Trainwrecks & Back Checks

by Heather C. Myers

  Not that I had anything to do with this...

  I rolled my eyes. I had no idea what I was doing anymore. I just knew I wanted to be around her always. I wanted her to be safe if I had to leave. I wish I could take her with me wherever I went.

  When we got into my car - because I asked if she wanted to go together and she actually agreed - I opened the door for her and helped her inside.

  The drive was quiet. Things were new. Whatever this was, it was delicate even in all its pretending glory. But the silence wasn’t awkward, surprisingly enough. It was maybe tense but not awkward. Like this was something we could get through. Like it wouldn’t always be like this.

  But I still needed to break it. I still needed to talk.

  “I’m going away.”

  I was good at ruining things. I watched as she closed her eyes and let out a sigh through her nose. I wasn’t adept at her moods yet but I was learning. However, even I couldn’t figure out if that was a good sign or not. Probably not, if I had to guess.

  “I know,” she murmured, looking out her window. “I know you are.”

  “I.” I cleared my throat. I wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that, but it was my own fucking fault for bringing it up in the first place. “I don’t feel comfortable leaving you by yourself, if I’m being honest.”

  I watched as she shifted in her seat, her eyes still fixed outside the window.

  “Don’t worry about me,” she said finally.

  “I do.” The words came out quick and insistent. I hadn’t meant to sound forceful but she needed to realize she couldn’t just look at herself like she wasn’t worth worrying over. Because she was. “If I could take you with me, I would.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t go,” she said.

  I gave her a sharp look. Now she was just being antagonistic.

  “Why not?” I asked her.

  I didn’t mean to sound offended. I understood that she had to do what she had to do in order to feel safe. But if she knew anything about me, she would know that this never happened. Taking a woman on a road trip with me while I played hockey was not something I did or even wanted to do. It wasn’t because I wanted the freedom to hang out with the guys and go explore the new city at night after a game or a practice. I didn’t need someone’s permission to decide whether or not I wanted to go to a bar or a club or whether I wanted to relax in the hotel room.

  I liked the freedom of not having anyone to entertain. I didn’t have to concern myself with anyone except myself - and quite possibly Dean, who took it upon himself to be with multiple women every night we were away, sometimes at the same time. The bastard was as old as I was, but he was a charmer and girls as young as eighteen, nineteen, would flock to him and drop to their knees just to please him.

  To be honest, I thought that was all for show. He had to have been hurt by someone to push everyone away, to hide behind a cloud of lust and legs and lipstick marks.

  “Because you don’t need the distraction,” Chloe said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s the last thing you need. Especially when you’re so close at achieving every hockey player’s dream.”

  I looked at her with a furrowed brow. The urge to kiss her was surprisingly overwhelming and I had to curl my fingers into fists and dig my nails into my palms to keep me from going over and doing just that. As much as I wanted to, I also wanted to finish the conversation.

  It touched me that she would put my own needs above hers. Maybe I had just surrounded myself with shitty women. Maybe I didn’t realize what it meant to be with someone who actually cared about my wellbeing and who wanted me to do what I needed to do in order to achieve what I needed to achieve. I was with women who put themselves and their needs first. Chloe wasn’t that type and I didn’t think she ever was. But it was nice to be reassured that she was exactly who I thought she was.

  “You are important to me,” I told her.

  It was a major statement, coming from me, and judging by the surprised look on her face, I could tell she knew that as well.

  “And you’re important to me,” she replied as we made our way inside her place. “I am a grown adult. I’ve been taking care of myself this long. I can do it without you. Even though I want you here and I appreciate that you are here, we can’t live our lives based on him. It’s my biggest regret, that I did that, and I promised myself I would never go it again. Even so, I catch myself doing it, acting based on him, and I hate myself for it. I’m not going to let you do the same thing.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that. I wasn’t going to argue with her. Instead, I took a step forward and wrapped my arms around her, pulling her close. It was hard for me to let her go so I let myself linger. It was hard to remember that this whole thing between us was supposed to be pretend.

  13

  Chloe

  It made me feel special knowing that Art was worried about me. To be honest, I was worried about him leaving too, but there was no way I was going to show it. I refused to let him worry about me when he had an important two games he needed to focus on. This was history-making, the fact that his team was this far in the playoffs, and I wanted to be the supportive girlfriend.

  The supportive fake girlfriend.

  I didn’t need his play affected because he thought I couldn’t handle being on my own. That he thought I needed help.

  I knew he didn’t look at me like I was helpless, like I was some girl who needed protecting. At the same time, I thought he wanted to protect me. He wanted to take the time and make sure I was taken care of because, because...

  Well, I couldn’t speak for his feelings. And I was starting to learn about him, to know he wasn’t a typically caring person. So why he wanted to insert himself in my life and make sure I was safe wasn’t something I really could answer.

  I managed a night by myself without anything major except spilling hot chocolate on my favorite pair of pajamas while I was laughing at this cute scene between Frank and Karen from the Netflix original series, The Punisher. It was difficult for me to fall asleep that night, not because I missed Art - even though I did - but because I was worried about Tim. With Art gone, I felt vulnerable. Like he could protect me from Tim. And I thought I would still feel that way whether Art was in my life or not.

