Heartless Player: A College Hockey Romance : (Westfall U Series)

by R. C. Stephens

  “Oh, hey there, Rebel,” Preston says, sitting at the kitchen table. He doesn’t appear to be angry, but who knows.

  “Hi, Preston.” I fight to keep my tone even.

  “Sorry about before. I should’ve locked the door,” he says.

  He doesn’t seem anything like Papa. He isn’t angry or out of control, but I’m still on edge. I don’t trust people who use drugs.

  I walk over to the kitchen drawer and pull out a plastic container. I fill it with some spaghetti and meatballs because I need to eat, and if there’s food at home, I’d rather not spend money outside.

  “You should’ve,” I say. I don’t know why I’m engaging the conversation. Still, Preston has the decency to flinch.

  “Look”—he runs his hand through his dark brown hair—“I really like Blossom, and I haven’t felt this way about someone in a long time. It’s important to me that you and I get along, because Blossom talks about how important you are and stuff,” he says, and he runs his hand through his hair again like a nervous tic.

  “Does Blossom know you’re using?” I ask, because he doesn’t seem to be in a particularly violent mood and he seems to be genuine, despite the fact that his pupils are blown.

  “About that,” he says with a nervous laugh. “Would you mind keeping it on the down low? Blossom doesn’t know, and I’m kind of on parole.”

  My insides feel like I’m on the verge of combusting. I want to go up to my sister and tell her to wake up and smell the coffee. I love Blossom. She gave up so much for me. She didn’t go to college and she works as a waitress. Her self-esteem is shit, but I’m pretty sure that’s a family trait starting with our mother.

  I close the steaming spaghetti in the container and throw it in a shopping bag with a fork. Then I grab my school bag and put my boots on followed by my jacket and a hat.

  Just as I’m about to open the door, Blossom comes prancing into the kitchen in a pair of yoga pants and a heather gray t-shirt. Her wet dark hair is gathered in a lose ponytail.

  “Hey, Rebel, I made your favorite.” She smiles. She passes Preston and presses a kiss on his lips. “You two are getting along, right?”

  Preston eyes me with a deer in the headlights look.

  Blossom seems happy, and I don’t want to rain on her parade, but I also don’t want to see her getting tied down with a guy like Preston.

  “I have to get to work,” I say. I really have almost an hour, but I need out of here.

  “I thought I would drive you after we eat.” She frowns.

  “I’m all ready to go and you’ve got wet hair. We can’t afford for you to get sick. I’ll walk,” I say.

  Truth is that my leg is already in pain and I haven’t even started my shift.

  “Okay,” Blossom says, sounding resigned.

  “I can give you a ride,” Preston offers.

  My breath hitches. There is no way I am getting on the back of his bike when he is high as a kite.

  “I’m good, thank you,” I say. I try to force a smile, but it doesn’t come. “You two enjoy the spaghetti.”

  I quickly glance at my sister to see she is visibly frowning. How can she not see what’s going on? I should say something, but my bout of courage has melted like the sugar in my morning coffee.

  I slip out the door, needing to get away from this house. I don’t know how Blossom is allowing herself to fall for a man like Preston, but I can’t let it happen. The question is, how do I break them apart?

  Six

  Wolfe

  I head down to the kitchen to see what Dec has planned for dinner since it’s his night to cook. The guys have the night off tonight, and tomorrow there’s a big game against the Saklan Bulldogs. They took the national championship last year after winning the Frozen Four in Buffalo. There’s a lot riding on the line and I hate that I can’t be part of the game. The ice is where I feel most like myself, and as the team captain this year I want to lead Westfall to win the national championship. I still have senior year to play, but who knows if I’ll still be captain of the team then. We got a freshman this year from Chicago and he’s killing it on the ice. It makes me nervous about my position because in division two hockey, nothing can be taken for granted.

  I swing the kitchen door open and… whoa. I take a few steps back. “What the fuck, Dec. I need dinner,” I say, because some chick is spread eagle on our counter and he’s on his knees feasting on her.

