by Kat Mizera
“Fine.” She grabbed socks and sneakers off the floor of her room, put them on, stuck her ID and phone in an armband designed specifically for runners to hold those things and headed towards the door. On impulse, she turned back to her room, dug around for her earplugs and then walked out the door without looking back.
Watching her go, Hawk felt a moment of discomfiture. Not because of their fight—he’d known this was coming—but because she was going off alone to a place she wasn’t familiar with. He desperately wanted to follow but knew that would piss her off even more. He’d call Clay and ask if anyone they knew was nearby and could watch out for her. If she wasn’t back in two hours, he’d go after her. For now, he needed to think about damage control. He’d avoided doing anything since Maddie had stumbled into his life, but he probably had an hour or two alone and needed to see what was going on with the team and his career. He loved hockey—it was all he’d ever wanted to do—but didn’t know how he’d go back after this. He’d have to apologize for something he hadn’t done. He’d have to publicly humiliate himself to protect a teammate he didn’t even like. The bigger problem was that the alternative was equally distasteful. If he ratted the guy out, he wouldn’t have a career. This was the final year on his contract with the team, the Ottawa Generals. If he told the truth about what had happened, he’d be clear of one indiscretion but would be guilty of being disloyal, a terrible teammate and worse. The bond guys shared in the locker room was directly linked to what they did on the ice and they would turn their back on him. Once word got out, no other team would want him either. Chances were the Generals wouldn’t re-sign him either way and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.
Maddie ran until her lungs burned, her muscles screamed for mercy and sweat poured off of her like rain. When she finally collapsed on a tree stump that seemed to be calling out to her, she could barely breathe. She’d foolishly left without water and silently cursed her stubbornness. She was just so damn mad at Garrett. Or whatever his name was. Had he lied about that too, even though he’d sworn it was? Replaying their fight in her mind got her mad all over again. What was wrong with him? Could he actually be a murderer or rapist, something that as much as she cared for and believed in him, she couldn’t sweep under the rug? It didn’t feel that way and her gut told her he wasn’t that kind of man. He wasn’t capable of that kind of violence. Something unethical, maybe—but he had to have done it for a reason. Not knowing was driving her crazy. Not because she didn’t trust him but because she wanted to help. Why wouldn’t he let her?
On impulse, she pulled out her phone. She stared at it a long time before pressing the button for the first number on her speed dial. Jamie.
“Maddie?” His sleepy voice startled her. “You okay?”
“I’m fine, I just—shit! It’s 5:00 in the morning there. Sorry.”
“What’s wrong?” He was whispering so as not to wake up his husband, Viggo.
“I met a guy and…” She blurted out the whole story, including being shot at. “I need to know who he is and what he did but I don’t know how to figure it out.”
“How can I help?”
“He said when I leave I’m definitely going to find out about it, so that means he’s some kind of celebrity.”
“Or a hockey player, if you mentioned my name.”
She cringed just thinking about it. “He swore to me his real first name is Garrett. Can you dig around online and see if you can find a celebrity or athlete in a recent scandal named Garrett?”
Jamie hesitated a long time.
“Jamie?”
“I’ll try,” he said quietly. “What else can you tell me about him?”
“He’s big, about 6’4”, 225, has a mohawk, lots of tattoos. He’s originally from Los Angeles but I don’t know where he lives now.”
“Ottawa.” Jamie sounded sad.
“What?”
“He lives in Ottawa. His name is Garrett Hawkins—also known as my former friend and teammate, Hawk.”
“Oh my God.” She was floored, her mouth falling open. “He never said a word.”
“Yeah, he wouldn’t. Not with what’s going on.”
“Does it have something to do with you?”
“Not specifically, but yeah.”
“Jamie?”
He sighed. “You’re already falling in love with him, aren’t you?”
Tears were puddling in her eyes and she swiped at them angrily. “Just tell me!”
“Answer the question.”
“Yes, dammit! And he loves me too. I know it’s stupid, I know it’s been like 20 minutes and we’re acting like romantic idiots, but I knew the minute he threw me down to protect me from those gangbangers! It’s real, it is!” She was crying in earnest now.
“Then you need to talk to him. Find out his side of the story. If I tell you the public version, it’s ugly.”
“So you’re not going to tell me either?”
“I…” He took a breath. “Hawk—Garrett—was my friend. I’d like to give him the benefit of the doubt because you care for him. No matter which one of us tells you, it’s going to be up to you to decide if you can live with it and if it’s something that will change how you feel. I believe it should come from him.”
“Are you mad at him?”
“I’m disappointed in him, but not really mad. We all say and do things in the heat of the moment on the ice. My friend Dom hit a guy so hard he broke his neck sliding into the boards—Dom didn’t mean it and he’s spent every day since making sure not to lose his temper on the ice ever again. People make mistakes, but I don’t know what’s in Hawk’s heart. We weren’t that close.”
“You’re my big brother—please tell me what to do.”
“You’re a grown woman. I can’t, especially in matters of the heart.”
