“Yeah, I wouldn‘t want to miss the plane back to my fabulous life.”
“I’m sorry, Ben,” she whispered.
“Me too. I really am sorry. For everything.”
He stood a breath away from her, but she already felt 1300 miles away from him. Tears slid down her cheeks, but he didn’t wipe them away this time. Instead, he grabbed his keys and phone from the nightstand, slung his bag over his shoulder and turned. Ally watched him walk out the door and drive away in his rental car.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Support Network
Whether he was training with Vin or at the gym on his own, Ben kept himself as busy as possible, allowing nothing to sidetrack him from his goals. The last thing he wanted was to think. It was paying off. Every day he was feeling physically stronger and he hoped it would set the tone for the season.
Ben also started doing something he’d never done before. He started training for on-ice fights by doing boxing drills once a week. He had never been a big fighter on the ice, that had always been Dom’s territory, but Ben wanted to be prepared for everything this season. He wanted to stay sharp in every aspect of the game. Then again, who was he trying to kid? The punching bag was a great way to relieve some of his pent up frustrations. And lately he had a lot of them.
Hockey players had to be ready for the lung-busting effort of a 45-second shift. Puck possession changed every few seconds and players had to be able to start, stop and move direction quickly over and over again at a moments notice. As a result, Vin Russell’s work-out regimen for Ben included interval training based on the game. Working, then resting. Just like when Ben was on the ice for his shift and then resting for three shifts. They had been working on polymeric training, explosion drills like jumping on one leg, squat and frog jump and clap pushups.
Ben knew the drill, all too well. But today, much to Vin’s irritation, the training process and passion of hockey was lost on Ben.
“What’s going on today, Benny? Training camp starts in two weeks and I want you in top form.” Vin looked down at Ben with his usual grim expression.
Ben was struggling to catch his breath in between sprints. “You wouldn’t understand.” And to be honest, he wasn’t completely comfortable talking to Vin about his personal life. Somehow a 230 pound body builder didn’t scream ‘shrink me’.
“Try me.” It was more of a command than a request.
Ben threw up his hands in defeat. “It’s a girl, man.”
Vin shook his bald head. “It always is.”
“Why is it that I can go up against the toughest goaltenders in the league with no fear, and I can take a hit from a 240 pound Swede, or a puck coming at me at 100 miles per hour, but the second I walk away from Ally, I have a freakin’ chunk taken out of my insides? Damn it!” This was a different kind of pain. Out of frustration, Ben kicked at a weight sitting nearby and stubbed his big toe.
“Well, Ben, I wish I could give you some words of wisdom, but it’s a tale as old as time. We wouldn’t be the men we are if it weren’t for the women in our lives. Our moms, sisters, daughters. Girlfriends. You’ve got to grab on for dear life or let her go, man. Or it’ll eat you up inside until you’re nothing but a hollow shell.”
“Wow.” Ben couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You’re right.”
“Now,” Vin said shaking off his psychiatrist hat, “16 110-yard sprints. I wanna see some intensity!”
* * *
The Roadhouse Restaurant was within walking distance of Ben’s apartment building and it was a nice evening, so he decided to hoof it. The night air was filled with the sounds of people getting off work and starting their commute home. Buses rumbled by as he walked the two blocks to the restaurant and he basked in the familiar sounds of the city.
While Ben walked by potted trees along the sidewalk, he replayed his last night with Ally. No matter how many times he told himself it was over, he still couldn’t accept it.
Thinking he had left a huge part of himself in Denver, it turned out that an even bigger part of him was now left in Red Valley. The meaning of home didn’t seem so cut and dried anymore. If home was where his thoughts were, then it was going to be a very long season.
The Roadhouse was packed with people drinking beer and nodding to the loud music. Ben scanned the crowd of people inside, looking for Barnie. Finally, he spotted him waving from a booth across the restaurant. Ben weaved through the tables and made his way to the booth.
