The Not-Outcast

by Tijan

  Boomer’s mouth turned in and his head went down.

  Reba didn’t notice. “What is going on with you?” Her head twisted sideways, as if a new thought had just come to her. “You seeing someone? This seems like guy distraction.”

  Guy distraction.

  Aptly put.

  I opened my mouth, but Boomer lifted his head up and said, “Let’s leave her alone. If she wanted us to know, she would’ve told us.” He gave Dean a pointed look. “You sure about switching distributors on some of our foods?”

  Dean was still frowning, but turned back to him. “Uh. Yeah. Yes. We need it for the budget, but speaking of our budget, I think we should plan a big charity gala event.”

  Oh no.

  Call it a sixth sense, but I knew exactly where Dean was going with this. He’d been on his own buzzing level since the Mustangs were at Come Our Way.

  He cleared his throat, sitting up straighter. “I have a meeting with the Mustangs’ PR team tomorrow, and I wanted to clear it with everyone here.”

  “We already had them here.”

  Dean glanced to Reba. “I know, and it went amazing. Our social media push brought in a lot of new volunteers and contributions locally, but I’d like to plan a big, big event—”

  “No.”

  All heads swung my way.

  I never vetoed anything. I might ask not to be around for an event, but I never outright did what I just did.

  Boomer’s gaze was speculative, so was Reba’s. Dean’s was just big and bulging. He hissed, “Let me finish before you just say no—”

  “No.” I stood, gathering all my papers.

  “Cheyenne.” Dean stood with me.

  I saw the determination on his face. His jaw was set.

  He wanted a big to-do. He wanted to invite all the hoity-toity rich, and nope. Not going to happen. Because he wouldn’t stop there. He’d ask the players, obviously, but he’d ask the players’ friends and families. That meant Cut. That meant Chad. That meant others, like Cut’s relatives, because he had a supportive family. They would fly in for that, but there would still be others.

  Deek was here.

  Natalie was here.

  They were all here.

  The entire group had been here for a full year and the only reason I knew was because of Hunter. No one reached out so I knew their priorities. So far, their world had not crossed mine. I did not want that to happen and Dean’s ambition was putting us on a collision course. So, I was going to do what I needed to do. I was going to stop it.

  I pushed my chair back, gave Dean a firm look, and stood my ground. “I said no. You have to have a unanimous vote for any big event, so it’s not going to happen.”

  “But—”

  I left. I didn’t care.

  And fuck it. I was going to go to the hockey game.

  I could only say no to so much today.

  22

  Cheyenne

  Otis, Maisie, and JJ were all giving me looks.

  It was understandable. The Mustangs were on an away phase, but there’d been a few home games sprinkled in and I’d not been here for any of them. So they were giving me the looks.

  I could feel them. I didn’t even need to see them, but I felt singed from them.

  My normal seat. My normal seat companions. Our normal section.

  Everything was normal. Except me.

  The season seat group knew something was up.

  The team came out on the ice, and it felt right again. Just right. All right.

  He didn’t look up here, not once. And he skated wonderfully, but he had been all season so far. He had more of an edge, like right now as he was skating up with Hendrix and Franklin. Hendrix was in the middle, skating forward. The defensive line was on them, reaching in, trying to dislodge the puck or make them trip up.

  Hendrix shot to Franklin.

  Franklin danced between two linemen, hitting the puck forward with his skate, his stick lifting up and over their heads. The puck went past, right to Cut, and he skated around the last defensive end. The goalie was there, he was expecting it. Cut read him, and shot the puck back to Hendrix.

  Everyone had forgotten Hendrix was there.

  Hendrix reached forward and shot it up and inside.

  Everyone was on their feet. Screaming. Shouting. Clapping.

  Adrenaline was high, but adrenaline was always high for the games, win or lose. It was part of it.

