He fell to his knees on the ice, sliding hard into the boards, unable to stop his momentum. The pain from the contact felt good. That was when he knew he’d achieved his goal. His body was numb.
He sat there against the boards, his mind concentrated on nothing but trying to regain control—to find some kind of equilibrium. He wasn’t quite sure how long it took, but he finally recognized a pair of black skates next to him. When he looked, Sam stared down at him.
“In the words of Henrik…what the fuck, Cali?”
Callen groaned, trying to sit up. “It’s nothing. I was working out a little aggression.”
Sam helped him to his feet, but he was unsteady. “A little aggression? It looks like you just survived boot camp. What the hell were you thinking?”
His legs felt like Jell-O, and spots formed in his vision. “I think I need to sit back down.”
“Whoa, Cali. Hold on.”
It was too late. Blackness took him.
He was out.
***
Callen came to slowly. His vision blurred and came into focus at random. He wasn’t on the ice anymore. The walls had posters on them. He lay on something hard, and he could hear voices chattering around him even though he couldn’t make out what they said. He tried to lift his arm to rub his eyes, but found he was connected to something.
“Cali, don’t move.”
Hands grabbed him and the room finally came into clarity. Sam’s eyes blinked inches from his own. “Get off,” he said, trying to free himself from Sam’s death grip.
“You’re connected to an IV. If you don’t stay still, you’ll pull it out.”
Callen’s brows furrowed. “Why am I connected to an IV?”
“Because,” said another voice from behind Sam, “you’re dehydrated. Did you even eat dinner and rehydrate after practice this morning before coming back out on the ice tonight?”
Sam winced and moved to the side. Callen didn’t need to see his face to know it was Henrik. And he was in full out Captain mode. Callen tried to look away, but Henrik was in front of him now. “Look at me when I’m talking to you, Copley.”
It was bad. Really bad. Henrik never called him by his last name. Callen swallowed hard and gave his scratchy voice a shot. “I tried to eat dinner.”
Henrik crossed his arms over his chest. “Tried?”
“Look,” Callen said, and then paused to look around the room to make sure no one else was hidden from his view. “It’s been a rough month. After yet another shitty game last night, my nerves got the best of me and I couldn’t eat.”
Sam stepped up next to him. “Then why didn’t you call and cancel our practice? Why did I find you sitting on the ice exhausted half to death?”
Callen glared at Sam. He got enough fathering from Henrik and Austin; he didn’t need a third head on the beast. He gritted his teeth. “Poor decision making, I guess.”
Henrik poked him in the ribs to get his attention back. “Not an acceptable answer. Try again.”
There was no way he could tell them about Penny. Even thinking her name made him want to make more bad decisions. Running out on her today after she’d been so kind and considerate would essentially be the end of his pretty waitress dream. There was no need to relive it with his friends.
“I’m frustrated, all right? You know my contract ends this season.”
Henrik sighed. “You’ll get resigned.”
“Will I?” He hadn’t wanted them to know about the stat sheet from the coach, but he had to give them something. “Haney, that kid from the training staff, he gave me a delivery from Coach last night before the game. A copy of my stats from the last ten games. If Coach isn’t on my side, you know those vultures in management won’t stick up for me.”
Henrik took a step back, running a hand through his hair. “Coach sent you a copy of your stats right before a game? That doesn’t sound like him.”
“Says the guy in the running for the Rocket Richard trophy for most goals.”
Henrik frowned at him. “We’re a team here, Cali. We have each other’s back. We don’t use negative tactics to elicit results. We empower each other.”
“Tell that to Coach.”
“I plan on it.”
“What?” Callen shot up off the table, and Sam held him back down, but Callen grabbed Henrik’s arm. “No. No. Don’t talk to Coach.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Why? I know you’re Henrik Rylander, and contracts, points, and general amazingness falls out of the sky for you, but talking to the coach about this can only make things worse on me. As if I went complaining about him to my captain.”
Sam pushed Callen further back onto the table. “You know, he’s probably right about this one,” Sam said, chiming in. “Coach could take it as Cali whining about it instead of trying to get better.”
Henrik grumbled under his breath. “Fine. But from now on, when something like that happens, especially before a fucking game, you talk to me about it. You’re not just my teammate. You’re one of my best friends, you asshole.”
Callen rolled his eyes then looked at Sam. “Did you have to call him?”
“It was either him or Coach. I didn’t know what to do.”
Henrik stalked across the room. “You’ve got two more hours of fluids, so you might as well sit back and relax. Then, when the medical staff is done with you, you’re to go straight home and rest. Then, in the morning, I want you back here to have your blood drawn, to make sure there isn’t anything you’re lacking, you know, besides common sense.”
“Who died and made you my doctor?”
Henrik pointed his finger at him. “Don’t test me today, or me and you will be in the coach’s office in the morning, and I’ll be getting my own fucking answers.”
Sam nudged him. “Just do what he says. Don’t piss off papa bear. Nothing good can come of it.”
Callen threw his head back against the table. “Fine. I shall obey your wishes, oh grand sultan of hockey.”
