“Magnolia, this can’t be happening,” Daisy says, which is another sign she’s panicking. She never, ever calls me by my full name. She grabs my hands and then lets them go, and runs her hands into her hair completely destroying her ponytail.
Her panic is making me panic, so I start to babble. “I really, really hope that you’ll be okay with this after you get used to it. Because honestly, Daisy, if you just give Tate a chance, you’ll like him. And you’ll like him for me.”
“No. No,” Daisy insists shaking her head emphatically. “We hate him. We were blackmailing him. He knew the rules and he broke them and now we screw him. Because he has done nothing but try and screw us and Hank said…”
“Hank? Hank said what?”
“That Tate is stealing our business,” Daisy blurts out. “Hank said he knows about the container home project and he was going to do it himself. Instead of with us.”
“He knows because I told him. He’s not stealing anything,” I say. Tate mentioned he was going to hang out with Hank again the other day, and that Hank knew about us so he must have mentioned the business idea. And as I have the most sickening realization of my life, the buzzer for the end of the second period cuts through the arena. “Daisy. What did you do?”
“Our sponsors for tonight’s game include The Biscuit in the Basket.” Daisy jumps out of her seat and looks at the Jumbotron above the ice where a picture of the Biscuit’s logo is being displayed on top of a close-up of one of their tables filled with food.
The announcer keeps talking, announcing Tito’s Pizzeria as another sponsor and a picture of a fresh-out-of-the-oven pizza flashes up on the screen. Daisy tries to push past me and escape down the aisle but I grab her and won’t let her go. She stares at the screen above like she’s watching a train wreck and then I realize she is…because the announcer starts to speak again. “And our newest sponsors, Manly Maids.”
And there—splashed across the Jumbotron for the entire arena to see—is the picture I snapped of Tate Adler in his underwear holding a feather duster.
Everyone recognizes him. You can hear it in the rumble of gasps, giggles, claps and whistles that erupts. They think it’s a joke. I drop my grip on Daisy’s arm as my eyes find Tate on the bench. He’s staring up at the Jumbotron while his teammates either seem confused or are laughing like the fans. But his coach definitely is not laughing. I want to die.
“Maggie, I didn’t—”
“Don’t talk to me,” I say in a low, growl of a voice. “Just don’t.”
I push my way down the aisle. I have to find Tate after the game, because I know he won’t be finding me.
19
Tate
“She’s out there.”
I look up at Lex’s remorseful face, like it’s somehow his fault Maggie Todd stabbed me in the back—and the heart. I give him a curt nod of thanks. “I’ll go out the back exit.”
“Do you want me to wait for you?”
I shake my head. “No. Thanks.”
He nods and reluctantly turns and leaves me alone in the locker room. I finish drying off from my shower and get dressed, trying not to think about what’s about to happen. Coach asked me not to leave after the game. He didn’t look angry, he looked gravely concerned, which was actually worse. I’m tying up my shoes when I hear someone clear their throat and look up and see Coach Garfunkle standing in the doorway. “Coach is ready to see you.”
“Thanks,” I say and stand up. I feel like I’m a pig going to slaughter. I can’t believe this is happening—and that Maggie would do this.
Coach Garfunkle claps my shoulder as I pass and then hands me a crystal. “Put this in your pocket.”
I look at the hunk of bright green stone he’s pressed into my palm and then back up at him skeptically. “I don’t believe in this stuff, Coach.”
“You don’t have to,” Coach replies and then gives me a small smile. “Think of it this way, you need all the help you can get and this can’t hurt.”
I slip the rock into my pocket, but the dread in my gut doesn’t lighten. If anything, it gets heavier with every step I take toward Coach Keller’s office. And as I see the dean walk out of that office and head down the hall in the opposite direction, the dread is so crushing I almost can’t bring myself to walk into the office. But I do somehow.
Coach Keller looks up from his desk, his face grim, and as I walk toward the chair across from his desk he shakes his head. “No need to sit. You’re not staying. You need to go home.”
