Hockey Christmas (A Holiday Sports Romance Love Story)

by Naomi Niles

  I was angry. I was angry with Tyler even though I knew he didn’t deserve it. I was angry with Paul because he completely deserved it. But mostly I was mad because I had left Lizzie here, I had left her in this town all alone and Paul had taken advantage of that. And yet, he still wasn’t the one that I was most angry with.

  The person I was most angry with was myself.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Elizabeth

  I stared at my reflection in the mirror, casting a critical eye over my features. I had never spent this much time in a bathroom trying to figure out if I had too much makeup on or too little. I splashed water on my face until it was clean again and then I took out my eyeliner pencil.

  I circled by eyes minimally and took a step back. It had the desired effect. My eyes looked large and prominent; the black of the liner made the blue of my eyes seem just a tad bit brighter. I took out my nude gloss and ran it over my lips, and then I pinched my cheeks and stared at myself again. I sighed, knowing that I would never be a hundred percent satisfied with myself.

  I was contemplating what I should do with my hair when Heather walked in. She looked at me with interest as she slipped beside me to re-do her own lipstick.

  “You’ve been here a long time,” she observed.

  “Have I?” I tried to act like I hadn’t noticed.

  “Joni mentioned that you were pulling at your face when she came in here ten minutes ago.”

  I groaned in frustration. “Geez … you bitches like to talk don’t you?”

  Heather laughed. “So who’s the guy?”

  “What guy?” I asked pointlessly.

  “Oh come on, Elizabeth,” Heather went on. “There is no other reason for you to be in here so long. Don’t worry about it, hon; we’ve all been there.”

  I threw my lip-gloss back into my tiny makeup kit and sighed. “This is not the kind of girl I am.”

  “What kind of girl is that?”

  “This,” I said pointing to my reflection in the mirror. “I mean I’m not the kind of girl who skulks around in bathrooms worrying about how good or not good she looks.”

  “Every girl is that kind of girl,” Heather said giving me a knowing look. “Especially when there’s a special boy waiting for you.”

  I looked back at my reflection. “I hate my freckles,” I said running my fingers along the bridge of my nose.

  “Don’t,” Heather said as she glanced at me. “They give your face some character.”

  “Without which I would have none?” I asked in shock.

  “God,” Heather groaned. “You are so hard to compliment.”

  “Was that a compliment?”

  “Whatever,” Heather replied. “Apart from your slightly bitchy attitude, you look hot.” She finished applying her makeup and then she headed back outside towards the bar. “Although I would lose the ponytail.”

  I followed her advice and took down my hair. “Fuck it,” I said to my reflection as I turned my back on it and headed out to the bar. I washed it down and tended to the two costumers sitting front and center, all the while trying not to keep glancing at the time. It was no use however; every time I had a moment to spare, my eyes would dart to the clock on the wall on my phone on the counter. It was half past nine and Dylan was already late.

  “Hi there, doll,” an all too familiar voice said to my right.

  “Paul,” I sighed. “What are you doing here again?”

  “What do you think?” he asked sarcastically. “I’m here to drink … but I’ll admit seeing you in a bonus.”

  “What do you want?” I demanded. “I’ll send it to your table.”

  “Actually I think I’ll sit by the bar.”

  I groaned audibly as Paul sat down directly in front of me. “The usual please,” he said with that slick grin that I used to believe was sincere.

  “You love this don’t you?” I demanded.

  “Love what?” he asked in a good imitation of innocence.

  “You love coming here and pissing me off,” I said. “Because you know that it isolates me. You know that as long as you’re around, I can’t move on with my life … not really anyway.”

  “Now, that’s just not true,” he said as though he had wounded him.

  “No?” I asked. “Then what is?”

  “I miss you Beth-Beth.”

  “Don’t call me that,” I said through gritted teeth. “You don’t miss me; you just missing having someone to torture.”

  “That’s unfair,” Paul said with indignation. “Torture is a strong word.”

