34. Bennett
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
BENNETT
I’ve got a good fucking feeling about tonight.
I’m starting in the game, we’re so close to securing the playoffs, and my girl is in the stands with my name on her back and my number on a cute-ass little sticker on her cheek.
Of course, I had my pregame good luck kiss in addition to the most insane head I’ve ever gotten that has my toes still tingling.
So yeah, it’s gonna be a great fucking night.
And I already decided that the second I step off the ice… I’m headed straight for Merritt.
Because tonight’s the night I’m telling her that I’m in love with her.
Honestly, I don’t even know why the fuck I’ve been waiting.
I guess I was just trying to find the right time.
When it would be the most perfect opportunity to tell someone you love them for the very first time.
I want to do it right. We’ve been officially dating for almost two months now, and I just can’t wait any longer. I’m out of my mind about her.
I’ve never been in love before, and making memories with my girl is important to me. I don’t want her to ever forget it.
I pull the earplugs out of my ears just as the locker room door opens and Gauthreaux walks in, promptly pissing all over my great mood.
Obviously, I knew I was going to see him tonight since he’s on the same fucking team, but lately, we’ve gone out of our way to avoid each other entirely except when absolutely necessary.
In fact, we actually haven’t said a word to each other since the night of the party at my house. So when I see that he’s making a direct beeline for me, striding straight across the locker room in my direction, I’m immediately on edge, my hackles raised.
I see Zach out of the corner of my eye, sitting on the bench in front of his locker, also clocking Gauthreaux’s approach.
I put each of my earplugs back into the case and turn, setting them on the shelf in my locker.
“Legros,” I hear from behind me. Honestly, I think about ignoring him completely and just pretending that he’s not there at all.
Mostly because I’m still floating on my post-blow job high and thinking about how we’re going to win this fucking game tonight.
And I don’t want that fucker to ruin it.
“Just thought I should let you know,” he keeps going, even when I don’t turn around, “I had a real interesting conversation with your girlfriend just now.”
I freeze.
Why the fuck was he talking to Merritt? And when did it even happen?
She was heading up to the stands when I walked into the locker room to suit up. She didn’t mention anything about talking to Gauthreaux.
As much as I want to turn around and knock him the fuck out for even having the audacity to say her name, I exhale, blowing a slow, steady breath out of my nose to stay calm.
I try to remember what happened the other night and what Merritt said about how getting a reaction from me is exactly what the fuck he’s looking for.
Slowly, I turn and lift a brow.
His dark eyes seem almost black as his lip curls up into a snarl.
“How about we not do this?” Zach quips from my right, his voice low and steady. “We’re about to go on the ice in the next five fucking minutes, dude. Take this shit somewhere else.”
“Wasn’t fucking talking to you, Babineaux,” Gauthreaux says, never taking his eyes off mine.
“Just fuck off. All I’m here to do is play hockey, and I don’t give a shit what you have to say.” I try to brush past him, checking his shoulder, but as I do, his hand clamps down around my upper arm.
My gaze flicks down to it before I slowly drag my eyes back to him. “Take your goddamn hand off me.”
He smirks, but at least he fucking does it.
Because I’m two seconds from beating his head into the locker behind me.
My patience for this asshole is gone, completely depleted. Actually, I’m not sure I ever really had any to begin with.
“You’re going to want to hear what I have to say.”
My jaw works, grinding my teeth to fucking dust. “So talk and quit pussyfooting around it,” I say through clenched teeth.
He turns to his locker and grabs his stick, tossing it back and forth between his hands.
“You know you’re just her way of getting back at me, right?
” He chuckles. “Merritt doesn’t really give a fuck about you.
You’re just the next best thing for her to dick ride while she’s trying to piss me off.
That’s all you’re good for anyway, from what I hear. ”
I step forward, and my voice drops deadly low. “I’m only going to say this once. Watch your fucking mouth when you speak about her. Better yet, just keep her name out your mouth entirely.”
