by Tara Brown
I pause and stare, not sure how to answer. “No.” Is that the crime, asking someone to take a photo of Tandy?
“Good enough for me.” He shoos me off. “Go drop your bags and don’t worry about it again.
“I don’t understand, Coach.”
“That’s what’s saving your bacon, kid,” he growls and walks off.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Evil Canadians
Sami
“Were you dating?” Carson asks, spreading some clotted cream and lemon curd on the scone in his hand.
“No. It was just a thing. We were—I don’t know.” I hate that he’s still asking me this a month later. I’ve avoided talking about it as much as I can but he’s relentless. “It was like we were together but not exclusive. I guess.”
“But you’re pissed he got his—”
“Don’t!” I wave my hands in his face. “I don’t want to talk about this, Carson. Please. Just stop. I’m not mad he got it on with someone else. I’m mad he wanted to. Like I wasn’t enough.” I say it before I realize what I’m saying. We both look shocked that I’ve just shared something so intense and personal. Something I haven’t even shared with Nat. I don’t know why but I’m still protecting Matt from her hatred.
“That’s fair.” He brushes the confession off. “So did you hear it was the Canadian he always hung out with, Laramie, who took the pic?”
“No. Canadians are nice. He wouldn’t have. It had to be someone else. Maybe Matt wanted the picture taken.”
“No. It was him. Matt and Tandy had no idea he took it or shared it. He’s the one who sent Tandy into the shower. I think he was trying to sabotage your relationship from the start.”
“Why?” That doesn’t make sense. “And it wasn’t a relationship.”
“I think he’s crushing on Mattie. He’s being traded. Their coach is pissed. Taking photos in the dressing rooms is a total thing.”
“Wow, fuck Canadians.”
“I know, right? He’s lucky Matt doesn’t sue.”
“I don’t know about that. It’s just a picture and Matt is a dirty puck.” I roll my eyes.
“It’s not just a pic. Imagine if it were you. His dad doesn’t like hockey any more than yours does. If he sees that pic, Matt’s fucked. He’ll be out of hockey or disinherited.”
“Well, he should have thought of that.” I’m still angry. We might not have been dating; we might not have been anything more than me standing on the road telling him I liked him. And maybe he doesn’t know how hard that was for me to do. But I can’t let it go. I wish I could let him go.
“I heard you told Daddy Dearest he can pick your future husband.” Carson laughs.
“I never said that.”
“Is it me?” His eyes shine a little too much for there to be only humor in his words, but I have to assume he’s joking.
“Stop, oh my God. No. I only said I understood the need for advantageous marriages and I wasn’t against them anymore. I’m never going to fall in love. So who cares who I marry? And I only said it to appease him. He was all over me last week about Matt. I told him it was honestly nothing. He didn’t believe me. I gave him that to end the conversation.” I narrow my gaze. “And no, it wasn’t you we were speaking about. You just want me to be your beard so you can swing every way possible.”
“Better friends than forced, Sami. You should think on it. I’d be game if you were.” He lifts his eyebrows. “Lord knows we’re in the same boat. Neither of us is free to do what we want so why not control the game?”
“I guess.” He has a point.
“I heard your dad had been talking to Zach Palfrey’s parents about his future. He’s way worse than I am.”
“Doesn’t he play hockey too?” I scowl, almost annoyed that Dad would allow Palfrey but not Brimley even though they both play hockey.
“Yeah. He plays college. And he might farm team out for fun. But he won’t go to the NHL. Palfrey’s agreed with his parents; he’s finishing school and going into the family business. This is like sowing oats and nothing more.”
“Yikes.” I glance at the tray of sweets between us. We both love high tea and it always looks like we’re on a date, which makes our parents happy. “Zach’s hot but I don’t know about anything else.”
“If we’re not married by thirty, we marry each other?” Carson lifts his tea, offering me a dazzling smile.
“I don’t know.” It’s only a tea deal but it feels too mature and too far away to agree to this.