  I glared at him. “Do you even remember what happened?”

  “Perfectly,” Paul replied. “But to be honest, darling, I think that was an over-reaction on your part.”

  “You are such a colossal asshat,” I said trying to be the bigger person and simply walk away.

  “Asshat?” Paul repeated in amusement. “Did you learn that from one of the kids in school?”

  “As a matter of fact, I did,” I replied.

  Paul laughed. “You look really pretty tonight. Did you get all dressed up for me?”

  “You wish,” I shot at him.

  “Well I like it,” he said. “Especially that tight, little skirt. It makes your ass look big.”

  “You pervert,” I said looking at him with disgust.

  “Aw come on,” Paul went on. “I’m trying to give you a compliment.”

  “A compliment?” I asked in anger.

  “I have to say though Elizabeth … you didn’t look half so good when we were married,” Paul went on. “It’s almost like you stopped trying. In which case you can’t really blame me for everything that went wrong between us.”

  “Are you serious?” I demanded incredulously.

  “What?” he asked as though he were genuinely shocked by my outrage. “Well come on, it takes two to tango,” Paul said as though he were the victim. “And you certainly never wore that skirt when we were married.”

  “You are a piece of work,” I said mostly to myself. “Heather!” I called. “Take over for me, will you? I’m gonna wait on the tables.”

  “Aw come on Elizabeth, don’t be like that,” Paul said. “Stay and talk to me; we’re just having some fun here.”

  I ignored him and moved towards the tables. I didn’t know if he was watching me or following me; all I knew was that I wanted to get as far away from him as possible. People had their own assumptions as to why our marriage ended and I knew that some of Paul’s lies about me had spread like wild fire, not because they had any real merit, but simply because they were more interesting.

  Mostly people just couldn’t believe that nice and friendly Paul was actually capable of verbal abuse. They saw the smile on his face and they thought they knew him. I knew the truth. I knew what he was when the doors and windows were shut and no one was around. The smile slid off his face and what replaced it was something entirely different.

  “Lizzie?”

  I looked up in surprise. I had been so preoccupied fuming about Paul that I hadn’t even heard Dylan approach me. “Hi,” he said with that beautiful smile. “Sorry I’m late.”

  “That’s ok,” I said.

  He looked like some Greek god who had just landed on Earth. He was so beautiful that I couldn’t keep my eyes off him. When we had been together all those years ago, I had loved how long and silky his hair had been, but now I preferred the short-cropped hair. It put his dazzling features on full display.

  “I probably don’t deserve it,” he teased. “But can I get a kiss.”

  He didn’t wait for me to reply. Instead, he wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me to him. In that moment, I forgot that I was at work, I forgot that there were tables to be cleaned up and orders to take. I even forgot that Paul was sitting by the bar watching the whole thing. All I wanted was to feel his lips on mine, to feel his body close against mine.

  His lips had just barely touched mine when he was ripped away from me and suddenly I was staring at Paul i
nstead. “Paul …” I gasped. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Dylan fucking Thomas,” Paul said, his eyes were narrowed threateningly at Dylan.

  Dylan on the other hand looked calmly amused. “Paul fucking Kapke,” he responded, looking Paul up and down as though he were an insect that had just crawled into his food.

  “You didn’t die over there?”

  “Obviously not,” Dylan responded coolly.

  “Shame.”

  “Paul!” I exclaimed. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Get out of here.”

  He acted as though I hadn’t spoken. His eyes were trained on Dylan and nothing else. “You used to walk around like you owned the fucking town,” Paul said. “I see that hasn’t changed.”

  “You used to walk around like you had mulch for brains,” Paul swung back at him. “Apparently that hasn’t changed either. Get out of my face, Kapke.”

  “You gonna make me?”

  Dylan rolled his eyes. “Are you for real man?” he asked. “We’re not in high school anymore.”

  “Lucky for you,” Paul said.