  “Not my prob, man. I’m getting my meal right now,” he says and starts cracking up. The asshole must be drunk off his ass. It’s his night to cook, and he bails when Cole and I always do our part.

  “Not cool, man. I’ve got work to do. I need food and you need to stay sober and focused on the game tomorrow night,” I say.

  “Fuck off, Dad,” he shouts back. “I’m busy.”

  Fucking great. I walk back out to the main living area just as Cole saunters through the front door.

  “Hey, man,” I say.

  He’s got his running gear on and he’s covered in sweat.

  “Good to see you working hard,” I say. “The jackass in the kitchen is busy getting some girl off on the damn counter instead of making us dinner.”

  “Fuck, is it that Katy girl again? He was screwing her on the couch this morning. Didn’t even make it to our commerce class,” Cole says.

  “Isn’t Katy a brunette?” I ask Cole, because I’m pretty sure I know her. She’s a bunny and hangs out at a lot of the parties we attend.

  Cole nods.

  “Pretty sure the chick in the kitchen’s got pink hair,” I say. The flash of that bright hair was what caught my attention before my eyes dropped and I saw my friend going at it between her legs.

  “Shit, man. You want to tell me Declan has fucked two separate girls today?” Cole asks. But he doesn’t sound peeved, he sounds impressed.

  “He’s also pissed drunk. He needs to get his shit together.”

  “Cut him some slack.”

  “We’ve got a big game tomorrow night. He needs to have his head on straight, not go off on a bender. The fucking Bulldogs will hand us our nuts if we don’t get shit right,” I complain.

  “Fine, so we’ll catch him later and talk to him,” Cole says.

  “I’m fucking starving. Do you want to go get a bite to eat?” I ask him.

  “Nah, I need to shower, I stink. And then I need to call Granny Mae. Besides, I had a late lunch.”

  “Say hi to Granny Mae for me. I’m going to head out for a bite.”

  Cole nods and heads toward the stairs. I grab my keys and head out to the car. The wind has picked up and leaves fly around in the air. I should’ve grabbed a jacket. I look at my gas meter to see it’s getting low. I spent the last two summers working at my uncle’s restaurant in Cape Cod. It affords me enough money to pay for food and gas during the year. It was my uncle who gifted me this car when he got himself a brand new one.

  I quickly dial my sister to check in and see how she’s doing. She’s the only family member I’m in touch with. The damn phone goes to voice mail. Dammit. Where are you, Caitlyn?

  I don’t feel like eating on campus so I head to the Firken, figuring their prices are reasonable and the portions are large. My workout this morning wasn’t savage or anything, but I’ve definitely worked up an appetite. As I’m driving, I see a figure walking—no, limping—along the side of the road. I’ve gone from never seeing this girl in my life to her being everywhere I turn.

  For crying out loud. Where is she walking to now? In the dark and along the side of a narrow road. I pull up beside her, figuring I’m probably scaring the shit out of her.

  I roll the window down quickly. “Rebel, let me give you a ride,” I say. It’s not really a question.

  “Are you following me?” she asks.

  I’m starting to wonder the same thing.

  “I’m heading to the Firken for a bite,” I say. “My kitchen at home was, uh, occupied.”

  Her brows draw together. Her cheeks are red
from the wind and she looks cold.

  “I can walk,” she says and turns away from the car.

  “I know you can.” I press the gas and drive slowly beside her. “But its damn cold and it isn’t safe for you to be walking on the side of such a narrow road at night. I’m not beneath begging you to get in the car.” I whine a little for effect because this girl is stubborn and I just don’t get her.

  “What kind of begging are we talking about?” She grins playfully.

  “Any kind.”

  “How did you know I was going to the Firkin?” She raises her brows and waits expectantly.

  “You told me you were working tonight when I gave you a ride earlier.”

  She studies me like I’m some puzzle she’s trying to solve.

  “Okay, fine,” she says, like she’s the one doing me the favor. She hops inside and rolls the window back up. “It’s freezing out there. I’ve got a feeling it’s going to be a tough winter.”

