by S. R. Grey
I leave out the reason.
Dylan seems to be contemplating something before he asks, “Does this Cara live far away?”
“No. That was the beauty of it. She lives here in Las Vegas.”
Now my teammate looks utterly confused. “Wait. I’m not following. You said you two got along really well, right? You fell for each other and she lives in the same city that you live in. What the fuck’s at issue here?”
I just can’t bring myself to confess that she kept something important from me. Truthfully, I’m too embarrassed. I feel like I was duped.
So I simply state, “It just didn’t work out.”
Dylan doesn’t press. He’s not that kind of a guy. But since we made arrangements to start practicing together, I have a feeling this isn’t the last conversation we’ll have on the subject.
To be honest, I’m actually kind of hoping it’s only the first.
Guess Cara Milne isn’t out of my system quite yet.
Will she ever be?
There’s My Heart, Lying on the Floor
After Jaxon leaves, I crumple to the floor, right in the middle of the entryway. I lie still and unmoving for hours, my cheek pressed to the cool, hard tiles.
I don’t cry.
I’m in too much of a daze.
When I finally do stand up, I look down and I swear my heart is still on the floor where Jaxon left it.
“There’s my heart, lying on the floor,” I murmur as I back away, like the entry hall is a bloody crime scene.
In a way, it kind of is.
It’s where my life was forever changed.
It’s where my own crimes came to light.
The next few days, I exist in that same daze. I don’t shower, I barely eat. I put in my earbuds to shut out the world. I play Miley Cyrus’s “I Miss You So Much” loud and on repeat till my ears are ringing. I stay inside until I can’t take it anymore.
When I finally do go outside to the back patio, I watch the lizards frolic and play. Even their cute antics can’t make me smile, not anymore. They were my thing with Jaxon. And now their fun times are only a reminder of how we enjoyed watching them. And also of how Jaxon saved one the day we finally gave in to our lust and admitted our true feelings.
“Jaxon,” I cry out, sending a lizard that had ventured close scurrying away. “See, I fuck up everything.”
I have no one to blame but myself for this situation. Even though I hold out little hope of Jaxon ever forgiving me, I decide to place the blog on an indefinite hiatus. I guess I’m hoping he’ll see that and know he means more to me than Mr. Hockeypants ever could.
I don’t know if I’m secretly expecting him to call or text, but he does neither.
The only person I do hear from is Noelle.
Good thing too, as she reminds me that even though Jaxon and I are no more, I still have a life to live.
“Heartbroken or not, Cara,” she says, “you can’t stay down on the island forever.”
“But you said I could stay as long as I like,” I whine.
“Not to sulk. You need to come home and heal with people around you who care for you.”
She has a point. Plus, there’s something I need to do when I see her. I need to tell her that I’m Mr. Hockeypants. I left that part out of my sad Jaxon tale because I want to come clean in person.
That way if she wants to slap me, she totally can.
And I’ll let her since I deserve it.
Sighing, I reply, “I know, Noelle. It’s just that I hate the idea of coming back and running into him.”
“This isn’t a tiny town, silly,” she reminds me, chuckling. “As long as you stay away from Wolves’ games, you should be fine.”
“Ah, that may be easier said than done,” I murmur.
“What does that mean?” she asks, sounding perplexed.
“I’ll explain once I get back.”
A few days later, I’m back in good ole Las Vegas. I meet up with Noelle for dinner one evening after she’s finished with work.
She looks amazing when she walks into the restaurant, all tall and elegant in her dark navy business suit, her platinum blonde hair done up in a twist.
I’m going to tell her tonight about Mr. Hockeypants, but not right off the bat.
“You look beautiful,” I say when she grabs me up in a huge hug.
“You do too, Cara.”
Stepping back, she holds our hands out in front of us and nods down to my white jean shorts and pumpkin orange tee. “Look at you, showing off your awesome tan.”