  “Why?” Dylan asked with raised eyebrows. “Because you’d have your little gang for backup? Well, unlike you, I don’t need a three other guys at my back to feel like I can take anyone on.”

  “I can take you on just fine by myself.”

  “No one is taking anyone on tonight,” I said getting between them. “Please, Paul, just go home.”

  “Are you fucking him?” he asked suddenly, his eyes flashing to me.

  “I … none of your damn business,” I stammered, aware of everyone’s eyes on us.

  Paul shook his head at me. “I always knew you were a whore.”

  I jerked back as Dylan’s fist made contact with Paul’s face. The bar erupted into chaos and people were forced to jump out of the way as Dylan and Paul went at it in the center of the pub. I stood there, unable to jump in to help, powerless to stop them.

  “Hey, HEY!” a booming voice yelled and I turned to find Jack standing near the bar staring over at Dylan and Paul in disbelief.

  “Fuck,” I gasped knowing that Jack would not take kindly to any damage caused by the fight.

  A couple of men, including Jack, moved forward in an attempt to stop the fight but they were too late. Dylan pushed Paul against one of the tables with his hands twisted behind his back. I watched him bend down slightly and say something close to Paul’s ear. I heard Paul grind his teeth in anger as he tried desperately to break Dylan’s hold on him.

  It was no use, however; Dylan’s hands remained firm and unbreakable. He looked like he was barely exerting pressure in the first place.

  “Damn,” I heard a girl in the next table say. “He’s hot.”

  I moved away from the other tables and walked up to Dylan. “Dylan, please,” I said. “Let him go.”

  “Sure,” Dylan smiled pleasantly but there was a glint in his eye. “But first, let me show him the door.”

  Dylan pulled Paul up, keeping a tight hold on his arms and pushed him towards the door. I heard Paul groan as he was pushed out onto the street like some rabid animal. I glanced at Jack who was looking straight at me.

  “Paul started it,” I said.

  “I don’t doubt it,” Jack hissed. “You need to keep him out of here.”

  “I don’t have any control over him, Jack,” I said. “And you know that, but if you want to ban him from the bar, then go right on ahead.”

  He grunted at me. “Get back to work.”

  “My shift is over,” I reminded him.

  He gave me a side-glance. “Fine then,” he grunted again and started barking orders at Heather and Joni. On any other day, I would have stayed a little longer and helped out, but this time I moved straight for Dylan.

  “Are you all right?” I asked looking him up and down.

  “Of course.”

  “You’re not,” I said instantly. “Your lip has split.”

  Dylan reached up and touched his finger to his lip. “That’s nothing,” he said. “Barely a scrape.”

  “All the same, come with me,” I insisted. “I’ll get you cleaned up.”

  A smile spread across Dylan’s face. “Well how can I say no to that?”

  I shook my head at him and led him through the bar to the backrooms where my things were. I led him to the bathroom and he leaned against the counter while I got out the first aid kit.

  “So … it was nice seeing Paul again after all these years,” Dylan said sarcastically.

  “Yeah I’ll bet,” I replied giving him a glare.

  “What?” Dylan asked. “You didn’t expect me to just stand there while he insulted you, right?”

  I sighed. “You didn’t have to defend me like that,” I said.

  “Of course I did,” Dylan said in a baffled voice. “He has no right to talk to your like that; he has no right to talk about you like that.”

  I shrugged. “At this point I’m used to it.”

  “But you shouldn’t have to be,” Dylan insisted.

  “What can I do, Dylan?” I asked. “It’s not like I can control him.”

  Dylan shook his head in frustration. “Maybe I should have a talk with him.”

  I put my hands on his chest. “I know the kind of talk you mean,” I said with a small smile. “And while I appreciate the gesture, I really don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  “Well if you change your mind …”

  “I’ll let you know,” I replied.

  “Do you still want to do something tonight?” Dylan asked.

  I sighed. “How about we try again tomorrow?” I suggested.