“I’m being kicked out of school?” I say.
Oh my God.
The gravity on Keller’s face lightens slightly. “What? No. Not yet. There’s been no final decision on what to do with you, but you’re suspended from the team until the decision is made, so no practice tomorrow and possibly no away game for you later this week.”
Fuck. The dread comes back like a bowling ball rolling through my innards.
Keller sighs loudly. “What the hell were you thinking, Adler?”
“I was thinking my family was behind on mortgage payments and I needed to help,” I say honestly. “And that job was maximum pay and minimum hours, so it didn’t interfere with my classes or rink time.”
“Well that’s not true now is it? Seems like it’s interfering with everything.” Keller frowns. “I’ll be at the meeting you have with the dean tomorrow, and I’ll fight to keep the blowback from this minimal.”
“Thank you, sir.
“And I want you to show up there with proof you’ve quit that damn job, like a copy of your letter of resignation,” Keller demands as he sits back behind his desk.
“I don’t know if it’s the type of job that requires a letter,” I say quietly. “Most guys just stop showing up.”
“It may not require a letter, just like it doesn’t require pants, but you’re giving them a letter so we have the proof we need,” Coach barks and shakes his head.
“Yes, sir.” I nod. He flips open his laptop so I assume I’m dismissed and start for the door, but he calls my name gruffly before I can leave.
“I’m sorry about your family’s hardship Tate,” Keller says, the hard lines of his face barely visible because his expression is softer than I’ve probably ever seen it.
“We’re managing to hold on,” I say even though my shiny new plan for the farm’s future was stabbed through its heart, just like I was when that photo hit the Jumbotron.
“You know, if you can just stay focused, as soon as you enter that draft your financial troubles will be over,” he tells me firmly. “I believe that, Adler. You’ve got what it takes.”
“Thanks, Coach.” His words should be helping me feel better, bringing me some kind of relief, even minimal, but they feel like they’re falling through me instead of filling me up.
I make my way out of the locker room the long way, making sure not to use the main entrance where Lex said Maggie was waiting. Instead I head out the back exit that no one ever uses. Someone else is waiting for me there. It’s Patrick. Or Paxton? Telling them apart in the moonlight is even harder than the sunlight—until he speaks. “It’s time to drown those sorrows in tequila and a good pair of boobs.”
I should decline but Patrick wraps an arm around my shoulder and drags me away, and I decide to let him. Chances are Maggie will show up at the hockey house sooner rather than later, so the longer I stay away from there, the better. And although boobs is the last thing I need, a shot of tequila or six might numb the ache in my chest.
Two hours later, I fall off my chair.
Patrick and the rest of the team cheer like I just scored another goal. Assholes.
“Okay, I am officially cutting you off.” Hank’s voice floats into my ears from somewhere behind me, and then I feel his hands under my arms as he pulls me to my feet. “And I’m getting you something to eat.”
“I’m not hungry,” I tell him.
“I don’t care,” he replies and points at me. “You’re eating.”
“The staf
f here is so bossy,” I mutter and Jace chuckles.
On the way to the Biscuit I realized I had seventeen text messages. Ten from Maggie and seven from family members. Mostly Jace, but even Grams texted me. And someone—likely my dad or mom since they were both at the game—left a couple voicemails too. I only responded to Jace, telling him I was going to the Biscuit and then I turned off my phone so I couldn’t look at Maggie’s messages at all.
Was it infantile? Maybe. But I didn’t care. I was like a wounded animal, and I just needed to crawl off and lick my wounds. Jace showed up about an hour ago after he settled my family down and promised them he’d get answers. They were all at the game and according to Jace their reactions vary from irate to confused and everything in between. He’s been trying to get me to go back to the farm to explain myself but I won’t leave, so Jace is drinking pop and waiting until I’m drunk enough that he can force me into his car. That time has probably arrived, but I still don’t want to go face my problems.