  All the guys circled around Hendrix, patting his helmet and shoulders. Cut swept in, and Hendrix wrapped his arms around Cut. The entire arena was wailing, hitting the ice barriers. Rags were being circled in the air, and it was overwhelming, but I was good. I was right with them. The stimulus was a lot, but I was on my meds and I had now added a full hour of hard cardio to my regimen in the mornings. It was the best way to keep my head as clear as could be, and I was so glad.

  My chest was full.

  I could do it this way.

  Be here. Watch as a fan. Support. Enjoy. But only from a distance. I had to do the distance thing.

  I made a point of going to the bathroom when the first period ended, and when they were heading off the ice. I made a point of heading to the concessions when they came back and stayed away until they began playing. It was a repeat for the end of the second period and the beginning of the third.

  They’d lost one of their away games, and in the beginning of the third period, the opposing team tied up the score. Everyone was on edge. They needed a win, especially a home win.

  There was another line change.

  Cut went off.

  The teams were trading the puck back and forth. No one was moving it forward or backward. It was an even exchange. No. There was a break, the opposing team. No, no, no. Then, Dorchak came out of nowhere. He was one of the rookies this season. He swung in, dislodging their breakaway. The puck was back in Mustang territory. They kicked it back. The goalie had it.

  Line change.

  It was supposed to be the third line, but Cut dropped in. He skated across the ice. The goalie shot the puck to him.

  Franklin and Hendrix were with him.

  There was only two minutes left.

  They could do a couple more line changes, but the way Cut was moving, they were staying in. I felt it, and he was pushing forward at a fast pace. Two guys moved forward, meeting him. They swung their sticks in front of him.

  He moved the puck around, keeping control.

  Past the one player, around the second. He veered between them.

  Another was coming at him, coming hard, and Cut hit the puck sideways, almost dropping backwards to miss the hit. The player kept going, clotheslining into one of his other teammates.

  The crowd was back on their feet.

  Cut skated in a tight circle, grabbing the puck back up and he reached far. The goalie went with him.

  Cut tapped the puck the other way, and he moved his foot forward, his stick tapping the puck in between his feet. It sailed just under the goalie’s leg.

  GOAL!

  The sirens lit up, and everyone was screaming.

  That’d been the theme for this game.

  They had a minute and thirty-two to hold them.

  Cut and his line stayed.

  A minute and twenty-five.

  The other team made a push, slapping the puck back and forth. Franklin moved in, but he was too late. The puck was pushed forward. He was going in hard, but then Cut was there and he was intersecting him. Thank goodness. If he had hit him illegally, he would’ve gone to the box, and it would’ve been a power play for the other team. They could’ve scored, probably would’ve, and it’d be overtime.

  One of the other players swung in, words were being shared.

  Franklin surged forward, but Cut was holding him back. He was reaching for the guy, trying to get free.

  Cut held him back until he turned himself, but he just moved the other player away. Two more players moved in, helping to separate a potential fight. Hendrix was pulling Fran
klin away, but both were watching, making sure to cover Cut’s back if they were needed.

  A ref blew the whistle and I could’ve sagged from the tension.

  They started playing, but the Mustangs held them off. They won two to one.

  I was so exhilarated from the win, from the tension that I forgot my early pee break.

  When I looked down, Cut was still on the ice, but now he was staring right at me.

  Maisie clamped onto my arm. “You’re going to The Way Station with us.”

  It was after the team filed away, and after the crowd was starting to dispense. I’d been frozen in place seeing him seeing me, because every fiber in my being wanted to go to him.

  He reached inside of me, grabbed everything inside of me, and he was pulling me to him. That’s how it felt. Even the fucking air had been surging me toward him, and I’d been sweating trying to hold back, trying to remember what I was doing again?

  What was I doing?

  Confusing, right? This was what it was like in my head sometimes. Or most times. Or—I was on a runaway train once more. No tracks. No engine conductor. Just me. The train and I were free falling all over the place.

  Then Maisie reached for me, and I was pulled out of my mind. Thank God.