“Tell me what you think I should do, dammit!” she cried in frustration. “I’m all alone with this guy, living some modern-day romantic fairy tale and I’m terrified I’m going to find out he cut someone’s head off and hid it in the locker room!”
Jamie chuckled. “If I thought he was dangerous, or would actually hurt you, I’d already be on my way to Florida.”
She was the one who sighed this time. “So you still trust him with me in spite of what he did.”
“I trust him not to physically harm you. I don’t think that’s who he is, and to be honest, I never expected this from him. I was shocked when I heard because he was one of the few guys I spent a little time with while I was in Ottawa and he seemed like good people—the kind of guy I’d let my sister date.”
“None of this makes any sense.”
“Go back to the resort and talk to him,” he said gently. “Apparently he hasn’t even made a statement. The league handed down the suspension and he disappeared.”
“You’re not helping.”
“The thing is, if you’re in love with him, you’re already invested. Your head will listen to reason but your heart won’t. If I tell you to dump him and walk away, you’ll always wonder—and maybe even blame me for ruining this for you. It has to be your decision. And like I said, it surprised me, so maybe something else is going on… A new medication? A death in his family? Something to make him do something he wouldn’t normally do. I’m not making excuses, I just want you to do what you have to do so that you’re okay with whatever decision you make. Trust me—walking away from someone when you know that person is part of you, your other half, is the hardest thing you’ll ever do. I don’t wish it on anyone.”
“I love you, Jamie.”
“I love you too, sweetie. Call me, okay? I don’t care what time it is, I need to know you’re okay. I still have his number in my phone—if I don’t hear from you in a couple of hours I’ll call him myself!”
“Don’t worry, he won’t hurt me, not like that. Talk to you later.” She disconnected and sat there a while longer, letting the ocean breeze cool her a little. Jamie knew what Garrett had done and hadn’t told her to go
running for cover; that meant something. Now she was going to find out what.
Chapter 8
The front door to the villa was locked and Maddie let herself in while calling to Garrett. There was no response and she looked around in surprise. Everything was very quiet and very clean. Her dress was no longer on the floor in the living room and his swim trunks weren’t on the back of one of the chaise lounges on the patio either. She hurried to his room and it was completely empty. His suitcase and backpack were gone, there were no toiletries in the bathroom and the bed was even made. He left?!
Her heart slamming in her chest, she ran to her room and there on the bed was an envelope with her name on it. She ripped it open, sinking onto the bed as she read.
Hi honey,
I know you’re mad at me and I’m so, so sorry. I never should have let things go so far but I couldn’t help it—I AM 100% yours and for as long as you still want me, you’re 100% mine. My situation is the worst kind of cluster… I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t. If I defend myself, I’ll lose my career, my salary, everything. If I don’t, there’s a 50-50 chance this will all blow over, and that’s what I’m hanging on to. People get past most scandals professionally, and I have to think about my future. Maybe even OUR future. What good am I if I can’t take care of you? You don’t want to be with some grease monkey, living paycheck to paycheck. I want more for you. More for my future baby mechanics…if you ever find it in your heart to forgive me.
You’re going to hear ugly things about me and I can’t stand to think about how it’s going to disappoint you. Please know that not everything is black-and-white. Someday, I hope I’ll have the chance to tell you my side of the story.
The room and anything you need at the resort is paid for. I’ve arranged for a car to take you to the airport the day after tomorrow. The concierge has all the details. If something comes up, ask for Clay Walker and he’ll help you.
Just for the record, last night was a hell of a lot more than romantic nonsense; I have the mark on my shoulder to prove it.
Always,
Garrett
P.S. My real name is Garrett “Hawk” Hawkins, #90, left wing for the Ottawa Generals.
She read it three times, tears splashing down her cheeks. After all this, he’d walked away and she still didn’t know what was going on. She angrily ripped the letter into tiny pieces and threw them on the floor. Annoyed she hadn’t brought her laptop with her, she blew her nose and stomped out of the villa towards the main hotel building. There had to be some sort of business center with a computer she could use. If not, she would ask for Clay and see if he would let her use one somewhere else.
She was gratified to see two computers available for guests to use, but they were both occupied and she paced restlessly, her hands fisted at her sides as she tried to relax. She had her phone but she didn’t have a data plan in the U.S. and the roaming charges added up quickly so she was doing her best to wait.
“Madison?” A voice spoke behind her and she turned to see a handsome man in chinos and a polo shirt holding out his hand.
“Yes?” She took it instinctively, shaking it.
“I’m Clay Walker. Hawk, er, Garrett asked me to make sure you were okay.”
“If I could get on a computer, I’d be able to tell you if I was okay or not!” she muttered, wincing as she realized how impolite that was. “I’m sorry—it’s been a stressful day already.”
He smiled. “Come on. You can use a computer in one of the offices so you can have some privacy as well.”
“Thank you.” She followed him curiously, dying to ask him a million questions and finally blurting out, “Have you known Garrett a long time?”
“A couple of years. He visits fairly regularly.”
“Is he your friend? Like genuinely your friend?”
He turned and met her eyes. “Absolutely.”