  I nod. I get back on the road and head toward the Firken, but something smells good and my stomach makes a loud grumbling sound. “Excuse me. I feel like I could eat half a cow right now,” I say. “What is that smell anyway? It smells like…” I sniff a little, scrunching my nose.

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to smell up the car. It’s my sister’s famous spaghetti and meatballs,” she says, taking out the container. “Do you want it?” She offers it to me.

  “I’m not going to take your dinner,” I say.

  “It’s fine. You’ve given me two rides today, it’s the least I can do,” she says.

  “How about we share,” I say.

  “What?” She looks at me, confused.

  “You know, share. That thing they usually teach kids in kindergarten.” I laugh.

  “I know what sharing is, dummy. But how do you want to share this?” she asks, lifting up the container.

  “Open the container, put that fork inside, take a bite, then give me a bite,” I say.

  “You want us to eat from the same fork?” she asks, as if I just told her I came from the moon and she would like to know how that works.

  “I don’t have cooties or anything.” I smirk. I think of Caitlyn when she was younger. She went through a long stage of thinking boys had cooties.

  Rebel laughs. The sound is sweet, and by the looks of it, I’m guessing it’s something that doesn’t happen often. She always looks so troubled or maybe like she has the weight of the world resting on her shoulders.

  “You think that’s funny, huh?” I smile, enjoying seeing her happy.

  “Yes.” She palms her chest and can’t seem to stop.

  “Why aren’t you eating your dinner at home anyway? Who brings food with them to a bar restaurant?” I ask.

  Her laughter dies like someone dousing a raging fire.

  “Sorry, did I say the wrong thing?” My lips turn down.

  “No.” She shakes her head. “It’s complicated.”

  “Complicated how?” I ask.

  “You’re prying, Wolfe,” she says. And is it crazy that I like to hear my name from those bow-shaped lips?

  “I know, but I thought we were becoming friends,” I say, waiting for her to react.

  “You don’t have friends that are girls,” she says.

  “So you’ve heard of my reputation,” I say, gripping the wheel a little tighter. I’m not exactly proud of it. It’s just how my life goes. And with being on the hockey team, girls are just easy.

  “Is there someone who hasn’t?” she asks.

  “Fine. So I don’t have friends that are girls. You’re my first. Now, stop deflecting. Tell me what’s bugging you.”

  She blows out a breath. “My sister is dating a new guy. I caught him snorting lines of coke on our bathroom counter. I just needed to get out of there, but I was hungry too and my budget doesn’t exactly allow me to eat out a lot,” she says.

  “Shit, Rebel. I’m sorry. Is the guy living with you guys?” I ask.

  “No, but he’s been spending more and more time at our house. I just don’t know why Blossom is so enthralled with him. He reeks of trouble, and the drugs…” Her voice trails and she gets a far-off look on her face.

  I reach out to touch her hand, and she flinches.

  “Sorry.”

  “It’s fine.” She blinks twice. “It’s me, not you. I just don’t have a lot of friends. I’m not used to this.”

  Her words feel like a punch in the gut. “Look, I know how I must seem to you on the outside, but I don’t have many friends either. The guys I party with aren’t friends. My only real friends are Cole and Declan, when he’s sober and acting normal. Cole’s been my best friend since grade school. And I kind of know a little bit about people doing drugs. My mom is addicted to all kinds of prescription meds. Shit can be intense,” I say. Shit, I have verbal diarrhea around this girl. I never talk about my family with anyone, let alone admit my mother has a problem.

  She watches me intently as I pull up to the Firken. Her gaze warms my skin like the sun on a hot summer afternoon. What is happening?

  “I’m sorry. I know what that’s like. My dad used and it’s… it’s not easy. That’s why I don’t understand why Blossom would get involved with a guy like that,” she answers.

  “Yeah, I mean, I don’t talk to either of my parents. My mom is out of control and my father acts as if it’s no big deal. My sister Caitlyn and my uncle Roy are all I got,” I say.

  “It’s good you have them,” she says. “I’ve got Blossom. She’s done a lot for me. I just don’t understand how she could bring a guy like that home. I want to talk to her about it. I’ll just have to catch her alone, which may be a problem because he’s always there lately.” Seeing her so stressed makes my hackles rise. I don’t like it and I want to fix it.