  Her face was set. Otis was right behind her. JJ dropped down the aisle, so she was standing behind Otis. All three were determined.

  I sighed. “I can’t drink, but I’ll come.”

  Otis harrumphed a nod. “Good. I’ll drink for the both of us.”

  Maisie’s smile turned sweet, and she linked her elbows with mine. Bumping next to me, she whispered, “He really will. We took a cab here.”

  When we got there, I made sure to ask if we could sit in a back booth. None of my companions knew about my struggles, so I wanted to contain it the best I could. When we were led to a back booth, I made sure to sit on the edge and with my back to the wall. This way, I could decipher what noise was coming from where, and it wouldn’t give me a migraine later on.

  And Otis hadn’t been joking. He ordered two beers for himself.

  I ordered a water.

  JJ ordered a mojito.

  Maisie ordered a Long Island Iced Tea.

  Once the waitress left, all three turned to me.

  “Now.” Maisie put her palms on the table, her shoulders forward and her head lowered a little. She was taking on a whole earnest tone, but it was gentle. “Sweetie.”

  Oh, ho! We were going with the ‘sweetie’ talk. I was done for. I might as well roll over and bare my belly. I’d overheard Maisie use this voice at other times and start her talks with her kids over the phone when she wanted something. They always gave in, no matter how long they protested.

  From the knowing looks on the faces of both Otis and JJ, they’d all talked about this.

  “You’re the spokesperson?” I asked her.

  That didn’t faze her. “Cheyenne, sweetheart. I know sometimes you think we don’t notice things about you, but we do. We’ve been seat companions for a long time—”

  “A long time.” Otis’s head bobbed up and down.

  “—and we care about you—”

  JJ interrupted, “Cut the shit. Did you sleep with Cut Ryder?”

  And apparently Maisie was taking too long for JJ.

  “Sweetie. Cheyenne, dear.”

  Why was I even fighting this?

  I told them. I didn’t tell them everything, but they got the first night, my roll and run tactic, and the whole Not-Brother situation. I’d been vague about everything else.

  Otis was squinting at me, he was two beers in by now, and had two more coming. “So, you ended things?”

  Yeah. I hadn’t told them the reason. I was going with the whole brother aspect being the issue.

  I nodded. “Yeah.”

  Maisie stared at me.

  JJ was frowning at me.

  Maisie’s the one who burst out, “That’s total and complete bullshit! Who does your Nut-Brother think he is? He can’t demand shit. If he were my son, I’d have a good talk with him. I’d sit him down and educate him on how we’re lucky to have anyone considered family in our lives. Anyone. And you. Oh, my poor dear. I had no idea about your mother.”

  I blinked at her a few times. Shit. I’d forgotten that I went that deep with my family tree.

  Also, no way in hell was I correcting her ‘nut-brother.’ I loved it. I was going to share with everyone.

  I reached for my water. My throat was parched. “I mean, it all worked out okay.”

  “No, it did not.”

  That was JJ, and she slammed her fist on the table. The force had her drink sloshing over the rim, as well as Maisie’s, who picked up her drink. If I were foretelling the future, I’d guess Otis and Maisie would be making some happy love tonight, either that or the snoring would wake the neighbors. Either way, fun.

  “I had no idea. None.”

  I was waiting, but that was it. JJ stopped talking, her head tilted down.

  Maisie was watching her, too, grabbing her straw and taking a long drag from her drink.

  Otis was staring hard at me. “You know what you should do? You should write a letter to your brother, tell him how he’s got no right to make an issue. And it’s Cut Ryder! Cut The Reaper Ryder. He is a Mustang personification.” He sat back, crossing his arms over his chest, and he was shaking his head.

  I had a feeling Otis was just settling in.

