45. Drew
FORTY-FIVE
DREW
One thing I’ve never done is bring my anger onto the ice. Dad always taught us that all our frustrations and anger need to be left off the ice because it’ll make us perform badly. Hockey is brutal enough without angry players on the ice.
I can’t afford to make a mistake for my team. I’m their leader, the one they chose to rely on and I need a clear head to lead the team to a win, especially since we’ve lost our last two matches.
But I can’t fucking clear my head. I haven’t been able to for the last two days. Since Jules, my spirited, stubborn, bratty Jules, told me what Travis Martin did. The utter helplessness she experienced because some asshole took advantage of her when she was at her lowest and most vulnerable.
I hadn’t shown any anger in front of her because more than my anger, she needed my support and my conviction that I believed her. And I do, with every fucking fiber of my being. Jules isn’t a liar, and she’s not malicious.
The anger has been simmering inside me for the last two days and the only thing which seems to ease it is holding Jules in my arms.
It’s a good thing the guys are covering for my distraction, but they shouldn’t have to.
Ford passes the puck to Reese who passes it to me, but I’m too slow with it and Josh Fucking Whitmore gets it before I can.
We’re playing against Philadelphia tonight, which means playing against John Whitmore, the asshole who left my sister at the altar and almost destroyed her career.
Roman beat him badly on the ice last season, but that doesn’t seem to have knocked the cocky smirk off his face.
“Heard you’re dating Jules, Callahan. Guess some pussy makes all the Titans weak, but I get the appeal. She’s always been so feisty,” he says with a laugh.
He tries to skate away with the puck but I grab the back of his jersey and slam him into the boards. The referee whistles, but I ignore him, pressing my arm onto Josh’s back.
“Don’t you ever fucking take her name from your filthy fucking mouth,” I growl. “What Roman did to you will feel like a little bruise compared to what I’ll do.”
The referee whistles again as Ford and Reese pull me off Josh. I cost my team a penalty and have to sit in the sin bin for five minutes. Josh smirks at me as I skate away. Roman gives me a thumbs up, smiling widely.
Coach Cross is the worst of all. I feel the heat of his glare burning into me the whole time I’m in the sin bin, wishing the ice would part and swallow me whole. It’d be better than sitting in the box of shame.
I imagine punching Josh in his smug face and that makes the five minutes go by fast.
We win the game 5-3 and there’s no sweeter victory than seeing Josh’s disappointed and angry face.
After the game, I shower and change back into my clothes before making my way to Coach’s office. The guys look at me with worry, but not judgement. They’ll support me no matter what, which makes it that much worse that I let them down tonight by losing my cool on the ice.
“I don’t know why he’s upset,” Roman says, referring to Coach. “I did worse to Josh and had to sit out some games. It’s not a big deal.”
Kai gives him a strange look. “Dude, you had a concussion. You were medically required to stay off the ice.”
“Which happened to coincide with my suspension,” Roman says.
“Drew is the captain, and he doesn’t get into meaningless fights,” Ford says, arching a brow.
“I’m sure that asshole did something to instigate him,” Roman replies, shrugging.
“Guys, enough. We won’t know what’s going to happen until I see Coach,” I say. “You guys head to Archer’s and I’ll join if I live to tell the tale.”
Sage is occupying one of the chairs in Coach’s office when I walk in. Coach Cross looks up, his face hardening into disappointment and anger. “Care to explain yourself, Callahan?”
Sage offers me a soft smile as I drop into the chair next to her.
“Josh was being an asshole, as usual. I shouldn’t have lost my cool and I’m sorry about that,” I say. I don’t have a problem admitting my mistake when I’ve made one.
Coach leans back in his chair, assessing me carefully. “What did he say?”
“Shit about Jules,” I reply, keeping it vague. I’m going to repeat what he said and he’s lucky they’re leaving tonight, otherwise he’d be the target for my anger.
“Sage?” Cross looks at her and nods towards me.
With a sigh, she turns. “I don’t need to explain to you that it’s not a good look for our captain to fight another team’s player for no reason. Now, if you want to apolo--”
I’m already shaking my head. “Not fucking happening. He’s lucky to still be playing after what he did to my sister. Now he’s spouting bullshit about my girlfriend? You can bench me, but I’m not apologizing.”
The last thing I want to do is make her job difficult, but she’s asking the impossible. Just thinking of apologizing to Josh is like nails on a chalkboard.