“Remember who had her first,” he says haughtily. “Trust me, I had her fucking everywhere. You’ve got my sloppy fucking seconds, Legros. How’s it feel?”
I’m moving before I can even think it through, acting on pure animal instinct. My chest hits his, forcing him back a step. “Shut the fuck up.”
Red-hot anger unfurls in my chest.
There’s no fucking shot he actually thinks he’s going to get away with saying this shit about her.
But that’s the point.
Fuck.
I clench my jaw, breathing hard through my nose, trying to pull it together and force myself to calm down. To stop letting him bait me into acting.
Gauthreaux grins. “Might not be your girl much longer though.” He lifts his shoulder nonchalantly. “Not after she saw that video I showed her.”
“What are you talking about?” I grit out. “What fucking video?”
He reaches into his pocket and grabs his phone, then taps his screen. “Oh. It turns out we’ve got another mutual acquaintance. A girl you used to hook up with. You don’t remember the video you made with her? Damn, Legros, you make a habit out of not remembering women you hook up with?”
Unease creeps up my spine.
I have no clue what he’s even talking about, but if it isn’t something I should worry about, then he wouldn’t look so goddamn smug.
Gauthreaux flips his phone toward me, and my stomach fucking plummets, filled with dread.
Fuck.
The video playing on the screen is indeed me and a girl having sex. A girl who’s on top of me, moaning my name like a banshee when I couldn’t even tell you hers.
Her face is familiar, but I… can’t fully place her.
Jesus fucking Christ, of course I don’t remember this video because I had no idea she was even recording it. I never would’ve agreed to that shit, even past me, who sometimes made questionable decisions.
I’m clenching my jaw so tightly the muscle is aching staring at the screen.
“I hated to be the one to do it, the one to hurt her, but she had to know you’re not the kinda guy you commit to.
” Gauthreaux chuckles darkly, pressing Pause on the screen.
“Her face crumpled like she thought you were really better than that, but now she knows. Just shook her head in disgust and walked away.”
My pulse pounds, creating a loud, deafening woosh in my ears.
Merritt. If she really did see this… If he actually fucking showed it to her and isn’t lying through his goddamn teeth…
The knot in my gut twists painfully, and I shake my head. “I didn’t fucking cheat on her. I would never cheat on the girl I care about. That’s your specialty, you piece of shit.”
His head cocks to the side. “I mean, I’ve got a video of you fucking another girl who isn’t your girlfriend, and the source says… it was just a few nights ago. Probably the same night Merritt was working at the pottery studio?”
What. The. Fuck?
“You motherfucker.” The smile that twists his face is sinister.
I shove at his chest, knocking him back against the locker.
“That video was taken way before I even met Merritt, without my consent, by the way, since I had no idea it was being recorded. Pretty fucking sure that qualifies as revenge porn.”
“Just a concerned friend making sure someone I care about knows that her boyfriend is fucking other girls behind her back. You know what they say… once a womanizer, always a womanizer.”
My blood is boiling, my hands shaking, my chest so tight it’s hard to breathe.
“She’s not going to believe this bullshit,” I spit in his face, shoving him again.
Everything in his locker rattles from the force.
I feel Zach flanking my side, ready to intervene, but I’m not fucking done with this asshole.
“The difference between you and me is Merritt knows exactly who I am. She would never believe this. She trusts me.”
He sucks in a breath, shrugging. “I don’t know, man. Seemed like she probably did when she ran out of the arena.”
“You’re a fucking liar.”
“Guess you’ll find out if she’s in the stands or not, huh?
” He pushes me back, shoving hard at my chest. “Don’t worry though…
I’ll be there to take care of her and pick up the pieces you broke afterwards.
I have no problem going right back to where we left off.
I remember how good she looked when she was bent over, taking m—”
I fucking snap, lunging at him, my fingers twisting into the front of his jersey and shoving him against the locker, but before I can hit him, Zach yanks me backward. He steps in between us, his hand flat on my chest.