The guys, thankfully, have done a great job of distracting me. We talked about the pictures, and I explained everything to them when I first got here. Everyone seemed to be relieved when they found out I wasn’t instantly expelled and that Coach would go to the meeting with me. I tried to absorb their confidence and their positivity, but all I really absorbed was tequila.
Hank drops a giant basket of fries in front of me and a pint glass filled with ice water. “Eat and drink nothing but this. Got it?”
I try to salute him but judging by his face it’s not the best impression. He rolls his eyes and walks off but not before pointing at the other guys. “No more booze for him guys. I mean it.”
Everyone nods. Jace steals a fry as he jumps off his seat. “I’m heading to the can and then I’m gonna take you home. To the farm. Dad made me promise, so eat up.”
I groan. The last thing I want to do is head to the farm, but I know I don’t have a choice. My family needs an explanation for what they saw tonight. I shovel two fries into my mouth and chew.
“Tate.”
Shit.
“Sorry Maggie, but he’s not in a good place to talk to you,” I hear someone say—it might be Paxton.
“Tate. Please,” Maggie says but I refuse to look at her. It’s going to hurt to look at her. That ache in my chest will start to overtake the blissful numbness of the tequila if I look at her. “I had no idea. I swear.”
“Please go away. I can’t right now,” I say and my voice sounds so dark.
Jace is going to wander back from the bathroom any minute and if he sees her here he will go off like a cannon. It won’t be pretty. I push the fries away. She’s still standing there. I have no choice. I get off my chair, almost tipping over again, but Patrick reaches out to steady me. I turn and look at her.
She’s been crying—a lot, judging by her blotchy red face and puffy eyes. My heart wants to break for her but it can’t because it’s already in pieces. “Maggie you need to go. I can’t right now. You don’t want me to, trust me. If we talk right now…”
I don’t finish that sentence because I don’t know what will happen, but I know none of it will be good. I’m angry. I’m hurt. I’m confused and scared and frustrated. I’m a lot of horrible things, and I’m too drunk not to take it out on her.
“I just need a second. Just one. Please.”
“No. Fuck just…” I glance over toward the bathroom doors. I see four, thanks to my drunken double vision, instead of the usual two which is not at all helpful. “Fuck.”
I march toward her, take her arm and head toward the doors. I don’t think I’m doing a very good job because I clip two tables on my way and trip as I reach the door, almost falling onto the sidewalk beyond. Maggie helps me stay upright and pushes me back against the brick wall beside the door.
Why does she have to be so pretty, even all puffy-faced? Why do I want to hold her even though she may have ruined my life? “You’re not fair.”
“Daisy did it,” Maggie says.
“How could you let her?”
“I didn’t know until it was too late.”
“You two tell each other everything. Your words.” The disbelief dripping from my voice is something she can’t miss.
“Well she didn’t tell me this,” Maggie replies and the anguish in her pretty eyes is more than apparent. “You think I would do this to you? Now?”
I don’t answer that. “She did it because you told her about us?”
“She did it before I could tell her.”
I tip my head back and feel the rough bricks behind me. “Why didn’t she know? You were supposed to tell her before the game.”
“I know. I tried. It got all screwed up. I’m so sorry.”
“That isn’t going to help me if I lose my scholarship and have to drop out,” I reply angrily.
“It was a mistake.”
“This whole fucking thing has been nothing but mistakes, Maggie,” I blurt out, and she looks like I slapped her.
The door to the Biscuit swings open and Jace is standing there, his eyes narrowed with disdain. “What the hell is she doing here?”
“I came to explain,” Maggie says.
“Come on. Let’s go,” Jace says to me as he waves me over. Then he turns back to Maggie. “There is no explanation in the world that can make me forgive you for what happened tonight. And I’m going to work like hell to make sure he doesn’t forgive you either.”
“Jace…”
He glares at me. “Shut up and let’s go.”
