by Vivian Lux
A piercing whistle sounded in my ears. “Time! Hit the showers!” Coach Randall bellowed.
Brad skated up to my side and deftly inserted himself between Jake and me. “You heard the man!” he called out jovially. Then he looked at me and shook his head minutely.
I swallowed hard and nodded back. Instead of killing Jake, I turned my back on him and followed my friend to the locker room.
But like the yapping little shit-dog he was, Jake wasn’t about to let it go. He ran to catch up, still spoiling for the fight I denied him. “Want me to take your arm, old man? Where’s your seeing eye dog?”
“Do you hear something?” Brad asked the air.
I shook my head and opened my locker, then started shrugging off my gear.
“You’re slipping. You’re all talk now, just an old player past his prime, but people still jerk you off for some reason.” Jake slammed his locker shut.
“Well,” Brad piped up. “Since we’re all sharing opinions here, you’re a fucking child having a temper tantrum.” He snorted. “Grow up. You’re part of a team here. Ian’s the enforcer, you’re defense—those are the rules. You don’t get to throw a hissy fit and take your ball and go home.”
“Or puck,” Oswald interjected from the next row, laughing.
But Jake still only glared at me. “You think you’re such hot shit.”
I leaned against my locker and regarded him coolly. “I know I’m such hot shit.”
“Fucking asshole!” He finally gave up and stormed to the showers.
There was a long moment of silence that followed. Brad looked at Oswald, who was peeking around the corner, and then they both looked at me. Brad finally took a deep breath. “It’s just stress,” he shrugged. “Totally normal.”
“Totally,” Oswald nodded enthusiastically.
“Oh yeah?” I scoffed. “Just stress, that’s all?”
“Give him a break, Ian.”
“I’m going to murder him before the playoffs, you know this.”
“You need to relax, dude. Live life, have fun.”
I crossed my arms and regarded him skeptically. “Whatever, Zen Master Scott. You’re just saying that because you’re relaxed, ‘living life’ and ‘having fun’ while banging your new girl twenty-four seven.”
Brad’s eyes shone. “She’s—” he paused, then lowered his voice. “She’s amazing. Did you know she can do this thing with her tongue, where—”
“That’s it!” I laughed, throwing up my hands to ward off further descriptive details. “You don’t need to go any farther than that.” Then I shook my hands and rolled my shoulders back. “Guy’s got me all worked up when he literally is the last thing I need to be worried about right now.”
“Candace?” Brad guessed accurately.
“She’s pissed at me. She might be right to be pissed at me. I dunno.” I sat down and pulled my phone from my bag. “She hasn’t called or texted me today like she usually does.”
“Are you going to call her?” Oswald wondered. “You need to fix whatever you know is wrong.” He looked almost panicked. I wondered if he was flashing back to his divorce.
“I will,” I nodded.
Brad came over and loomed above me. “Do it now,” he ordered.
“Can’t I shower first?” I protested, laughing. “I smell like yesterday’s garbage.”
He wrinkled his nose. “Yeah, you kind of do. So, just send her a text.”
“Since when do you give me advice on girls?”
He grinned. “Since you started fucking things up with them.”
“Whatever.” I picked up my phone. “I’m sending her one now, Doctor Phil.”
Me: I just got out of practice. I hope you’re having a good morning. I’d like to talk to you soon. When can I see you?
I stared at the screen. Was that good enough? Should I apologize? I really didn’t know what I was apologizing for, to be honest. Tim fucked up and I was going to confront him about it, give him some perspective. Help him with his cold feet or whatever commitment issue he was wrestling with. That was the nice thing to do, I thought. Not ratting him out to his fiancée, or worse, his fiancée’s sister. I felt like I had done the right thing here, and I was getting raked over the fucking coals for it.
That’s what I get for trying to be nice.
“Okay!” Brad broke into my thoughts. “You sent it. Now, go shower. You fucking reek.” He waved the air in front of his nose.