I shrug and murmur a dead-sounding, “Thanks.”
“Why do you sound so sad?” she asks. “You look stunning.”
“It’s just an illusion,” I confess. “Inside, I’m kind of dying.”
“Oh, sweetheart…” She pulls me in for another hug. “I want to know why this stupid Jaxon Holland dumped you. He must have taken too many hits to the head to let someone like you go.”
I step back. “I’m afraid it’s not that simple. I brought the break-up on myself.”
“I doubt that,” she says.
Ha, wait till she hears.
The hostess comes to seat us then, so our discussion is temporarily tabled. That’s fine, since I have a feeling once I explain why Jaxon left, Noelle may very well have the same reaction.
Plagued with worry throughout dinner, I can barely eat. I pick at my salad as I listen to Noelle detail the latest news with her internship. But by the time the plates are cleared, she has me all up to speed.
“Enough about work,” she says firmly. “I want the down-and-dirty Jaxon details. And let me tell you, if his reason for leaving you abandoned on that island is shitty, he and I are going to have a not-so-nice little talk.”
“Trust me,” I sigh. “He had a good reason for leaving, Noelle.”
“Hmm, we’ll see.”
“No, he really did.”
I put my head in my hands, and she blurts out, “Jesus, what the hell happened down there?”
Looking up, I cry, “Me, Noelle. I’m what happened. I fucked things up by lying to Jaxon about something huge. Actually, it’s something you have a right to know too. And once I tell you, if you’re done with me, I’ll understand.”
“God, Cara, what the hell is it?”
I may as well just dive right in…
“You know that Mr. Hockeypants blog?” I say softly.
“Sure. Everyone knows about it.”
“Yeah, well, you know how Mr. Hockeypants’s identity is this huge secret?”
“Um, yes.”
“Well, not anymore.” I gesture to myself. “Ta-da, you’re looking at her.”
“Wait, what? You’re Mr. Hockeypants?”
It always comes as such a shock to everyone.
“In the flesh,” I mutter.
“But…but…you don’t even like hockey, Cara.”
I wince. “Uh, that was just a ruse to throw everyone off.”
She sits back. “Wow, it sure worked. You were very convincing.”
“Are you mad?” I ask softly. “Do you hate me for keeping it a secret?”
To my relief, she says, “Oh, no, not at all.”
I let out a huge breath. “Thank God.”
“Cara,” she says then, “I couldn’t care less that you have a secret blogger identity. You’re my friend no matter what.”
Tears well in my eyes. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, of course I’m sure.”
“Even if I did use some of the info you shared with me on the blog, some stuff about the players that Noel told you?”
She rolls her eyes. “I don’t care about that. Those boys deserve to be called out when they engage in bad behavior.”
“Oh, Noelle…” I swipe at the tears still welling, threatening to fall. “I can’t believe you can forgive me so easily. You’re making me cry.”
Reaching across the table, she pats my hand. “Aw, don’t cry, hon. It’s how I feel, yes, but I have to be honest,
I can see Jaxon’s side on this too.”
“I know, I know,” I whisper. “I do too. Mr. Hockeypants has been anything but kind to that man.”
“Yeah, he… Or rather, you really reamed him after that playoff loss.”
I put my head in my hands. “Jesus, don’t remind me.”
When I look up, Noelle is scowling.
“What?” I ask.
She blows out a breath. “It’s just that I don’t think Jaxon should be so quick to throw true love away. What happened was bad, but not earth-shattering horrible. I don’t know, maybe he’ll come around. Maybe he just needs time to cool off.”
“It’s been three weeks since he flew back,” I exclaim. “And he’s not made a single move to get a hold of me.”
“Have you tried to reach him?” she inquires.
“No. I’ve been too afraid.”
“What are you afraid of, Cara?”
“I’m scared he won’t respond,” I admit. “Or that he will, and he’ll tell me to never contact him again. I mean, he made it pretty clear on the island that he was done with me for good.”