  “I just love the guy. He rose up out of nowhere. No one was watching for him, and bam, he’s on the new start-up team, and bam, he’s damn near doing figure eights like an ice skater. He’s just a joy to watch, a total joy. Yeah.” He burped. The waitress dropped off two more beers, and he reached for one, but settled back again. “A total joy. I’d love to shake his hand one day. But you know what I’d tell him? I’d tell him he shouldn’t let you get away. You, my dear, are a one in a million. One in a million, and so’s my daughter.” He remembered Maisie was sitting next to him. “Both of our daughters. Rosie and Callie are one in a million, too. Maybe we could set them up with Cut Ryder?”

  Maisie patted his arm. “Callie’s engaged, honey.”

  “That’s right. I don’t like that guy.”

  “That’s why we don’t bring our kids with us to the games. You start speaking truthfully. It never ends well.”

  The two were having their own conversation.

  Otis grinned at her, the lines around his mouth soft and his eyes a little glazed. “I do, don’t I?”

  “You do. That’s why I love you. One of the many.”

  He leaned closer to his wife and whispered loudly, “You’re one in a million, too, sweetie.”

  She patted his arm again, beaming back. “I know. You are, too.”

  He burped again. “I am, aren’t I?” He finished his beer in one gulp. Putting it back on the table, he blinked a few times. “I gotta piss. Excuse me, ladies.”

  Maisie giggled, her face almost beet red from the drinks by now. She slid out and gave her husband a pat on the ass as he bypassed her. He threw her a grin backwards, his hand grazing against hers as he went. They shared another look before Maisie sighed and slid back in the booth. “I’m so lucky that I got to marry that man.”

  JJ and I shared a look.

  It was sweet, but I knew that wasn’t something I would ever have.

  JJ’s look was a little wry as she picked up her second mojito. “That’s not for me. I had a husband. It didn’t work out. I love my corporate world, thank you very much.”

  “And you do that. You do what makes you happy.”

  As if they were one person, both looked at me.

  Maisie’s the one who spoke. “Cheyenne, sweetie. Does Cut make you happy?”

  My tongue was heavy.

  My stomach was all twisting on the insides.

  I had made my decision. Sitting here with them, seeing the love between Maisie and Otis, seeing that JJ was happy being single—I wanted to do what would make me happy, but they didn
’t know. They couldn’t understand. Sometimes staying away was simply for them, not yourself.

  But it was too hard to explain that, especially in a bar when JJ and Maisie were both two drinks in.

  I just grinned, reaching for my water. “Yes, he does.”

  Maisie’s eyes got big. “Then go and be with him. Text him. Right now.”

  I felt JJ shifting. And I reached down, grabbing my phone just as she was going for it.

  It came alive in that instant.

  Cut calling.

  I swore, at the same time JJ shouted, “The universe just spoke!” She snatched the phone from me, hitting accept, and had the phone to her ear in a split second. “Hi! This is Cheyenne’s friend.” Annnnd she was off and babbling to him. “We sit with her at every game, and we’re at The Way Station right now. Come and get your girl. Right now.” Then she hung up and put my phone in her pocket. “Sorry, dear, but I can read you better than you think. I know it’s an invasion of privacy, but I care about you. We’ve been watching hockey games with you for a long time, and you tried to feed us both some bullshit. The guy called you at the perfect time. If you believe in the Almighty, maybe believe there was a reason for that timing. I’ll give you your phone back when he shows up. Can’t have you calling him to back out or have you running away again now, can we?”

  Otis chose that moment to come back. He stood at the end of the table, a rosy glow on his cheeks, and he held his hands up. “What’d I miss?”

  23

  Cut

  We were asked to do random ‘pop ins’ at The Way Station throughout the season. Management had a deal worked out. We got free catering at events. In exchange, we showed up at the bar every now and then. Never long, but enough to be seen. Enough to have our pictures taken.

  Because of that rumor, it was always the place for the hockey fans to go after the home games. And because of that, I was surprised Cheyenne would be here, but I donned a baseball cap and headed inside. After the game we had, I knew there was no hope of getting in there (even through the back) and not get recognized so I wasn’t surprised when the first guy did a double-take after I stepped through the door.