“Benny!” Christian Barnier stood up and shook his hand. “So glad you could make it.” Barnie proceeded to introduce everyone at the table including two fellow teammates Jakub Cavanagh and Mike Murphy. “And this is my favorite sister, Cameryn.”
“I’m his only sister.” Cameryn rolled her eyes at her brother. “Hi Ben. Nice to see you again.”
Cameryn had grown up. She had long mousey brown hair that she wore loose and parted down the middle. She wore brown corduroy pants and a green University of Eureka sweatshirt. She was still a tomboy, though, right down to her flat chest and freckles.
Cameryn motioned to the girl sitting next to her. “This is my friend, Jillian, from college.”
Ben’s smile broadened and their eyes locked. Jillian was stunning and definitely not a tomboy. She was all curves and wasn’t afraid to show them off with tight jeans and a low-cut top. She had layers of long chocolate brown hair and a beautiful smile that wouldn’t quit.
The six of them ordered a ton of food and had a good time talking about everything from hockey to movies to music and everything in between. Ben was happy to temporarily lose himself in their chatter.
Jillian was fun and easygoing with everyone and fit in like one of the guys. Throughout dinner, Ben couldn’t help but notice a few lingering glances she shot in his direction. Barnie tried to flirt with her once or twice, but she brushed him off like lint. Finally, Barnie put his palms up in a defeated gesture. It was plain to see the only person at the table she showed any interest in was Ben.
As dinner wound down, the conversation moved to stories of college days.
“This guy was a chick magnet in college, man,” Barnie chuckled, referring to Ben.
Jillian mumbled under her breath, “I’d like to be his refrigerator.”
Cameryn promptly kicked her friend under the table. “Excuse us, we need to use the ladies room,” she hissed through her teeth. Cameryn pulled Jillian out of the booth. The whole restaurant could hear her berating Jillian on their way to the restroom. “I didn’t bring you with me so you could hit on my brother’s friends!”
Barnie shook his head and turned back to Ben. Ben shrugged and used the spectacle as the perfect time to excuse himself to make a phone call. He went out to the patio and sucked in a lungful of fresh air. The patio was empty except for a few lovebirds huddled together over their tables. Ben took out his cell phone and looked at the display. He hesitated, then finally dialed Ally’s number.
If he ever needed to hear her voice, it was now. Everything here was new and things didn’t seem as black and white as they used to. And to make matters worse, the city kept throwing beautiful women in his path like speed bumps. He needed to talk to her and regain his clarity. Maybe, just maybe, she had changed her mind.
The phone rang and rang and finally her machine picked up. “Hi, you’ve reached Ally and Gram…” Ben winced. She hadn’t changed the outgoing message yet. Hearing Ally’s sweet voice say the old woman’s name was like a kick in the gut.
“Uh, hey,” he said to the machine, “It’s me. I just wanted to say hi.” And a million other things I can’t say to your machine. “Call me when you get a chance. I’d like to talk to you.”
Ben sighed and thought back to when his mother had passed away. He’d felt the same kind of devastation as Ally did for Gram. Luckily, he had a strong network of friends who helped pull him out of his despair. But he was afraid it would be different with Ally. Even if he and Izzy took hold of her wrists and yanked as hard as they could, Ally wou
ldn’t snap out of it. She was shutting him out and it was driving him up the wall. It wasn’t like he had any claim to her, especially now, but that didn’t mean he didn’t still love her and care about how she was doing.
Next, Ben called Izzy’s number and got her machine as well.
Damn it.
So much for a support network.
“Uh, hey Izzy, it’s Ben. I’ve been trying to get a hold of Ally but no one’s answering at the house and her cell is turned off. I just wanted to make sure she’s okay. Have her give me a call at my new number. Thanks.”
He snapped his phone shut and leaned on the patio railing. Instead of going back into the restaurant, Ben felt like going a few rounds with Vin and the punching bag. Less than a minute later he heard footsteps coming up from behind him.
“Is everything okay?”
Ben turned around at the voice.
It was Jillian.
“Yeah. I, uh, had to make a call.”