  She looks at the clock. “My shift starts in ten minutes. I better go,” she says.

  “You need to eat. Stay here and eat,” I say, because it’s kind of awkward for her to bring her own food into the Firken.

  She looks at me like she’s trying to gauge me or something. “Seriously, eat,” I say.

  “Okay, thanks.” She cracks open the lid on the container and steam rises from the pasta. “Do you want some?” she offers after taking a bite and slurping noodles into her mouth.

  “I’m good. I’ll come in and order myself something,” I say.

  “You said you were starving. Just take a few bites. I took way more than I can actually eat,” she says, and I don’t know if she’s trying to be polite or actually means it, but she swirls pasta on her fork and then lops on a meatball and brings it toward my mouth.

  I take the bite. “Shit, that’s really good,” I say around a mouthful of food.

  “Blossom makes the sauce from scratch. It’s her specialty,” she says, scooping more pasta into her mouth.

  She passes me another bite, but I refuse. I don’t sit in my car talking about real life shit with girls. I sure as hell don’t share my meatballs on the same fork either, so that leaves me wondering what the hell is going on.

  “Just take another bite, Wolfe. That way I won’t feel bad about you driving me,” she says.

  “Fine, but I want a meatball,” I say jokingly.

  “That’s the only way to eat Blossom’s spaghetti. You have to have a meatball in every bite.” She feeds me again, and I want to groan from the delicious taste of home-cooked food. It’s been a long time. The food I cook for me and the guys doesn’t taste as good.

  When she’s finished eating, she puts away the container.

  “Maybe we shouldn’t walk in together,” she says.

  I place my palm on my chest. “I’m seriously offended. Do you not want people to see us together?” I don’t exactly understand what’s happening. Girls usually stalk me and throw themselves at me. They love to be seen with me.

  She nods. “You know how it is. You’re Westfall’s golden boy, and I’m the ghost no one sees. It’s like igniter fluid and a spark, the two don’t mix,” she says.
“And I don’t really like to have attention on me. It makes me really nervous.”

  “Okay, I get it,” I say, even though I don’t actually get it. Rebel is different. She’s real. There is no sugar-coated bullshit with her, and I’m digging it. “What time do you finish work?”

  “Not sure.” She shrugs. “Could be anywhere from one a.m. to two a.m.”

  “Jesus. That’s late. I’ll come get you,” I say.

  “You don’t have to do that, Wolfe. You don’t owe me anything. Besides, my best friend Holland is also working tonight and she gives me a ride home after our shift is done.” With those last words she leaves the car, and I’m left in a tailspin.

  I wait a few minutes before entering the Firken, taking the time to think of the last time I had a girl as a friend. The answer is never. I’m attracted to Rebel, but it’s not just physically. I like talking to her too, and that’s when I think that Rebel has it all wrong. Igniter fluid and a spark mix beautifully together; they go up in flames.

  Seven

  Rebel

  “Why did you sneak back here without saying hi?” Holland asks from behind my back as I wash a few of the dishes left over from lunch.

  “I didn’t sneak,” I say, even though it’s a lie. I’m still reeling from the drive here with Wolfe and that deep conversation. My head is swimming with feelings of infatuation for him and worrying about my sister’s stupid mistakes.

  Holland stands with her arms crossed in front of her chest. “What is going on with you? Don’t go retreating inside yourself.”

  She’s referring to the time after the accident. I hadn’t wanted to see any of my friends from school. I hid out at home, hoping I could hide the reality that I lost my leg.

  “It’s not like that,” I tell her, because I know first-hand how persistent she can be. After the accident, she was the only one who kept coming over, even when I ignored her. My other friends slowly melted away, as if I never existed once they saw me with my prosthesis. It had been a warm summer, and I tried to hide my leg with a baggy pair of sweatpants, but it didn’t help. My friends were in shock that I actually lost a limb. Then the whispering and staring started and I couldn’t bear it. I shrunk back inside myself. Went to school and came straight home. Lost my spot on the volleyball team. I lost everything.