Noelle levels me with a no-nonsense stare. “Let me ask you one thing.”
“Okay.”
“Do you still love him?”
“Yes, of course I do.”
“Then take out that phone of yours and text the man. Fight for him, Cara. If you do, and he’s still done with you, then deal with it then. At least you’ll know you tried.”
She’s right, so I take out my phone and text Jaxon that I’m back in town. I tell him that I still love him, no matter what.
I then add that I’m open to talk with him if he ever wants to.
With that, I hit Send.
And then the waiting begins…
Schooled by Dylan Culderway
Just as I’m coming off the ice, after an impromptu evening practice with Dylan, my phone starts dinging, indicating that I have a text.
Huh, who could that be?
More and more guys are filtering back into town, readying for training camp, but I haven’t been keeping up with anyone all that much. Dylan is the only teammate I have regular contact with, and that’s only because we practice together.
As for the others, I’ve barely spoken with Noel. I hear he’s back in town, but a girl he met in Sweden came back with him. I have a feeling there’s a story there. I could call or text him for the deets, but if he’s involved with this woman I’d hate to be reminded of how my relationship with Cara ended.
And that’s what it would do.
My phone beeps again, so I grab it off the shelf from above my locker stall.
“Okay, okay,” I bark to the insistent device. “You can shut the fuck up any time now.”
You could say I’m a little cranky today. I thought that after a certain amount of time had passed, I’d feel better about breaking it off with Cara. But the opposite has occurred—every day that goes by without her in my life, I feel emptier. I miss our times on the island, but mostly I fucking miss her.
And that makes for one miserable motherfucker—me.
As I fumble to switch the phone over to vibrate, I catch sight of the screen and see who has texted—Cara.
My heart begins racing, and my palms start to sweat. She still has such an effect on me that I have to sit down.
Wow, this is like our first contact since the day I left her at the beach house. That day feels like a million years ago.
Yeah, it’s been a million years of feeling miserable…or so it seems.
But I’m not miserable right now, knowing that Cara has texted.
I actually feel…happy?
But how could that be?
How could hearing from the one person who lied to me make me feel elated?
Because you still love her, dumbass.
“No, no. No, I don’t.”
I’m clearly in denial; even I can see that. But I just can’t make myself read whatever it is she’s texted. Frustrated, I toss the damn thing back onto the shelf without seeing a single word.
The phone makes an awful clatter just as Dylan’s coming into the locker room. He always likes to stay out on the ice a little longer than I do. Too bad he didn’t delay a few seconds more.
Now he’s just witnessed my outburst.
“Whoa, someone’s pissed about something.” He lets out a low whistle. “I thought you got out all of your aggression on the ice, man. You went at it pretty hard.”
“Yeah, I did,” I grump.
“So why are you throwing shit around now?”
“I’m not,” I protest. “That was just my phone.”
“Did it do something to you?”
“Yeah, it wouldn’t shut the fuck up.”
I stare over at him pointedly, but Dylan isn’t fazed one bit.
“Calm down, Holland,” he says, chuckling. “You’re not fooling anyone. Whoever was on your phone, they clearly have you all worked up. And I bet I know just who it is.”
“Culderway, you’re a fucking pain in my ass, you know that?”
I’m trying to sound angry, but it comes off as merely irritated. I want to be mad as hell at him, but I just can’t. Dylan’s intentions are always so fucking honorable. The dude really is a stand-up guy.
“I’m a pain in the ass all right,” he volleys back. “That’s why I’m going to ask you again why you won’t give your girl another chance.”
“She’s not my girl,” I snap.
“Save it, Jaxon. No man would be this upset over someone he didn’t still care about.”
He’s right, but I insist, “It doesn’t matter.”
The conversation ends there, but I suspect it’s only for the moment. I know Dylan. He can leave you alone forever. But once he decides he wants to know something, he’s like a dog with a bone.