“You don’t want to be alone for the rest of your life.”
“Fine.” I say it to shut him up. I won’t ever marry him or anyone by force. I don’t want to talk about this anymore. “Anyway, Nat and Will broke up again. I hate him.”
“Huge shocker there. Even I’m getting tired of Will’s antics. Nat is too nice. I don’t know how to solve this issue.” He glances at me through his lashes. “Or any of the issues we seem to have.”
“Whatever.” I take an entire tart and stuff it in my mouth, not caring who’s watching. I close my eyes and chew. Food tastes so much better when you’re shattered and broken and devastated. It’s soothing. The sugary lemon curd melts on my tongue as I chew and moan.
“That was a touch erotic, watching you take that whole thing in your mouth. No wonder Mattie boy misses you.”
I flip him off but the words “miss me” sting.
After tea we part ways. I go home with Vincenzo and play chess with Nadia, sending texts back and forth with a bummed-out Nat, trying to cheer her up with random gossip and the positives of being single and how boys suck.
Eventually, she wants to nap, which actually means game and block out the world, so I head up to my room.
My phone rings as I reach the stairs.
“Hey, Linda,” I answer, wondering if I’ve missed an appointment.
“I wanted to check on you. How are things?”
“Sucky. But whatever. How’s it going with you?” I don’t think I’ve asked her that before.
“I called to check in on you. I want to be sure you’re okay.” She ignores my question.
“I’m fine. I mean I’m sad. I am human.” I think I have to remind her that just because I don’t show my emotions doesn’t mean I don’t have them. Or maybe that’s me I have to remind.
“Are you angry?” she asks carefully.
“I don’t know. I guess.” I sit on the stairs and really think about how it all makes me feel. Being honest with her hurts and makes me hate everything I’ve said aloud, but then I feel better. But it’s always later, after I’ve said it. In the moment, it sucks.
“Can you talk about it? Like why you’re angry.”
“I think the thing that pisses me off the most is that I did what you said: I put myself out there. I was vulnerable. And it backfired. It didn’t work at all. I told someone I have worth and they didn’t agree with me.” Tears build in my eyes as my voice turns to a whisper, “He broke my heart but the worst part is he took away the worth I showed him.” I heave a little, unable to speak for a moment. “I felt something I’ve never felt before.”
“What’s that?”
“Agony.”
“I’m sorry this happened to you. You must know you are worth so much more than how he has treated you.”
“No. I don’t know that. I’ve never known that. You always say my cruelty and cockiness are armor. You’re the one who says I don’t believe in myself or value who I am.” I sniffle, wiping my cheeks. “And now everything hurts because of it. The kind of hurt you can’t get rid of. It aches all the time. You said he liked me back.”
“I’m sorry, Sami. I really thought he did.”
“I should have just kept playing with him. I was in control. I got him and I got to say how and when.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“My chest broke, it tightened and I couldn’t breathe.” Tears stream my eyes, and I see everything I want to say, but I don’t know how so I force the words out, “I t
hink my heart fell out on the floor of my parents’ jet. And when I picked up the pieces it didn’t become whole again. It’s a mosaic and not a normal heart. It’s fractured like patchwork.”
“Amazing imagery, Sami. You have a gift. I hope you’re still writing these down.”
“I don’t care about the imagery. I don’t care about anything. Can’t you see that? You broke me! I was doing fine before.” I finally lose it.
“No, Sami. You were miserable. You came to me and asked me to help you and I did. You’re better. I like you better. You’re crying for God’s sake.”
I don’t answer. I can’t speak. I’m crying harder than I can keep up with while still breathing. I hate her. This is all her fault. She convinced me to play by rules I wasn’t comfortable with. I didn’t see it until this moment but I do now.
“The important part of this story is that you felt something for someone and you told them. It’s a start, kid. Feeling something bad is better than not feeling. You live in the zombie world of prescription drugs and detachment. So feeling destroyed isn’t entirely bad for people like you.”