  Somehow, I managed to get through the night with a few hours of sleep. The next morning, I showered and got ready for work. I wanted to stay holed up in my home as long as possible because I felt safe here but I refused to let Tim control how I lived my life. Maybe it was careless on my part but I figured the city building was right next to the police department and Tim couldn’t possibly be stupid enough to try and do something to me at work. It was getting to work and getting home that he could do something. That was when I was the biggest target. Home was safe. Work was safe. Between those two points, anything could happen.

  I threw on clothes and slid into my car. I backed out of my garage and made sure the doors to my car were locked. I even looked in the back and under the car and the trunk because I was paranoid, but at least it reassured me.

  Somewhat.

  The drive to work was calm even though my heart continued its irregular palpitations, and every time I hit a red light, a glanced around to see who was there, if I recognized anyone, if I noticed the same car or the same guy following me.

  I hated this. I hated this life.

  I also didn’t like the fact that I only felt safe when Art was here, like I needed him to make my life better when I wanted to be okay if it was just me.

  But if I wanted that to change, I would have to figure out what I needed to do in order to make Tim go away for good.

  You could file a police report, a voice pointed out. The city building is right next to the police department. When Tim came to your door the other day, he violated your restraining order. And you have a witness. Art was there to watch you do it.

  I breathed out a sigh through my nose. While the voice was true, I wasn’t sure I was ready to listen to i
t just yet. I didn’t want to drag Art any further into this drama than I already had. Involving the police would just distract him even more than he already was.

  Fuck that, the voice snapped. You can care about Art all you want but that does not make him more important than you, Chloe. And he would be the first person to tell you that and you know it. Now, park your goddamn car, call Helen and tell her you’re going to be late because you have business at the PD side, and file your report. You have the case number from back east and you have the court case number and a copy of the restraining order in the dash of your car because you’ve prepared for this. You can do this.

  I took a deep breath. The voice was right. As much as I didn’t want to involve Art, he was already involved because he wanted to be involved. I needed to do what was best for me and I hoped - I knew - Art would understand.

  -

  I was out of the police station an hour later. It was a lot quicker than I thought it would be. The officer was a young guy with a friendly smile who handed me a business card with all of his contact information on it, including the case number. In a week or so, I could call the records department and get instruction on how to obtain a copy of the report once he had written it and it was in the system.

  Work went by surprisingly quick. I had a lot of stuff I needed to do, which helped pass the time and keep my mind off of Tim.

  I was reassured about the fact that I had a filed a police report. I knew a piece of paper wasn’t going to help me in the long run, and it definitely couldn’t protect me against him, but it was documentation that he was an asshole, that he was dangerous - at least, to me.

  By the time five o’clock rolled around, I had completely forgotten about the fact that I was worried about Tim. Until I walked out of the city building and there was someone waiting for me, someone who, for no apparent reason, began to attack me.

  I didn’t recognize his face but I knew Tim was behind it. It reeked of Tim. The man ripped my bag away from me, stomped on my cellphone, and began to hit me for no reason. At first, I was so surprised, I couldn’t think of anything except for the fact that we were in front of the city building. The police station was right next door. The front desk to that police station was still open. Officers walked in and out of the front doors on a frequent basis. Whoever this was expected to be arrested. And he would probably be sent to jail because I was going to press charges, there were witnesses, and he was leaving bruises on my body.

  After the fifth time he hit me, I fell to the floor. I managed to get in a few hits myself, surprising both my attacker and myself. However, even I knew I wasn’t strong enough to completely hold him off. I heard women screaming and I thought I saw some run into the police station. I could taste blood in my mouth and stars started to prick the outside of my vision.

  “Hey!” a voice shouted. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

  I should be grateful. I should be thanking God someone was going to help me - not just by running to get help but by actually coming over to intervene. But there was something about that voice. Something i didn’t trust. I didn’t know why. I had been hit too many times. I didn’t know why I wanted to run from the voice rather than towards it.

  I could hear rather than see a tussle and then I heard footsteps dash off on the pavement.

  “You okay, Chloe?” the voice asked. “That guy came out of nowhere. Even Irvine can’t seem to keep you safe. But don’t worry. You’re safe with me.”

  Tim.

  That was Tim.

  I shook my head. I was ready to say no but blood came out. I wasn’t badly beaten, per se, but I would definitely be bruised up. It was hard for me to move. I needed time to get everything together.

  “Let me take you to the hospital,” he continued.

  At that moment, two officers rushed outside. I opened my mouth, ready to talk, but Tim squeezed my arm.

  I knew that squeeze. I had listened to that squeeze. I had obeyed that squeeze because I had been trained to fear the repercussions of not obeying that squeeze.

  But that was then.

  “Officer,” I managed to get out. “Officer, please. Please help me.”

  Tim squeezed harder. “I can take her to the hospital, officers,” he said loudly.

  I coughed up more blood. It was hard for me to speak. The officers were more preoccupied with containing the threat than with making sure I was all right. I couldn’t fault them for that, I guess. Not when they had their own job to do.