So yeah, he’ll be back on me soon.
For now, though, we busy ourselves with taking off our pads and skates with our backs to one another. Still curious about Cara’s text, I keep glancing up at the phone.
I’m torn between wanting to just go ahead and read what she wrote and wanting to throw the fucking device across the room. I could then watch it shatter into a million pieces. That’d be therapeutic, I bet.
Dylan’s still quiet, so maybe I’m off the hook from any further questioning. But once he’s down to a black tech shirt and hockey pants, he comes over and sits next to me on the bench.
“What?” I snap, casting him a side-long glance. “You need me to help pull your shirt over your head or something?”
“Ha-ha, Holland. You’re real fucking funny today.”
He shoots me a look that says cut the shit.
So I do.
“Okay, okay, what now?”
“Tell me why you broke up with Cara. You never gave me the reason, and I never pressed. But I’m pressing right the fuck now.”
I blow out a breath, knowing I won’t win this one. “You’re worse than Dr. Phil, you know that?” I say.
“No, you dense fuck,” Dylan retorts. “I’m just trying to be your friend. So start talking and who knows? Maybe I can help.”
I close my eyes, and since he already knows the back story, I go ahead and blurt out the reason why we broke up, “She’s fucking Mr. Hockeypants, okay? That’s why I broke up with her.”
Dylan totally misunderstands. “What? Cara’s fucking that nasty blogger dude? How’s something like that even happen? I thought you two were all alone down on that island. Had she met him beforehand? She must have, huh? Did he fly down to Florida to screw her?”
Oh, God.
For the first time in a long time, I break into peals of genuine laughter.
“No, no,” I sputter between guffaws. “I didn’t mean that. I meant she is Mr. Hockeypants.”
He gets it then. “Oh? Ohhh… No fucking way.”
My laughing stops then. “Yeah, I’m afraid so.”
“Wow.”
“You’re speechless. Imagine how I felt.”
> He shakes his head slowly. “Dude, that is rough, no doubt. Mr. Hockeypants tore you a new one after our last playoff game.”
“Tell me about it. My ass is still sore from that reaming.”
“Well, if it’s any consolation, I saw the other day that the Mr. Hockeypants blog is on an indefinite hiatus.”
My brows shoot up. “Really? That’s news to me. Not that I’d know. I never check.”
Why would I go to that site? It’d only make me think of Cara. And I already can’t get her out of my mind.
Clearing his throat, Dylan says, “Do you want my take on things? If not, just tell me to shut the hell up and I’ll leave you alone.”
I actually do want to hear what Dylan has to say. He’s probably the most reasonable guy on our team. And he never gives shitty advice.
“Go ahead,” I say. “I’d like to hear your opinion.”
“Okay, well, first I need to ask you if you love her. Like really love her, man. Not just some case of lust or infatuation. That shit fades in time. And if that is the case, then I’d say cut your losses and move on. But if you love her for real—”
“I do, I do,” I interrupt. “I keep trying to tell myself I don’t, but I do. So just get to the point already.”
Dylan chuckles. “All right, all right. What I’m trying to say is that if you love Cara you should give her another chance. Meet up with her, man. Give her an opportunity to fully explain. I bet that’s why she’s been texting you.”
Balking, I reply, “Maybe. But I don’t know, dude. If we start talking about that blog, I may lose my shit.”
“No you won’t.”
“How can you be so sure, Culderway?”
“Because you’re not a boy, Jaxon, you’re a man. You made your point when you left the island, when you broke it off with her. Now it’s time to decide if you want to fix things or not.”
Damn, I think I just got schooled by Dylan Culderway.
Passion Reignited and Sputtered
Alone in my apartment, after dinner with Noelle, I’m plagued with second thoughts over having texted Jaxon.
It was a bad idea.
He’s not texting you back.
He really is completely done.
Great, now I feel worse than ever.