“Come here and gimme a hug!” I called, reaching out to put him in a headlock. He play-shoved me back and my phone slid from the bench and landed on my shoes. We both stared.
“Shit, close call,” Brad said. “You almost cracked the screen.”
“I did?” I demanded, setting it back on the bench. “You need to watch your pronouns. It was your clumsy ass that knocked it.” This time I did get him in a headlock, and endured his kidney punches all the way to the showers.
Jake emerged with a towel around his waist and glared at us like he was thinking of committing murder right in the shower bank. “Assholes,” he repeated, and headed back into the locker area.
Brad emerged from under my arm, rubbing his neck. “Let’s never invite him out for a drink again,” he declared.
“Agreed,” I said, and then I turned the hot water on full blast.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Candace
I poured more coffee into Donna’s favorite chipped mug, and then dumped a truly obscene amount of sugar into it.
“Thanks,” my sister sniffled as I handed it to her. Her eyes were still red-rimmed, but were not nearly as puffy as they were when I first arrived this morning. “And thank you for not judging my sugar intake.”
“If it’s what you need to feel better, I’d gladly just empty the sugar jar right down your throat,” I said, sitting down on the couch next to her and sliding my feet behind her back.
“Ahh, mental clarity,” she sipped her coffee and inhaled sharply. “Finally.”
“Caffeine finally kicking in?”
“It was a late night.”
I nodded. “I know.” For me, too, I didn’t say. This wasn’t about me, even though my mind kept going back to Ian’s stubborn refusal to understand. How could he possibly think that not telling me was the right thing to do?
“You know what’s sad?” Donna said, breaking into my thoughts. “Is that I’m totally ready to take him back.”
“Why is that sad?” I wondered.
She peered at me over the top of her mug. “Because, how could I? Don’t I have any self-respect? How could I let him get away with doing something like this to me?” She set her mug down, and I pressed my lips together to keep from answering too quickly. I could tell she needed to talk.
She cleared her throat. “But—I believe him. He says it was a stupid mistake that he will never repeat, and I believe him. And I trust that, even though he betrayed my trust.” She looked at me, panicked. “Oh God, what’s wrong with me?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think you need to punish him. From what you’ve told me, he’s probably punishing himself pretty hard right now.”
“Oh, he is,” Donna nodded. “He cried, Candace. I have only seen him cry twice. Once at his Grandpa’s funeral, and the second time while watching Braveheart. He’s not someone who can fake tears.”
“So,” I was genuinely curious, “what are you going to do?”
Donna took another sip of coffee and closed her eyes. “I’m going to take today off from work,” she said dreamily, “and I am going to watch as many Channing Tatum movies as I can find on Netflix.” She opened her eyes. “Tim hates that I have a crush on Channing Tatum,” she explained. I nodded with a smile. She closed her eyes again. “Then I am going to go to the Indian buffet and stuff myself full of curry without worrying about how my breath smells. And then I’m going to paint my toes while listening to Taylor Swift, who I have had to pretend for four years that I despise but is actually like my favorite ever.”
&
nbsp; I grinned. “And then what?”
She opened her eyes and sighed. “And then I’m going to call my fiancé and figure out how we can get past this.”
I blinked. “Since when did you become the older, wiser sister?”
She smiled. “I don’t know if I became older, but I’ve definitely always been wiser.”
I threw a pillow at her. “Watch the coffee!” she shouted.
Just then my phone buzzed in my purse. “Is that Ian?” Donna immediately asked.
I pressed my lips together. “Yeah, probably.”
“You going to see what he has to say?”
I grimaced. “Before you shamed me with your maturity? No, probably not. But since you showed me up, I feel like I have to.”
She raised her coffee mug like a champagne toast. “You’re welcome.”
I rolled my eyes and retrieved my phone.
Ian: I just got out of practice. I hope you’re having a good morning. I’d like to talk to you soon. When can I see you?
I pursed my lips.