A half empty bottle of water flew across the room and barely missed Callen’s face. “Fucking right, you will.”
***
Three hours later, Callen broke the rules. He didn’t go straight home. He stopped by the Midtown Bistro. It was closed. He knew it would be, but he had to check.
Chapter Six
PENNY’S GAME
Penny stood out on the roof of her quaint apartment complex. The building had a shared garden. According to Mary, the lady who owned the place, it had been abandoned and forgotten about for years, though. Mary gave Penny the key as long as she promised to rebuild the garden and maintain it. It had taken a lot of sweat, and she’d earned a few frostbitten fingers during the winter, but Penny had managed to transform the once gray and bland concrete paradise to a lush green haven.
The flowers started to bloom and the vines ran up the cross bars of the archway. It didn’t matter the direction you looked, you were welcomed with the beauty of life and the hypnotizing aroma of daisies, roses, and gardenias, among many other things.
Penny earned her green thumb through hundreds, possibly thousands, of hours spent in her grandmother’s garden as a child. She’d learned to till the soil, to properly tend to each individual plant’s sunshine and water needs. Most importantly, she found a place that brought her peace in a life that constantly disappointed her. There, milling among the budding blossoms, she didn’t think about her mother. She didn’t recall the days before her mother stopped pretending she could be an actual parent and dropped her off on her grandmother’s doorstep. On that rooftop, she could pretend she came to New York on a whim. There was no agenda that needed to be accomplished. She could act like her catastrophic failure the day before with Callen Copley might not have been the final nail in the coffin that held the answers she needed.
She refused to admit her failure with Callen hit a deeper, more personal nail, straight through her heart.
She could not have a crush on him.
It didn’t m
atter how that tortured look on his face made her want to punch whoever put it there straight in the nose. The twinge she felt at the mere thought of him was evidence of exactly why she couldn’t allow the stirring inside of her to get any worse.
She watered the plants and tended to her chores before spreading out the blanket underneath the arbor. She sat in the middle of it, crossing her legs in front of her. In that particular spot, you couldn’t see anything but the flowers. It was her spot. She closed her eyes and allowed her body to relax. She had to shake Callen from her mind, and the only way she knew how to do that was with a quiet morning there among the green life of her rooftop garden.
After she managed to clear her mind, she did her usual morning yoga routine. Downward dog. Cobra. Triangle. By the time she finished, her mind and her body were loose and prepared for another day. Footsteps patted across the concrete as Penny stood to grab her bottle of water.
“Penny? Are you up here?” It was Mary. She came around the corner, the end of her yellow dress blowing in the breeze. “Oh. There you are.”
“Hey.” Penny smiled up at her as she gathered her things and folded up her blanket. “Do you need something?”
“Well, I wanted to catch you before you left for the day. You have a delivery.”
Penny popped the top off her water and took a long drink. “I wasn’t expecting anything.”
“I don’t think it’s something you ordered. And if it is, I want to order two of them.”
Penny set her water down. “What are you talking about?”
Mary handed over an envelope. Penny opened it and pulled out a ticket. The ticket was to a New York Rangers game for that night. “Who brought this?”
“A young guy. Black hair and a lip ring. He said to tell you that he was sorry about yesterday.”
Penny stared at the ticket. She’d been in New York for a year, and she’d always wanted to go to a game, but hadn’t ever gotten up the nerve to actually do so. She ran her fingers across the shiny letters. “Did he happen to say anything else?”
“No. I offered to show him your apartment, but he seemed in a hurry.”
Huh. How did Callen even know what building she was in? Someone at the Bistro must have told him. It was either that, or he somehow knew more about her than she knew about him. “Thank you for bringing it all the way up here.”
“Not a problem.” Mary paused and started fiddling with the flowers. “I didn’t want you to miss something from your boyfriend.”
Penny grinned as Mary continued to look busy. “He isn’t my boyfriend. Just a friend.”
And not even that. Technically, he was more of an acquaintance.
The thought made her sad.
Mary’s coy smile grew. “A friend, huh? I do believe if one of the New York Rangers hand delivered a ticket to my door, I would certainly consider him more than a mere friend.”
Mary must have caught the shock on Penny’s face, because she laughed. “What? My husband keeps his blasted television on sports all day long. Though I have to admit, I probably wouldn’t have recognized him if not for the sweatshirt with his name across the back.”
Penny gently touched Mary’s arm. “We’re just friends. That’s it. He comes in the Bistro sometimes, and I make his orders.”
Mary’s eyebrow raised curiously. “Then what does he have to apologize for?”
Penny shook her head. She’d have to keep an eye on Mary. “Look, I appreciate you bringing my gift all the way up here, but you really are reading too much into it.”
Penny grabbed her stuff and stepped past her. She couldn’t continue these personal chats with her landlord, no matter how much she liked her. Penny couldn’t get to know anyone, at least not on a personal basis. Mary would eventually start asking questions. Questions she couldn’t answer.
“Since you’re up here, could you water that last rose bush for me? The sun has been hitting it directly every day, and it needs a little extra hydration.”
Mary nodded, accustomed to her usual apprehensiveness to prolonged conversation. “Of course. And might I add, it’s coming along beautifully.”
