She looked like shit. She looked like she had been crying recently. Her attire was baggy - probably the clothes she wore around the house or to bed - and her blonde hair seemed flat and pulled up into a ponytail.
“Hey, kid,” I said.
I wasn’t typically this awkward. I grunted responses and greetings and everything else and I was perfectly fine with it. But when she shot me a questioning look with her blue eyes rimmed red, I felt powerless. I was rooted to my spot and even I couldn’t help but think, Who the hell was I and what the fuck was I doing here?
Chloe didn’t respond. She just kept looking at me. It made me feel inadequate and uncomfortable. At least she hadn’t slammed the door in my face.
“You have flowers on your deck,” I said. Like a fucking awkward asshole.
Jesus, I was fucking hopeless.
What the fuck was happening to me?
“Again,” I continued. “I saw you drive up and I figured I would ask before I threw them away.”
Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.
This was so stupid. God, I was a fucking idiot.
“Get rid of them,” she said in a quiet voice. But there was an edge to her tone. A persistent edge.
She looked at the flowers like she wanted nothing to do with them. Like even the sight of them made her entire body seize up with... fear?
What the fuck was going on?
Chloe was awkward and clumsy. I didn’t take her for the type to be afraid of things. Especially not something as innocuous as flowers.
It was obvious she knew whoever was sending her these flowers. Which meant she knew he knew where she lived. Which meant she didn’t feel safe, even in her own home.
The fact that she had left for work and then came back...
I couldn’t be sure but if I had to guess, I would say that the fucker found out where she worked as well. Whether he showed up there or if there was another bouquet of flowers, I didn’t know.
This wasn’t a great romantic gesture. This was him being an asshole. It was a power play. He was telling her that he found her and he knew the two places she spent the majority of her time.
For whatever reason, that pissed me off. I didn’t know why. I didn’t know Chloe very well. But I had a baby sister and if she was experiencing a fraction of what Chloe seemed to be, I would kill the motherfucker and then turn myself in. I would be fucking proud to go to prison for the rest of my life because there was no way in hell I was going to let someone treat her that way.
Something about Chloe made me want to protect her. I wasn’t sure yet if I would go to great lengths to kill this fucker but I would be happy to smash his teeth in if it meant he would leave her alone.
“Listen,” I told her in a gruff voice. Maybe I needed to smooth it out, make it seem like I wasn’t as grouchy, but I couldn’t exactly help it. “Are you okay?”
She blinked up at me in surprise. “Well, yeah,” she managed to get out.
Her voice was scratchy, probably because she had been crying, and it came out raw and not her usual bubbly self.
“Why do you ask?”
I sighed through my nose and looked away. This was the hard part.
“This isn’t any of my business,” I began, sliding my eyes back over to her. “But I saw you leave this morning and now you’re back. When I came home from my morning skate, I saw more roses on your porch. I notice your reaction to them. I can see you’re fucking scared. Are you okay?”
Chloe was silent for a long time.
I knew I shouldn’t have pressed. This wasn’t any of my business. But I wanted her to know that I noticed. I wanted her to know that I was here, even though she didn’t know me. She definitely didn’t trust me if she was having these issues. I was just another guy that could turn into being a threat. It didn’t matter that I was an NHL player. I was still a stranger.
And I realized that I didn’t want to be a stranger to her anymore.
I wasn’t expecting us to be friends. And as attracted to her as I was, I wasn’t going to ask her out or put any sort of pressure on her to behave a certain way with me.
But I wanted to get to know her. I wanted to be part of her life. I didn’t think she had many people she could trust, and for some reason, it was important for me to be one of those people. I knew I would have to earn it. I knew she wouldn’t just give me the privilege because of who I was or what I did. I would have to earn that right. I understood that. I had no problem doing that. As long as she gave me a chance.
Not that she owed me anything.
I just hoped that she would.
“Look,” I said again. Couldn’t I think of something more than just look? Was I that much of an idiot that my vocabulary just disappeared? “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have confronted you. This isn’t any of my business and I have no fucking right questioning you. I’m just going to go.”
More like pour myself a glass of bourbon and watch shit television. I didn’t even care that it was only ten in the morning. I was already acting like a jackass. Might as well keep going and drink casually in the morning.
“Do you want to come in?”
Her voice was hesitant. She wasn’t sure if she could trust he but she wanted to. And that was significant. She wanted to trust me.
“Um, sure.”
“You can throw the roses away,” she said quickly, her blue eyes dropping to the vase in my hands.
I looked down and nodded my head. Her garbage can was still out there and it didn’t take me long to dump this case inside of it. She still refused to open her door all the way and only opened it to fit my frame even as I walked inside. She smelled like vanilla and some flower that I didn’t recognize. Girly. Feminine.
I liked it.
I rolled my eyes and hoped she didn’t see. I didn’t need her interpreting my gestures as a result of something she did or didn’t do.
After she shut the door, I watched as she locked it and then double-checked to ensure the locks worked.
This girl was petrified.
“So,” I said, needing to fill up the silence. “Looks like we have the same model.”