“What’s he say?” Donna wanted to know.
“Not all that much,” I sighed. “Why are men so much work?”
“You’re asking the wrong girl,” Donna huffed into her coffee mug.
I thought a second.
Me: Are you apologizing?
There. Now there was no way he could mistake my meaning. I was pissed, and I wanted an apology.
My phone buzzed in my hands. “What’d he say?” Donna had slid over to the end of the couch and was blatantly reading over my shoulder.
Ian: Yes. I’m sorry. Come see me.
“Maybe he’s like, in a rush? Can’t really take the time to type out a full response?” Donna ventured.
I rolled my eyes. “Then don’t say anything until you can actually talk,” I huffed.
Me: You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?
My phone chimed immediately.
Ian: I know. You should come see me.
Donna burst out laughing. “I would have never called Tim eloquent before, but holy crap, Candace, Ian’s making him look like a Goddamn poet.”
I furrowed my brow and stared at my phone. “He’s not usually such a Neanderthal,” I said. “In fact, he’s pretty well-spoken when he puts his mind to it.”
“Doesn’t sound like himself?” Donna asked.
I scrolled up and picked a particularly colorfully worded text from a few nights ago. Donna reddened. “Okay, yes. The man has a way with words. So maybe he really can’t talk.”
“Maybe,” I said. I sighed. “I guess it’s worth something that he’s trying?”
Me: A persistent pain in my ass.
His response fired back immediately, almost like his thumb was hovering over the send button.
Ian: I just want to see you.
I looked over my shoulder at Donna. She shrugged her shoulders. I sighed.
Me: Where are you?
Ian: Locker room
My heart did an involuntary flip, and then started to race. The locker room. Immediately, the blood warmed in my veins at the memory. I shifted, feeling that familiar ache.
My body was a traitor.
And so, apparently, were my fingers.
I scooted away, hunching my shoulders so Donna couldn’t read over my shoulder anymore.
Me: You mean like the first time?
There was a pause.
Ian: Yes.
I shifted again, and then slipped my phone into my pocket. If he wanted to make it up to me, the locker room at Johnny’s Icehouse West was probably the most appropriate place to do it. My heart thudded as I remembered his fingers delving into my skin, the warmth of his tongue heating me to an inferno while my back pressed against the cold metal of the lockers. It had been the start of everything between us. What better place was there to start over?
“Um,” I said, as I stood up and looked at my sister.
She rolled her eyes. “I’m fine. Go.”
“Yeah? You sure?”
“Listen, Candace, I already told you, I have a very packed schedule today.” Her eyes twinkled, and this time it wasn’t from tears. “You’re cutting into valuable Channing Tatum time.”
I leaned over and gave her a quick, tight hug. “Call me if you need to.”
She rolled her eyes. “You won’t answer, though.”
I decided to make my exit right then and there before my little sister made me blush any harder.
Chapter Thirty
Ian
I was too lost in my own thoughts to really pay attention to Brad. He said he wanted to grab a bite to eat, and asked if I wanted to come. I’m always fucking hungry, that was a dumb question, and of course I answered yes.
I stood in the doorway of the burrito place and instantly regretted it. Brad had been smiling extra wide and acting extra sketchy. I should have known. He had all the telltale signs of having something up his sleeve.
Or rather, someone. “I hate you,” I said, slowing to a halt and refusing to enter the building.
Brad turned around. “Suck it up, Buttercup,” he commanded, gesturing for me to get in the door.
“I seriously hate your fucking guts.” I peered around the corner. “You tell me you want to grab a quick bite, and then this? Judas, that’s who you are.”
Brad could barely contain his devious glee. “Hey, she wants to help.”
“I don’t need her help,” I grumbled.
But it was too late. Olivia had already spotted me.
“Hey, Carter!” she called from across the restaurant. Several heads whipped around, first to stare at the crazy lady shouting at me, and then back to stare at me.
“Hi there, Olivia. Nice to see you again,” I mumbled.