“Thank you. You should stay and enjoy it. I’ll see you later.”
“Yes. Later,” Mary said with a delicate sigh.
Penny felt horrible about her constant dodging Mary’s attempts at friendship. There wasn’t any way around it, though. She couldn’t afford to get close to anyone who wasn’t absolutely necessary. Once Penny made it back down to her apartment and inside the door, she looked at the ticket again.
Callen took the time to go to the Bistro and ask someone where she lived. Then made the trip, in person, to drop off the ticket and apologize.
Sweet. Considerate. Kind.
She’d suspected all those about him, but now she knew they were true. Maybe she shouldn’t go. Maybe she should give it all up. Life would go on without involving him in her screwed up world. He’d probably be happier that way. Everyone would be happier that way, except for her. Penny reflexively looked at the portrait of her grandmother that sat on the small table at the entryway, and her hand gripped around the tiny compass that hang from her neck. The sharp sting in her heart was as powerful now as it was on the day she passed. It had been over a year, but it still felt like yesterday.
Alone. Forgotten. Maybe that was to be her fate?
Penny looked back down at the ticket. She ran her fingers across the letters again, each individual one. It couldn’t hurt to go to the game. She wouldn’t actually get to see Callen. He probably wouldn’t know if she even used to the ticket or not.
Penny bit her lip as she considered it. Maybe…possibly…this was the break she’d been waiting for.
***
Penny didn’t know why she’d dressed up. It didn’t make any sense at all. It was a hockey game, first of all. Everyone else there had on a jersey or some other form of team memorabilia. Plus, she reminded herself, she wouldn’t actually see Callen. Still, she’d worn her prettiest dress, a long, colorful fabric that draped to her toes. It had spaghetti straps, so she’d thrown a holey jean jacket over it. She knew enough about hockey to know that the rink would be freezing.
It seemed as if every person she passed looked at her. Oddly. It made her uncomfortable, and on two separate occasions she actually turned around to go home. No matter how much she didn’t want to get Callen more involved, she couldn’t resist the opportunity. She always wanted to watch him play in person. She found her seat as the puck dropped to start the game. Callen was easy to spot. He sat on the bench, waiting for his line’s turn to take the ice. His eyes were honed in on the game, his posture tense. He didn’t look like he was having any fun at all out there.
Penny sat on the edge of her seat, finding each player as they zoomed by, flying down the ice. Henrik Rylander made a daring shot at the goal, coming a little too close to the Devils’ goaltender. Another player came up and pushed Henrik, and Penny stood. How dare they push him? He didn’t even touch the goaltender. He just came extremely close to it. There wasn’t a problem, though, because Austin skated up behind the other player, and he caught one look at the looming figure and quickly decided he didn’t have a problem.
Penny and the rest of the crowd sat back down in their seats. Funny how quickly she’d been caught up in the excitement. Normally, she watched the games while at work, or had them on in the background at home while she did other things. Now, there at the game with thousands of other people, she paid attention to every possession. She yelled and clapped for every hit, and every possible breakout attempt. More importantly, she found herself watching Callen.
She watched his movements, his tendencies, his eagerness to do something…anything. The poor guy was trying too hard. He needed to relax. He needed to sit back and let the game come to him. It wasn’t until there were a couple minutes remaining in the first period that something other than the game and Callen Copley caught her attention.
A girl with midnight black hair, one row down and six seats to he
r right, looked at her. Penny froze under her stare. She tried to keep her attention toward the ice, but she could see her out of the corner of her eye. She studied Penny, and that made her nervous. When everyone else stood to cheer when Austin made a big hit in the corner, Penny sat so she would be hidden from view.
Everyone sat as the period ended, or went to concessions. As the crowd thinned, Penny noticed that not only did the girl with the black hair still look at her, but now, so did the girl next to her. A bright redhead. They both smiled in her direction. Penny tried desperately to look the other way, but that only caused the girls to get up and move down the aisle toward her. Penny thought about running. She could hide out in the bathroom.
“Hello.” The girls stood in front of her now, their smiles big and bright.
Penny managed to strain out a smile. “Hello.”
The girl with black hair somehow grinned even wider. “What’s your name?”
Penny looked around, confused. Who were these people and why had they singled her out of the crowd? “I’m sorry,” she said quietly, “but who are you?”
“Excuse her,” the other girl said. “She’s getting ahead of herself. I’m Leila Rylander, and this is Magnolia Cross, soon to be Blakely.”
Oh no. Now she recognized them. Yes, she’d seen the redhead in the Bistro with Henrik before. They used to come in all the time before they moved. Penny kept her voice calm. “May I help you with something?”
Magnolia’s thrilled expression was unwavering. “Do you know Callen personally?”
“Callen?”
Had he told them about her?
Leila pushed herself in front of Magnolia. “What she means is…this seat belongs to Callen Copley. He bought season tickets for it. Normally, he donates it to charity every week, as he normally doesn’t have any family to give it to, but you don’t look like a ten-year old with cancer.”
The Girl With Daisies (Midtown Brotherhood #3) Page 5