“Sage, do you mind giving us a minute?” Coach asks.
Sage nods, standing up. “I’ll talk to Ethel and see if we can come up with another plan.”
She walks out of the office, closing the door behind her.
Coach looks at me expectantly. “Do you want me to bench you, Drew?”
“I don’t want you to bench me, though it’s preferable over apologizing to Josh.”
Coach nods. “You’ve been distracted the last couple of games.”
“I’ve got a lot on my mind.” I shrug. Namely, how can I kill Boston’s beloved quarterback and not be implicated?
I should take my cues from Jules. Travis Martin just did a campaign with a cereal brand and when we walked into the grocery, his face was on a poster, front and center.
Jules just walked past it like it meant nothing, but I didn’t miss the way her hand tightened around mine.
“Why don’t you tell me about it?” Coach says, settling back into his chair.
“It’s not up to me to tell you anything,” I say.
With a sigh, I add, “I’m not even sure I have the right to feel angry because it feels like I’m making the situation about myself, when it’s not.
A third of a life has been lived with this and my finding about it means so little in the grand scheme of things. ”
Coach runs his hands through his hair before rubbing it along his jaw.
“You’ve got one thing right. Whatever it is, it’s not about you.
I don’t know what it is, but I can tell it’s about Jules and that you care for her deeply.
Now you have to ask yourself if Jules wants you to behave this way or if your distraction is going to help her in any way. ”
I lean forward, resting my elbows on my thighs as I twist my fingers together. “What if it’s something really bad?”
“I’m sure it is,” Coach says, his gaze steady. “But does she want you to react or does she just want you to be aware? Did she tell you so you can charge out there like a knight in shining armor to defend her honor or did she tell you because she trusts you?”
I understand everything he’s saying, but there’s still this strange feeling of restlessness inside me.
“The longer you hold on to your anger,” Coach says, “the more you will force her to continue living with whatever it is.”
Just like that, the anger deflates out of me. The last thing I want is for Jules to continue to live with this nightmare through me. She already has to live it with it in her head, but if I start behaving differently, it will affect our relationship.
“In other words,” Coach continues drily, “don’t be a fucking man about it. It’s not about you, so stop making it about you. If Juliet wanted to do something, she’d have done it herself.”
I chuckle lightly, nodding in agreement. Juliet can do anything she sets her mind to. Her fear is holding her back and if she wanted to, Travis Martin won’t see the light of day again. My girl’s a beast--she just needs to remember it, that’s all.
“Thanks, Coach,” I say.
He nods once. “Try not to start meaningless fights on the ice, understand? I’m not going to smooth things over for you each time. Now get the hell out.”
With a nod of gratitude, I leave his office.
“I think I found the perfect place,” Jules says the next night. I pause on the way to opening the car door for her and turn in question.
She’s wearing a short, tight black dress with knee high black boots, and a dark brown long coat.
Her lips are painted a sinful red that I find distracting.
I’d much rather stay home, but I’ve finally come to term with the fact that dating means actually going on dates.
I can’t keep Jules locked up in the house, no matter how much I want to see the sweat glistening on her skin as she rides me to exhaustion.
“The perfect place for what?” I pull open the door and help her in. Walking around the car, I get in the driver’s side and start the car, turning on the heaters so she doesn’t freeze. The recent temperatures have been a seasonal low for early November.
“For me,” she replies. “To buy. It’s a huge condo, with a patio as large as your backyard so Bailey will have plenty of space to run. I can add in artificial grass as well.”
She turns hopeful, expectant eyes on me as if my whole issue with this situation is letting my child visit her. Am I an idiot for assuming that now we’re dating, she won’t be moving out? Why the hell does she even need to?
“Juliet.”
“Andrew.” She waits expectantly.
“You can’t be serious,” I say, starting the car.
We’re going to be late for the show. Remy and Ash are in town because Remy has an art showcase at a local gallery. We’re going to see it with Lavinia and Roman.
Honestly, if she decides she wants to keep bees, I’ll probably build her a beehive in the backyard even though I’m deathly allergic.
“What do you mean?” She laughs. “It’s a really nice building. The security is top-notch, there’s a doorman, the neighbourhood is safe, no one’s died in the condo. It’s perfect.”
“Except for the fact it involves you moving out,” I say.
I glance at her as I stop at a red light. Her face is in shadow, though I see the tilt of her red lips.
“You don’t want me to move out?”