She drew herself closer to him. He could smell her perfume. It was musky and sexy, but all he could think of were strawberries.
Damn it, Ally. Why weren’t you home?
Jillian boldly put her hand to his chest and he thought she might feel his heart pounding through his shirt. She looked up at his serious face. Her hazel eyes had flecks of gold in them. Ben thought of Ally’s crystal blue eyes and how they sparkled when she laughed. Jillian leaned forward and he could feel her breath on his neck.
Before Jillian could do anything more, Ben gently pushed her away and took a step back. He needed to put some space between himself and those probing eyes. “I can’t.” It was barely a whisper. “I have someone…in Red Valley.”
“It’s okay,” she said and took a step forward, closing the distance between them. “She’s not here.”
But she was in his heart. And his soul. And every ounce of his being.
Ben squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again. Jillian was still in front of him. She was barely a breath away.
“She must be really great--,” Jillian mumbled.
“She is.”
“--for you to still care about her, even though she let you go.”
“She didn’t let--.” Well, technically she did. With those very same words.
Let go.
“You’re here and she isn’t.” Jillian leaned in close again, this time with every intention to brush her lips against his.
“Good night, Jillian.” Ben turned on his heel and left the restaurant without looking back.
Chapter Twenty-Four
1,000 Pieces
Izzy’s timing couldn’t have been worse. She was going away with Pierce to a Real Estate Convention in Las Vegas. For four days. She felt like crap about leaving Ally so soon after Gram’s passing, but she couldn’t glue herself to Ally’s side forever. Luckily, Izzy had come up with the brilliant idea of having Ally stay at her condo for a change of scenery. Now, she just had to convince Ally of her plan.
“He wants to help me get my broker’s license,” Izzy chatted on about the testing process and study material and how Pierce fully supported her and her real estate goals.
“That’s good,” Ally told her, only half listening. She was careful not to mention anything about her fight with Ben.
“You don’t understand.” Ally obviously wasn’t matching Izzy’s level of excitement. “No man has ever given two shits about my career. All they’ve ever cared about is whether or not I’m good in bed.”
“Right. Because you’ve never mixed business with pleasure.” Ally’s sarcasm whizzed by Izzy like an arrow.
“I’ve never slept with someone for business.”
Ally narrowed her eyes at her.
“Okay. Once. He was a news anchor looking at a French style chateau and the commission was crazy huge. Anyway,” Izzy shook her head, “that’s not the point.”
“What’s the point?”
“The point is that I really like him and he feels the same way about me.”
“I’m happy for you.”
“Right. I can see how overjoyed you are. Anyway, we’re going to a real estate convention together this weekend in Las Vegas.”
“That’s nice.” Ally turned on the TV and flipped through the channels for something to drown out Izzy’s voice.
“I need a favor of you.”
“What could you possibly need from me, Izzy?” she asked, growing annoyed by the conversation.
“Do you think you could house-sit for me? There’s been a rash of burglaries in the complex and I’d feel better knowing that someone was watching the place.”
In all reality, Izzy made up the robbery story as a rouse to get Ally out of the house. The depressing little house where Gram had passed away. The house where Ally had practically barricaded herself in. Izzy didn’t think it was a good idea for her to stay cooped up twenty-four-seven. And that was all Ally had been doing for the past few weeks. Staying in and pining over her losses. One by one.
Ally shrugged and settled on a Family Guy rerun. “I guess I could leave Gram’s house for the weekend.”
“Oh, no!” Izzy smacked her palm to her forehead. “I didn’t think about you having to leave the house with no surveillance.”
“That’s okay. What are they going to steal here? Jigsaw puzzles? It’s not like I have a house full of priceless artifacts and jewels or something.”
Izzy ignored Ally’s acrid comment. She found herself doing that a lot lately. Ignoring certain things Ally said. Ally had grown snotty and bitter about things. A lot of things.