“It feels bad. This all feels bad.”
“It feels terrible. But I have been there too. I was heartbroken once and my heart was in a patchwork of bad things. But over time I healed. I fell in love again. And I loved more because of it. I understood the value of love.”
“I will never love someone, ever.”
She sighs. “You’ll get over this. You did the right thing, ending it. He clearly was still not as into you. But that doesn’t mean there won’t be a boy who is. There are a million fish in the sea who would consider themselves lucky to love you.” She says all the things I’ve tried to point out to Nat, only I was subtler. “He hasn’t even tried to see you, has he?” She goes for the gut with that one.
“He came by the house a couple of times, but I told the staff I was busy and I never wanted to see him again.”
“Sami, if a guy needs to see you, your staff isn’t going to scare him off. He’s going to sit outside your house. He’s going to camp in a car on your road. He’s going to stalk the places you go. This one mistake shouldn’t have scared him off, not if he loves you. You need to cut the ties. Any further involvement is only going to hurt you. That’s my opinion.”
She has a point.
Where is he?
Why isn’t he on the street below, screaming for me to see him?
Why is my curse “Stubborn Love”?
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chance number two hundred and eleven
Matt
February 28, 2015
The cabin fever party, my annual party, is in full swing.
The team has joined us this year, so it’s double in size.
I stumble down the stairs, leaning on Brady, laughing as we head to the main house. The cold ocean air is horrid. It started as refreshing after the hours spent in the hot tub but now I’m freezing.
We stagger along the path, both of us cooling off quickly in the frigid wind. His teeth start chattering.
“Good game tonight, Brimstone.” Fairfield nods at me as he passes us, leading some brunette back to the boathouse at the bottom of the property. All I can hope is that he wasn’t messing around in the house. My mom is home.
The girl he’s with giggles and trips but he catches her, lifting her into the air and making noises like he’s a car. He’s such a douche. I don’t understand what Nat sees in him.
I hate that Carson brought him to my house. We both dislike the asshole. But it’s how society works. Had we slighted him on the invite there would have been parental issues. As in mine would have a shit fit. It doesn’t matter how old I get or removed from it I become, escaping this world is like getting out of Alcatraz. I invite the right people from the right families or in the right income bracket.
But it doesn’t mean I have to like it.
“Did you see that dipshit?” I point behind us when I know Fairfield can’t hear me.
“The brunette with the big boobs?” Brady spins, confusedly.
“No, the dick with the brunette.” I chuckle. “Of course you only saw the girl.”
“What?” Brady scowls. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing.”
“What about the dick?”
“He’s dating this girl—not the brunette—some other girl. Anyway, he breaks up with her randomly so he can get with other girls. And then when he’s done with them, he gets back with the girl afterward, so technically he didn’t cheat.”
“Bro.” Brady lifts a swaying finger. “That’s a legit play, bro. Don’t hate the player, hate the game. That’s a real way to get off scot-free. No drama.”
“You’re a moron.”
“Whatever.” He grabs his groin. “Men have needs.” He laughs, leaving his hand there too long. His words hit me hard. He has no idea what it’s like to love someone and wish you could be with them, but you can’t because you don’t deserve them.
“You mean to tell me if you met the one—the girl who just did it for you—you’d cheat on her if you could get away with it?” He can’t understand the way I do. He’s never been in love and he never will be. He’s the ultimate manwhore. He started the club and handed out the first Wiserhood cards.
“Naw, man. Because that’s a unicorn you’re talking about. That girl doesn’t exist. And if she does, I’m never going to be dumb enough to fall in love with her. Love’s an inconvenient pain in the ass. My brother used to be cool. Now he’s whipped as hell.” He loses the cocky grin. “But for real, if I ever did fall in love, and I didn’t kill myself, I wouldn’t cheat. Cheating is something scum does. You get out if you’re not happy. All those marriages we’ve seen in the hockey circuit with the playing around are gross.” He says everything a little too loud.