“Still?”
He unlocked an office door and allowed her to walk in ahead of him. He turned on a computer and motioned her towards it.
“I won’t be long,” she said, sitting down. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Don’t hesitate to ask for anything you need.” He strode towards the door but paused just before he walked out. “And to answer your question? Yes. Still.”
Maddie met his gaze briefly but then turned back to the screen. This was the moment of truth. She typed in his name followed by “Ottawa Generals.” Links popped up immediately and she swallowed hard, seeing on the screen a photo of him in his jersey. He didn’t have a mohawk in the picture, just a regular haircut, perhaps a little bit in need of a trim. He looked grim, as though he’d already been planning for something bad to happen when he took the profile picture for the team.
Her fingers shook as she clicked on the top link with the headline “Hawkins Gets Five-Game Suspension for Homophobic Slurs.” She had to take a deep breath before she started to read:
Ottawa, Canada—Ottawa Generals’ forward Garrett Hawkins received a 5-game suspension as well as a $10,000 fine for his homophobic slur during Tuesday’s game against Tampa Bay.
The NHL made the announcement early this morning stating it would no longer tolerate this behavior from players. Hawkins’ only comment to the press was that he regretted the incident. He was not available for comment at the time of publication, but the Generals issued a statement that they didn’t condone this type of behavior and would ensure it didn’t continue…
There was more, but Maddie didn’t care about the NHL’s reasoning or Garrett’s scoring record last season. She was having a hard time processing what she’d just read. It was unfathomable to her that Garrett was homophobic. Jamie said they were friends.
She hit the back button and looked at the list of articles again, searching for video. She found one that explained that Garrett’s comment was most likely due to the dirty hit on his teammate Roger Culkin. The video clearly showed a player from Tampa Bay hitting Culkin in the back, shoving him face first into the boards, but the referees had all missed it. Culkin was calling out to the nearest linesman when Garrett skated over. Maddie watched carefully—they didn’t have audio—but he said something to Culkin and then turned to the linesman who was shaking his head, pointing at the tunnel, indicating that Garrett was out of the game. He’d gotten a game misconduct for unsportsmanlike behavior and the player from Tampa Bay got away with the illegal hit.
It made no sense. Garrett hadn’t been involved in the play and had just joined the conversation Culkin was having with the linesman when he was booted out. He’d barely had a second or two to say anything, much less something bad enough to get a game misconduct and suspension. Maddie had been playing and following hockey since she was six years old and knew the nuances of the game almost as well as her brothers. She hit the replay button and watched it again, pausing it when Garrett skated up to Culkin. The linesman’s head was turned, still focused on whatever else was happening on the ice. Culkin had been yelling, his face contorted with anger as he rubbed the back of his neck. Garrett skated up barely a second before the linesman whipped his head around, said something back and pointed to the tunnel. From this angle, Garrett’s head was turned so she couldn’t see his mouth, but it looked odd to her. Had he yelled something while skating over to them? And if that was the case, why hadn’t the linesman turned to look at him until he got there?
She flipped back to another page and tried searching for exactly what he’d said, but the only detail was that he’d compared the linesman to a gay player in the league and had said that the linesman should have been attacked instead.
“No, no, no,” she whispered. This wasn’t as horrific as she’d imagined, but on a personal level it was even worse.
Now it all made sense. He’d made a homophobic slur and then got involved with not just the sister of a gay hockey player, but specifically the one he’d supposedly referenced in his comment. She closed her eyes, remembering the look on his face every time he’d mentioned what was going on
. His comments about his uncertain future. The sadness in his voice when he told her she would hate him. How sure he’d been he would hurt her. Yet what she felt now wasn’t hate; the only emotion she could muster up was confusion. The man on the ice, the one who’d said something terrible, wasn’t the man she knew.
She spent another 20 minutes perusing the internet, reading everything she could find about both Garrett’s career and the suspension. He had no history of this type of behavior, but because he’d named a specific player and referenced Jamie’s attack, the NHL had taken a hard-line to send a message to all players that this type of thing would absolutely not be tolerated. Because he hadn’t made any type of formal statement since immediately after the game, there was all kinds of speculation on his future with the Generals and in the league overall.
Her heart broke for him and for herself. She could never be with someone who felt the way he obviously did about the LGBT community, but she was still struggling to believe it. It was all there, in articles and video and every blog and sports site online, but until she heard the words with her own ears, she held out the tiniest bit of hope that there had been a mistake.
Not everything is black-and-white.
She’d torn up his letter, but still remembered what it said.
I hope I’ll have the chance to tell you my side of the story.
She wanted to hear his side. But he’d run like a typical guy, afraid to face her, to come clean. That was the part that made her angry. Why hadn’t he told her? He should have admitted what he did and given his side. He should have trusted her.
Why? A little voice in her head was playing devil’s advocate. If he’d said those things about her brother, there was no coming back from that, so telling her would only have ruined what little time they had.
She closed the computer and got to her feet, pulling out her phone. She needed to call Jamie anyway, to reassure him she was okay.