We walk down the sidewalk to Gran’s little ancient hatchback. He unlocks the passenger door and tries to shove me inside. I don’t want to let him but it seems like my muscles have been replaced by Play-Doh. Jace turns back to Maggie, who must still be standing nearby, as my ass hits the old seat. “I asked him point blank if he trusted you this morning when he told me about the two of you because I wanted to know how he could. Because I didn’t. And it turns out I was right. You might not have done this, but you’re still the reason it happened.”
I turn to get out of the car and tell Jace to leave her alone but he slams the door shut in my face and by the time I get it open again, the sidewalk is empty.
20
Tate
When I turn the corner to start down the long hall to the dean’s office, my heart stops. There’s a girl sitting on one of the benches that lines the administration building hall. And for the split second I think it’s Maggie my heart floods with warmth for the first time since that stupid picture hit the Jumbotron forty-eight hours ago. But then she looks up from her phone and turns to face me and I realize it’s Daisy, and my heart turns cold, back into the dead organ it’s become.
She stands up as I continue down the hall, intent on walking right by her. “I’m here to help.”
I stutter step at her words but refuse to stop walking. “You can’t help. Go away.”
“I’ll tell him I did it. I’ll even lie and say I photoshopped it. You never worked there. I was just trying to screw you over,” Daisy says stumbling along behind me.
Finally I stop and turn to face her. She looks even more like Maggie when she’s anguished. I never really wanted to know that. “Daisy, if you do that then you’ll be in trouble. They’ll see it as bullying which is strictly prohibited and you’ll lose your scholarship.”
“But I deserve to,” Daisy says.
“No you don’t.” I can’t believe I am saying it. It’s true, but I still don’t want to let her off the hook for anything she’s done. Especially the part where her actions made it clear an Adler dating a Todd is destined for failure no matter what. “And I already admitted to having the job, so don’t bother. I’ll take full responsibility and I’ll handle the consequences.”
I turn and keep walking but just like a typical Todd, she is not done. “Okay then can you please stop punishing Maggie for this?”
And now I’ve stopped walking again. My fingers in the pocket of my coat grip the crystal Coach Garfunkle gave me
because I actually decided to bring it. It might not help save my scholarship, but maybe it can keep me from murdering Daisy Todd. She scurries up to stand in front of me.
“I’m not punishing her. I’m…I don’t know what to say. My family will never ever get on board with us dating now. They know you did this. They know Maggie shot the picture and blackmailed her way into the booth. They know it all, and now this is doomed, Daisy. I don’t know how to make this work.”
“If you get back together I’ll be on your side,” Daisy says. “She’s a mess.”
“I am too,” I admit and sigh. “Daisy, I have to deal with this other mess right now, okay?”
She opens her mouth like she wants to say more and I’m sure she does but, luckily, she gets that it’s not the time. She nods. “Good luck, Tate, and I’m very sorry. I am.”
“Thanks for the apology,” I say and continue down the hall to the dean’s office.
I hold my breath and square my shoulders as I knock. The door is opened by Coach Keller. He nods and I see a flicker of approval in his stern expression because I wore my best suit. I walk in and prepare for the worst.
An hour later, I shake both their hands and walk out of there still a student with a scholarship and still a member of the hockey team. I’m also now employed part-time on the campus grounds crew, so I’ll be tending the lawns and helping shovel and de-ice the grounds when winter comes. The pay isn’t bad. As coach Keller acerbically pointed out when the dean told me the news, “It’s not Manly Maid money, but you can wear more than just your underwear.”
“In fact fully clothed is a requirement,” the dean had added.
I had a one-game suspension but I could still attend practice and after that, all clear. I was back on the team and back on track. It couldn’t have gone better. And the first person I want to tell is Maggie.
I step out of the administration building and start down the steps pulling my phone out of my pocket and reread her one and only message since this all blew up.
Blindsided: A Moo U Hockey Romance Page 23