“What?” she asked, confused. “Oh. The house.” She looked around the room. “Yeah, well that’s Irvine for you.”
I couldn’t tell if she was bitter because she genuinely didn’t like it or if she was just scared.
If I had to guess, it was probably the latter.
“Did you, um, did you want some coffee?” she asked.
“Stop.” I closed my eyes, clenching my jaw together while mentally chastising myself for my lack of compassion. Who the hell was I to tell her to stop? This wasn’t my place. And I definitely didn’t have to be a dick about it. “I just...” I opened my eyes so I could lock eyes with her. “You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to pretend that we’re friends and that I came to visit you and you’re going to make me coffee because that’s what’s expected of you.”
Chloe looked up at me. There was a spark of defiance in those blue eyes. I decided I liked it. I liked that she could be both vulnerable and spunky. That she could be scared and still able to take care of herself.
“What do you want from me, Mr. Jackman?” she asked.
I smirked. “Mr. Jackman?” I asked. “I don’t think I’ve ever been called that before.”
“Well, what would you like me to call you?” she asked.
“No need for attitude, kid,” I said. I forced myself to smile, hoping she would realize that I was teasing her. It probably came out like a grimace. “Call me Art. Jackman. Whatever you prefer.”
“What do you prefer?” She asked me and I realized she was genuine in her concern.
No one had ever asked me what I wanted to be called. Everyone just called me Jackman. Some called me Jackie as a nickname on the team. No one really called me Art or Arthur. Granted, it wasn’t a hugely popular name anymore. My mom was a romantic and named me after the greatest king she thought existed. It was a strong name, a name I appreciated more as
I grew older, but one I hated as a kid.
“Art works for me, I guess,” I said with a shrug.
“Art,” she said as though she was testing it, getting used to the way it felt in her mouth, on her tongue.
I liked the way she said it. Suddenly, she was the only person I wanted calling me that.
God, I was pathetic.
“I’m here because I saw flowers on your porch,” I explained. “I remembered how you reacted last time this happened. I didn’t want you to deal with it so I grabbed them. But then, I didn’t know if this was even my fucking business in the first place. So I wanted you to know they were there and then ask what you wanted me to do with them. And I thought it was off that you’re home now. So I guess I wanted to check on you and make sure you were okay.”
Fuck me. Just fuck me right now. God, I was the biggest jackass.
Maybe that should be my nickname.
Her lips curled up but the small smile didn’t reach her eyes. She appreciated my effort but it wasn’t enough to distract her. Which was fine. I wasn’t going to take it personally. I understood she was dealing with shit I wouldn’t even know how to handle.
“I’m surprised you care,” she said and then immediately shifted with discomfort. “Not that you don’t care. I mean, I’m sure you can be a caring guy. It’s just, we don’t know each other well enough for you to care about me. But, um, thanks. For checking on me.”
Before she could say anything more, a knock on the door interrupted us.
5
Chloe
I froze when I heard the knock on my door.
I wasn’t expecting anyone.
Hell, I wasn’t expecting Art Jackman, let alone anyone else. I didn’t have friends who came to visit me just because. I barely had ten numbers in my phone, and one of those numbers was my work just in case.
When I got to the door, my entire body seized up. It was like I already knew. I already knew Tim was at my door. I didn’t know how I knew. It wasn’t like I could smell his expensive cologne wafting through the door and I definitely didn’t hear his silver Mustang rumble up on my street.
But I knew.
My eyes shifted over to Art, who was looking at me with a peculiar expression on his face. He hadn’t left the dining room. But I could tell his body was tense, like he was ready to spring up into action if I needed him.
I felt a small bit of relief, knowing he was here. It wasn’t like I felt safe but I felt... better. And that had to mean something.
I didn’t answer the door. I didn’t even let myself breathe. I just waited, hoping he would go away.
“Chloe,” he sing-songed outside my door.
I had to clamp my hand over my mouth to keep a sob from escaping. I hadn’t heard that voice in so long. I hated that I heard it now.
“I know you’re in there,” he continued.
Even though there was a door blocking us, protecting me, it was like I could feel him here inside my house.
“My roses are gone.”
There was a smile on his voice. A smile that said he had won because he found me. A smile that said he knew how much I hated roses and he sent dozens upon dozens to be just to be an asshole. Just because he could.
It was a power trip and I hated it.
“I delivered them to your door just before eight because I wanted to make sure you got them before work,” Tim continued. Arrogance tainted his tone and I stopped myself from snarling. I didn’t have to respond. I wouldn’t respond. Then he would really win. “On the off-chance you missed them, I had some delivered to your work as well. Did you get those?”
How did he even know I went to work in the first place today?
He knew. Of course he knew. He knew everything because he had the means to pay for the information.
“I’ve missed you,” he said. I could hear creeks from the wooden deck and knew he was pacing in front of my door, like a stray cat waiting to be fed. “It took me a long time to finally track you down but I did. Thank God for transparent government jobs, huh?”
I mouthed the word fuck under my breath. Jesus, I was stupid. How could I forget working for the government meant the public had a right to know who the employees were and their salaries.
Fuck me.