She took one brief moment to stand on her tiptoes and lavish an openmouthed kiss on a dazed-looking Brad.
Then she whirled on me. “So, why the hell did Candy skip work today?” she demanded, pressing a sharp fingernail right into my sternum. I winced involuntarily, though it was more from her verbal assault than from the physical one. “She says she has pinkeye,” Olivia fairly bellowed, “but that’s a load of crap, and I know it. She sounded like she had been crying,” she stabbed me with her nail again. “Why the fuck was my friend crying, huh?”
I stepped backwards to ward off her verbal assault. “Um.” I looked at Brad, who shoved his hands in his pockets and feigned nonchalance.
“I thought better of you, you know. I thought, ‘if Candace, the nicest most genuinely good-hearted person I know likes him, then I’m gonna like him, too.’” She stabbed me in the chest again, and I looked down to see that her sharp fingernail was electric blue. For a half second, I imagined a lightning bolt shooting from the tip. I was certain she would zap me if she could. “I don’t like being wrong, Carter.”
“You’re not wrong,” I said, trying to regain a little dignity. “Candace and I are just having a little spat, that’s all.”
“Did you hurt her?”
“No!”
“Did you make her cry?”
I wracked my brain. “She wasn’t crying when she left, but she might have afterward—I have no idea.”
“Why do you have no idea? Haven’t you talked with her?”
“I’m going to kill you, traitor,” I said to Brad.
“Hey, focus, over here, big guy." Olivia snapped her fingers under my nose. “I asked you a question.”
“I haven’t talked to her, no!” I exploded. “But that’s not my fault! I sent her a text, asking her to talk, and she hasn’t answered yet!”
“She hasn’t?” Olivia stepped back for a sec. “That doesn’t sound like Candy. She’s glued to her phone, especially since you two started bumping uglies. Check again.”
I dutifully patted my pocket.
Then patted it again.
“Oh, fuck. Oh no, fuck!” I said, patting down my pockets. “My phone.”
“Did you leave at practice?” Brad asked.
“Must have.
I set it down on the bench, remember?” I clenched and unclenched my fist, mentally going over the timeline. “I showered, then came back and grabbed my stuff, and then you invited me to this interrogation, disguised as a lunch.” I wrinkled my brow. “But that doesn’t make sense. I don’t remember seeing it. I left it right there, on the bench.”
Brad shook his head. “I didn’t see it either, want me to call it?”
“Yeah,” I nodded my head and he started dialing.
He waited a sec, while I kept patting down my pockets like it would suddenly appear.
“What about your bag? Your car?” Olivia started rapid-fire ticking off places on her fingers. “Did you drop it? Were you carrying it when you came in?”
I shook my head. “No. I set it on the bench after practice. After I texted Candace. I haven’t seen it since.”
Brad hung up his phone. “Just goes right to voicemail,” he said. Then he looked at Olivia and me. “Well?” he said. “Let’s go get it, then.”
I shook my head. “You guys don’t have to come, I’ll deal with this.” I hoped Brad wouldn’t guess that I was trying to escape Olivia’s third degree.
Brad nodded, but Olivia was too quick for me. “Absolutely not,” she announced, charging over to the booth and grabbing her ridiculously oversized purse and hefting it to her shoulder. “I’m following your nicely-defined ass back to the rink, and standing over your shoulder until I hear you on the phone, apologizing for making her cry.”
“I didn’t make her cry!” I protested.
But Olivia raised a murderous eyebrow. I looked at Brad, who just shrugged. “Fine,” I sighed. “But I’m driving.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Candace
The locker room was silent. No swirling steam, no sound of water hitting tile.
If Ian was trying to recreate our ‘first date,’ he was failing miserably.
“Ian?” I called. “I’m here.” I waited. “If you’re just going to jump out and try to give me a heart attack, then I’m going to leave now.”
I heard the tile squeak, and the heavy metal door slam shut.