* * *
Ally went in to her room to pack a bag for her stay at Izzy’s and was confronted with the tousled sheets on her bed. The room smelled of their sex and she ripped the sheets from the bed like a madwoman. She stuffed them into the washing machine and tried to hold back the tears.
After stomping back into her room, she packed a bag for Izzy’s with mostly flannel pajama bottoms and baggy sweatshirts. She planned on locking herself in Izzy’s condo and forgetting about the world outside. Nobody, certainly herself included, cared about what she looked like anymore. She felt invisible. And that’s how she planned on staying.
She lugged her bag into the living room and set it by the door.
Before leaving, she went into the kitchen to make sure everything was unplugged and that the stove was turned off. At the kitchen table, she paused. The latest puzzle that she and Gram had completed together stared back at her. Overcome by emotions of abandonment, devastation and grief, she grabbed the puzzle and threw it to the floor. Colorful pieces ripped apart and scattered in all different directions. Pieces of sky skidded across the linoleum and clumps from the edge plopped onto a nearby chair.
The strewn pieces were symbolic of Ally’s current life. Scattered and ruined. Guilt immediately flooded through her when she realized what she did. She had destroyed something that she and Gram had put together. Choking on her own tears, she ran to the door, grabbed her bag and locked the door behind her.
* * *
“All right, sweetie. The car will be here any minute. Are you sure you’re going to be okay by yourself. Should I have Marcus come by to check on you?” Izzy was genuinely concerned, but Ally laughed out loud.
“You send that fruitcake anywhere near me and I’ll slap him upside the face.”
“Okay then,” Izzy ignored the comment and continued, “I already gave you the key to the mailbox.”
“Check.”
“And there are no plants you have to worry about watering because they’re all fake.”
“Fake plants. Check.”
“And I left money on the counter for food because there’s none in the house because I usually order in.”
“Money. No food. Check.”
“I think that’s everything then.”
Ally chimed in with sarcasm, “No wild parties. And my curfew is at ten. And no boys allowed.”
Izzy ignored Ally’s mocking tone. “I’ll be back on Monday, sweetie.”<
br />
Four days from now.
This was going to be good for Ally. A few days of peace and quiet. A time to reflect and regroup. Four days of television and take-out. The perfect remedy for a grieving and busted heart. Four days. That left the rest of today, which was Friday, and all day Saturday. All day Sunday. And then Monday.
Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.
“I love you,” Izzy hugged Ally goodbye.
“Love you, too. Have fun with your Sugar Daddy!”
Izzy straightened her burgundy cashmere sweater and smoothed her slacks. Ally should have been able to give some credit to Pierce. Ever since Izzy had met him, she started dressing like the young professional she really was. Instead of that other kind of professional.
Izzy lugged her Louis Vuitton suitcases out the door and Ally shut it behind her, turned and leaned up against it.
“Four days,” she said out loud to no one in particular.
Ally wandered around Izzy’s condo before deciding to do what she did best. Watch TV. She turned on the television and sat down on Izzy’s modern sofa with a stainless steel base. When she couldn’t find anything good on, she shuffled through Izzy’s stack of magazines. Jeez, it was like a doctor’s office. Izzy had subscriptions to every woman’s magazine imaginable. Elle, Vogue, Marie Claire, Glamour, and of course, Izzy’s bible of choice, Cosmopolitan. Ally dismissed the magazines and put her feet up on the forged metal coffee table. She hugged a stone-grey pillow to her body, switched over to the UNHL network and watched the sports anchors discuss recent team player acquirements.
Ally spent the next three days lying in front of Izzy’s perfect plasma television watching talk shows and eating leftover pizza. Ally developed the habit of watching ESPN highlights, eagerly waiting for any coverage of Ben. Just seeing his picture on the screen brought her comfort. There was buzz and excitement in the sports world about his return to Denver and the start of training camp.
At first, doing nothing was a welcome change compared to her busy life in the past. Ally was so used to barely having any free time to herself that she indulged in the lazy existence. But soon, depression gripped her and she wallowed around in her own grief and didn’t bother to change out of her pjs the rest of the weekend.
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