  “Anything you want,” Dylan said.

  “We could meet in the afternoon,” I suggested. “And then maybe we could have dinner with your mother.”

  Dylan smiled. “She’ll love that,” he nodded.

  “Great.” After a moment, I looked up at him. His eyes were so beautiful; they made me feel calm without reason. “Thank you,” I said after a moment.

  “For what?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

  “For defending me tonight,” I replied.

  Dylan’s smile was soft and tender, but there was an edge of sadness to it as well. He reached up and grazed his fingers across my cheek. I thought he was going to wave away my gratitude as though it was his duty. I thought he would laugh and say it was his pleasure. Instead, he stared at my face with his fingers caressing my cheek.

  “I’m sorry,” was all he said.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Dylan

  Mom had her hand wrapped around my arm as we made our way up the isle to one of the pews at the front of the church. Tyler was walking just behind us. People smiled and nodded at us as we passed and I knew that my father’s death was still fresh in their minds.

  I felt my mother return their smiles with glassy eyes as though she were seeing them all without really seeing them. I sat down with mom and Tyler on either side of me and glanced around searchingly.

  “She’s not here,” mom said unexpectedly.

  “What?” I asked playing dumb. “Who?”

  “You know who,” Tyler said impatiently. “Elizabeth.”

  “How do you know?” I asked.

  “She hasn’t been to church in years,” mom replied before Tyler could.

  “Why?” I asked curiously, knowing how religiously Elizabeth had always attended Sunday mass. She had always been the more spiritual one of the pair of us and in fact it had been her faith that had held mine in place.

  My mother went to church every Sunday but my father had never been a particularly religious man. Sometimes he went and sometimes he didn’t, mom never forced any of us to go with her and if it hadn’t been for Lizzie, I would never have thought to make church a weekly ritual. Once I realized how important it was to her, I went along to try and understand what she got out of it.

  We would have long talks about faith, about spirituality and about the power of humanity and slowly I started to se
e why Lizzie might draw strength from that kind of belief. It was nice to have something to trust in even if you couldn’t see it or hold it or touch it. That kind of belief could give you all the tools you needed to survive life. Anytime I had a question I would go to Lizzie and she would do her best to answer it for me.

  There were times when she was stumped and she wasn’t sure. Rather than ignore my question or guess at the answer, she would go to the pastor and talk to him. She would get me an answer, even if I couldn’t really understand it and I would feel somehow better. I felt more spiritual just by being near Lizzie, it was as though her faith burned so brightly that its light fell on me and blessed me in some way. That was how it felt to be loved by her. It felt as though I was blessed.

  “Hmm?” Tyler asked

  “Why hasn’t Lizzie been to church in years?” I repeated the question.

  “You’d have to ask her,” Tyler replied.

  Through the whole sermon, I sat there wondering what had happened, why Lizzie had stopped coming for mass. I noticed that Maddie was there, sitting a few pews down from us and I made a mental note to talk to her after the congregation had dispersed. I barely concentrated on what the pastor was saying; my head kept flitting to Elizabeth, then to my upcoming deployment and then back to Elizabeth. I was on an unending loop in my head that I couldn’t seem to escape.

  Finally the pastor concluded his sermon and we rose to our feet and made out way outside. I stood with mom and Tyler until I saw Maddie emerge from the church’s entrance.

  “Excuse me,” I said to mom and Tyler as I moved off in her direction. “Maddie!” I called, waving to catch her attention.

  “Dylan,” she greeted with a smile. “Hi, how are you?”

  “Good,” I nodded distractedly. “I didn’t see Lizzie here today?”

  “Ah, no, you wouldn’t have,” Maddie replied. “She doesn’t really come to church anymore.”

  “Is there a reason?”

  Maddie sighed. “She had a hard marriage, Dylan,” she explained. “I think it shook her faith a little. She was still married to Paul when she stopped coming to church, and after the divorce … I guess she was too far gone to come back from that.”