I glanced back over at Art and saw him standing in the doorway of the kitchen. His entire body was tense and he was looking at me like all I needed to do was nod and he would handle it. I didn’t know how he would handle it. But there was a part of me that appreciated his presence. I wasn’t alone right now.
Maybe that was what helped keep me strong. At least, in front of Art, I was forced to keep my shit together.
“I know you’re in there, Chloe,” Tim continued.
I could picture him now, leaning forward, resting his forehead on my front door.
The thing about Tim was, he wasn’t intimidating. He was maybe five foot ten, lean but perhaps scrawny depending on what he wore. He looked like the quintessential good boy, a kind face, blue eyes, a friendly smile. But there was a darkness underneath his warm exterior. A physical strength I didn’t know he possessed.
And that was what scared me the most about him. How normal he looked. How completely unsuspecting he was. No one would think he was as vicious, as dangerous, as he truly was. People would pass him by without even a second glance. Girls would fall for his charm and his smile, just like I did.
“You know I have no problem waiting outside until you have to get your mail or you need to go grocery shopping,” he said. “Do you still go through boxes of Lucky Charms like lightning? I think I had to go to Costco every other week to get the bundle they were selling. Do you remember how I would joke that half my paycheck went to buying you cereal?”
I swallowed. I hated him. I hated this. I hated myself for the tears accumulating in my eyes.
I refused to be a victim.
I took a deep breath. I counted down from five.
I could feel Art right behind me, a safe distance away so he wasn’t touching me but close enough to let me know he was here. As much as I appreciated this, I knew I would have to handle this on my own.
“I don’t want to see you, Tim,” I managed to get out.
“What was that?” Tim asked. “Speak up. I can’t hear you.”
I clenched my teeth together. I knew I sounded weak. Now, I wanted to be better. Stronger.
“I don’t want to see you again, Tim,” I said, this time ensuring my voice did not waver. My hands were tight fists at my side. “Please leave.”
There was another moment of long silence. I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until I needed to breathe and sucked in a big breath as quietly as I could.
Then, without warning, he started laughing. Tim was cackling like a jackal. He didn’t seem to care that he was on my porch, laughing like an idiot in front of possible passers by. This was Irvine, after all. People called the cops about things like litter, realistic Halloween decorations, and alleged vandalized plants. If they saw some random guy in front of my house laughing like an idiot, that would be suspicious, wouldn’t it? Possibly raise some red flags?
But Tim didn’t care. Why should he, when he had all the money in the world? He was raised by his wealthier father, his mouth having died during child birth. His father never remarried and raised Tim in his shadow. Tim never learned responsibility, and also learned if he ever got himself in trouble, he found just buy his way out.
Honestly, I wish that was what happened with him and me. But he didn’t want to buy his way out with me. He wanted me for himself. He wanted to be in complete control, to make me his perfect image of what a woman and a wife should be.
I was the furthest thing from perfection I could think of, to be honest. I was short and petite, with straight hair. I had minimal curves and I liked plaid. A lot. I couldn’t walk in heels to save my life and I tripped over air. I laughed at inappropriate things like fart noises and dad jokes.
I was kind of a dork. Which worked for me.
When I met Tim, the quintessential good boy, the golden child, I could not believe he was ever interested in me. I was sure he had his pick of beautiful women who were probably throwing themselves at him for a scrap of attention. When he saw me, it was as though he couldn’t get enough of me.
Again, crazy. Not because I wasn’t worthy of love. My confidence had never been an issue before him. But I just didn’t think I was good enough for HIM. And that was my downfall.
Because I thought he was doing me a David Ng being with me, I let things slip that I should have let slip. Like him picking out my clothes like I was a child, incapable of knowing my own mind. Like him telling me what to eat, what to think, how to feel. I hadn’t realized how much control I was letting him have until he became that voice in my head.
His laugh when I first told him I wanted out haunted my dreams, even today. It was the same laugh he was doing now.
“What was that?” he asked through his laughter. “You want me to leave?”
I clenched my jaw and tried to breathe. Tried to focus on counting. His laughter kept slicing through, however, and I could feel my fists start to shake.
Jesus, I hoped Art didn’t notice.
“I think we both know that’s not going to happen, Chloe,” Tim continued. He was talking down to me, like I was done kind of a child. “You might as well accept that now so we can speed this process further along.” He paused. “You know you belong to me.” His voice had gotten lower but louder.
I wasn’t sure how that was possible but Tim always managed to do the impossible. He looked like a nice guy, sounded like a nice guy, and he was honestly the worst person alive right now. I didn’t hate anything or anyone. It wasn’t in my nature, even if they deserved it.
But I hated Tim. I hated Tim with every piece of me.
“I don’t belong to anyone,” I spat back out.
Bits of saliva went everywhere, being flung across the space between my mouth and the door. The only thing really protecting me from him. I wasn’t sure at this point if Art counted as protection or not. It wouldn’t be fair to assume he would jump into something clearly not his business when he had no reason to be here. I wouldn’t blame him if he wanted nothing to do with me after today.
Trainwrecks & Back Checks Page 3