“Stop. Bennett, fucking stop,” he grunts, pushing me back and putting distance between us. “You hit him, then he wins. He’s trying to get in your head, that’s it. Don’t let him.”
My chest heaves. Each breath I’m dragging in feels like it’s not enough to fill my lungs. I look past Zach to the piece of shit, and I question whether or not it’s worth fighting him. Even if it’s only for a second.
Fuck.
I’ve never felt fury burning in my veins the way it is right now.
But I know Zach’s right. If I beat his ass the way I want to, the way he deserves, it’s over.
I might only get suspended for a couple of games, but the damage would already be done.
My future in hockey is already in flux. That would be the nail in my coffin.
I nod to Zach and stop trying to push past him.
“Let that motherfucker dig his own grave. We’ve got a game to play, and this is your fucking ice. Your net. Let’s fucking go.”
I’m costing us the game.
I know it, my teammates know it, Coach knows it.
My head’s not in it tonight, and I hate myself for it almost as much as I hate Gauthreaux. For allowing him to fill my head with his bullshit, to knock me off my game, forcing me to play right into his goddamn hand.
I’ve given up too many goals. Spent too much time watching the clock and not watching the puck.
I glance back over my shoulder again, my eyes scanning the seat where Merritt should be, finding it empty, just like the hundred other times I’ve looked there since I got on the ice.
The knot in my gut twists, and I swallow hard, turning back in the net as the referee’s whistle blasts.
I drop back into stance and try to focus, to calm my breathing and square up. Keep my eyes on the puck.
But I can’t stop thinking about Merritt and how she might actually have fallen for Gauthreaux’s bullshit. She might be somewhere thinking that video is recent and that I did the same thing that piece of shit did to her.
I can’t stop thinking about her being hurt. About where she is and what she’s feeling right now.
Why else would she not be here?
The last thing I did before walking into the locker room tonight was kiss her. She told me good luck, and then she walked to the stands.
And now her seat’s empty. It has been all night. The anxiety I’ve been feeling the entire game continues to multiply, and I feel so goddamn useless.
The whistle blows, and I see Coach pointing at me while Gauthreaux stands from the bench.
Fuck. He’s pulling me.
My gaze flicks to the clock. Three minutes left. He’s pulling me because I’ve fucked up tonight, and he doesn’t trust me to finish it out.
I skate out of the crease and across the ice, but I pass Gauthreaux on the way to the bench as he skates to where he’s replacing me.
He slows, and I hear him chuckle through his mask. “Damn. I’m gonna have your spot on the team and your girl. Sorry for your loss.”
I grit my teeth, flexing my glove around my stick so hard it might fucking snap.
I hope he fucking chokes.
Stepping through the bench door, I yank my mask off and drop my stick into the rack, flopping down onto the bench.
Tyler and Zach both nod my way, but they don’t say anything. They already know what I’m feeling. How pissed I am. How I’m trying to hold my shit together to make it through the last minutes of this game.
This is the first time I can ever recall in my hockey career that I’ve watched the clock, wishing that it would move faster.
We lose 2-3 with seconds left.
I don’t say a word to anyone as I walk back to the locker room. I keep my mouth shut and my head down because I’m a ticking time bomb.
I’ve let my team down.
But even worse, I’m scared that I’m losing Merritt.
That Gauthreaux did exactly what he set out to accomplish.
I head straight to my locker and grab my phone, checking my messages to see if she’s sent anything.
No texts or calls.
Nothing.
I open her contact and hit FaceTime. It rings, and rings, and fucking rings, and she doesn’t pick up.
So I call back, a regular one this time, and it goes to voicemail after a series of rings.
My mind is spinning with every worst-case scenario there is as I toss my phone back into my locker and head for the showers.
All I keep thinking is how can I lose her when she’s the only girl I’ve ever loved?
And I haven’t even had the chance to fucking tell her yet.