“Right. And I enjoyed the kill yourself part of the story.” I wrap an arm over his shoulder. “You’re an idiot.” I steer us toward the house, fighting the breeze the whole way.
“Girls aren’t part of the schedule. Finish my degree and get to the pros, that’s it.”
“Good luck with that schedule.” I chuckle, remembering how I’d had one too. I used to have all kinds of rules. I would give up everything if she would just say she’d be with me.
“My dad never cheated on my mom. He was married for a pretty long time, and he never cheated before he died.” He nods his head at the house casually, like he hasn’t just dropped the dead-dad bomb that always makes me uneasy. “I think I need to take a piss. This isn’t the kind of beach house where you piss on the grass, is it?”
“No. My mom will kill you.” I point to the large door at the far side of the courtyard. “Go through there and go to the first door on the right. I’ll meet you upstairs.”
“Roger that.” He lifts a thumb in the air and staggers for the wrong door. We’ve been friends for years but he rarely comes here. There’s a good chance of my mom hitting on him here, whereas Mom is never in the city.
“He’s going to piss in your mom’s planters.”
Spinning around I come face to face with the girl I was just talking about. “He probably is.” I don’t even turn back to check on him. I don’t care and I can’t look away from her. I have a terrible suspicion she won’t be here if I do and this will be a drunk-induced hallucination. She looks so different. Maybe better looking but her eyes are sad.
She doesn’t appear the way I would imagine her in this moment so I know it’s not a delusion. She’s different from everyone else at the party. She’s in jeans, a parka, and a wooly hat—something the Canadians would call a toque. And she’s carrying a bag of something. “It’s a cabin fever party.” I point at her jeans. “Bathing suits and flowery shirts.” I glance down at my own bare legs and flip-flops.
“Yeah, I gathered.”
“How are you?” I ask too quickly, desperate for her. It’s the weirdest feeling, but I don't bother fighting it. I gave up on that the moment I lost her. The image of her receiving
that photo of me and Tandy haunts me. I can see it. I torture myself with it. I know her hands lifted to her mouth. Her eyes, that never tear, welled up and flooded her face. Her mascara ran and she sobbed, alone. Because she’s Sami-fucking-Ford, and she doesn’t show anyone what’s behind the curtain. She suffers in silence, letting people underestimate her and abuse her. And I’m one of them.
“Good. I just came to bring a bunch of stuff you left at my place. I didn't think you were here. I just assumed you would want your stuff.” She doesn't sound like she wants to hurt me, but her words and coldness toward me do. “I wouldn’t have stopped in if I’d known there was a party.”
“It’s in the boathouse. Everyone’s down there.” I shiver slightly from the cold air on my bare arms and legs but fight looking cold. “Wanna come in?” She came to this house to be rid of me and my things, knowing I never come here. She wanted to avoid me. I deserve that.
“No.” She says it breathy, in almost a whisper. Her face is filled with regret, but I don’t know which part she’s thinking about. Which acts she regrets. I suspect it’s all the moments I wouldn’t change, even if my life depended on it. They flash in the back of my mind, each one slicing me.
She bites her lip, maybe fighting saying something she’ll also regret, maybe just to avoid talking until she mutters, “It was a good game tonight. Here’s your stuff.” She puts the bag down on the snow.
“I miss you.” I ignore her small talk and lay my heart out there for her to reject. I’m already exposed to the elements; I might as well be naked in every way. She’s the only person who has ever seen me vulnerable. Well, along with Charles and Benson, but they’re like parents so they don’t count. “I’m a fucking idiot.”
“I know.” Her expression changes for a second, possibly a twitch, but she doesn’t say anything. She waves and turns. “I have to go.”
“Wait.” I jog over and spin her around. “Wait.” I say it softer the second time. “Don’t go.” I step in closer, brushing her hair away from her face. “Stay with me.”