  “Come on,” Tim said, leading me away. “Kaiser is just down the street. I’ll drive you there myself.”

  “I don’t want you to drive me,” I managed to get out.

  This seemed to shock Tim. Like, he literally stopped what he was doing and gave me a look that made the blood drain from my face. I knew what that look meant. I was going to be punished for my insubordination. He was going to do things to me to get me back into line, to get me to fall back into the place of what he assumed the perfect girlfriend should be.

  For a minute, I forgot that I had escaped from him. I forgot that I was my own person. I forgot that he didn’t have any power over me anymore. I watched him with wide eyes, unsure what his move would be. I even swallowed, hoping it was subtle enough that he wouldn’t notice my fear, wouldn’t see it pouring out of my eyes.

  And then I remembered that I didn’t belong to him anymore. I remembered that I was free and that he couldn’t do anything to me. He couldn’t force me to go with him, especially not with two officers apprehending my attacker and a bunch more in the police department which just happened to be a few feet away. I could do whatever I wanted. Granted, I probably would go to the hospital and have them check me out but Tim was not going to be my escort. In fact, I would have one of the officers do it, just to keep Tim at bay. Just so he knew that he was the one who needed to stay in line.

  “Actually, I think I’ll have an officer take me to the hospital,” I said. “Especially, since, you know, I’m pretty sure you set this whole thing up.”

  Tim clenched his teeth together so hard it popped. His eyes slowly shifted over to the officers but they were both busy with my attacker and hadn’t heard me.

  Yet.

  When Tim looked back at me, his eyes seemed to warn me from doing anything else, from saying something that would incriminate him. I used to be afraid of his eyes, if I was being honest. They used to haunt me in my dreams. It made me hate the color blue in all shapes and forms. But now, now it didn’t matter because I was the one in control. I was the one who instilled fear into him, not the other way around.

  “Officers,” I said louder, keeping my eyes on Tim’s. I wanted him to know that I wasn’t messing around. I wanted him to be aware that I wasn’t afraid of him, not anymore. And if he was smart, he would be the one afraid of me. “I think I know who’s responsible for what happened to me.”

  “What was that, miss?” one of the officers asked.

  I opened my mouth and turned to look down at the officer. “The man who helped me,” I told him. “I believe he was responsible for setting the whole thing up.”

  When I turned back to look at Tim, to show him that I wasn’t afraid of him anymore, he was gone.

  I clenched my teeth. I almost had him.

  But that was okay. I would get him. I would be free of him soon enough.

  14

  Art

  We lost Game three. I was pissed. It was like everyone was jet-lagged, even though Seattle was maybe a two-hour flight from Newport Beach. I could not believe it.

  Everybody played shitty. I played shitty. Underwood played shitty. Ryan played shitty. The only guy who maybe played decent was Negan but Negan always played hard. It was part of his work ethic. Some of these guys gave up too soon. When the first goal slipped through Thorpe’s five-hole - a complete fluke and something that rarely happened - we thought we could bounce back.

  But it was one of those games where we missed the majority of our shots by a hair. Where the calls
could have gone either way and they seemed to go against us. Where we hit the fucking crossbar four goddamn times - twice in one period. Where we actually tied the game with forty-two seconds left in the third period but it was waived off because Seattle decided to challenge it, claiming Underwood was offsides, and apparently, the situation room in Toronto felt the same way.

  By the time I got back to the hotel room, I was exhausted. All I wanted was to hear Chloe’s voice, to distract me from my frustration and self-pity, for her to let me know she was okay.

  Except, when I called, it went straight to voicemail. And I noticed she never shot me a text after she got home from work which was something we talked about. Chloe was clumsy, sure, but she wasn’t forgetful. If she told me she was going to contact me, I believed her. The only thing that might stop her was if something happened to her.

  I felt my heart pump against my chest harder. Faster. I tried to calm myself down. I counted backwards.

  “What the fuck is your problem?” Dean asked me, lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, his arms behind his head.

  I shot him a look that warned him not to fuck with me right now. To be honest, I was surprised he was even here rather than some bar, trying to pick up some girl and take her back to her place. It could have to do with the fact that we played horribly and it was difficult to get excited over everyone’s shit play, especially since if Seattle won the next two games, we were out. And we had come so far, no one wanted to be fucking out just yet.

  “You’re pacing like a fucking lunatic.” He glanced up at me and I could see a flash of concern in his crisp, blue eyes. “Everything okay?”

  It was odd to hear those words come out of Morgan’s mouth because Morgan was not a sentimental guy. There were rumors when he was younger, he had this whirlwind relationship with a girl who was ten years younger than he was and he had to leave her because he signed with Florida. The relationship was still new so it wasn’t as though he felt comfortable asking her to move to Florida with him but he hadn’t been the same since then - at least not when it came to women. I didn’t think he had any sort of stable relationship, which he didn’t seem to have any problem with. And now that he was back here, I wasn’t sure if he had attempted to look her up or if he thought it was better to stay away. Who knew if he still had any fucking feelings left for her or if she was the love of his life who managed to get away. Only Morgan could know that.