawling back.”
It's practically a signed confession. It's clear to the crowd and me that Mandy's behind the video, and it will devastate and humiliate my wife.
And with it airing on a major network, Melly will definitely see it.
I'm the one who exposed her to this, thanks to a stupid idea to experiment with our marriage, and to being enough of an idiot to keep around such a vicious psychopath that I’d slept with.
On the PuckCam, Mandy laughs and looks over at her friend, who catches my eye and makes a cutesy finger wave, flashing a self-satisfied smile .
The fans recognize them as the same girls who were on the balcony with me in the footage, and hold them just as much to blame. They've also become targets of the crowd's rage.
You can hear the fans shout, “That's them!” A group of furious women converges on the door and tries to force it open.
I scowl at Mandy as the boos and flying junk not only continue but intensify, raining down on the broadcast booth.
Mandy and her sidekick suddenly realize they've outed themselves and that maybe their actions have consequences. They slip out of sight, sinking to the floor like cheating CEOs at a rock concert.
Security begins to swarm the ice, and I'm escorted, along with the other players, back into the tunnel. I don't even try to dodge the food as it hits me. I deserve this, and then some.