HOOKED: Boston Terries Hockey #4

by Chance, Jacob

  “My dad?” Jeremy answers, but it’s more like a question.

  “Dude, it was a rhetorical question.” Donovan shakes his head.

  “Hey, hey. I heard this is where all the fun is happening today.” Clancy Wilde, arguably our most famous alumni, struts over.

  “Clancy. How the hell are you?” I ask. We shake hands and pull each other in for a quick, back-slapping hug. “I can’t believe you came. This is awesome. You’re going to help us bring in record amounts of cash.”

  “I’m glad I can help.”

  Donovan steps in for a quick handshake. “Great to see you, man. How are Tenley and Molly?”

  “They’re great, thanks. Molly wanted to come help, but I didn’t want her to be in the way.” His daughter is just a toddler.

  “She could’ve been the wheel washer,” I point out. “She’s just that height. Think of all the back pain she’d save us from.”

  “I don’t know if her washing skills are up to standard. She’s better at making messes than cleaning them.” Clancy grins with fatherly pride.

  “Kind of sounds like Donovan,” I joke.

  Donovan shrugs. “It’s funny because it’s true.”

  “Wait a minute,” Jeremy calls out. “Do you play for the Bruins?”

  Clancy smiles. “I do, but some of my best days were spent playing for the Terriers. I’m Clancy.” He holds out his hand and Jeremy clasps it.

  “I’m Jeremy. I’m new to the team.” He looks at Clancy like he just floated down from the heavens.

  “You look too old to be a freshman, so where did you transfer from?” Clancy asks.

  “Nebraska.”

  “No kidding? I’ve never been there, but from what I’ve heard, it’s beautiful.” Clancy peels his t-shirt off, tossing it on the pile of cast aside clothing.

  “It sure is. It’s God’s country for sure,” Jeremy replies, still awestruck.

  “All right, fellas, it’s time to get down to business,” I shout. “Take your assigned positions and let’s get this show on the road.” I slip my phone from my pocket and make sure to mention on the Terriers’ social media pages and my own that Clancy Wilde is here helping out. That ought to be a nice boost for business.

  The first two hours are a non-stop stream of vehicles lining up. We do our best to keep things moving like an assembly line. I have to get after Donovan a few times for slowing things down by flirting with carloads of pretty girls. He smiles unabashedly and resumes his duties.

  Shaw shows up for the third hour, racing over breathless. “I’m sorry. I had to wait until Maddie was free to watch Buddy.”

  “You should’ve brought him. He is the house mascot after all,” I mention.

  “Yeah, but with so many cars, I’d be afraid he’d get run over. That’s my boy. I can’t have anything happening to him.”

  “I didn’t think about the traffic in and out of this parking lot. Clearly, I lack fathering skills.” I laugh.

  “Don’t count on that. In my experience, you develop them when you need them and not a moment sooner. It’s like they’re on standby, just waiting for the appropriate time,” Clancy says. “There’s no way you can ever be completely prepared.”

  The next vehicle pulls up, ending our break. I grab a sponge from the bucket and prepare to get busy. I’m ecstatic when I see Clover in the driver’s seat. Maddie and Buddy happen to be in the passenger seat and he gives a bark when he sees me.

  I lean in the open window and smile at Clover. “Hey, what’s up?”

  She smiles tentatively. “Not much. Figured we’d do our part to help the frat. Even though it’s a haven for manwhore party boys.”

  “I wouldn’t know anything about that,” I deadpan.

  Maddie snorts and then asks, “Where’s my man?”

  “He’s around here somewhere. He said you made him late,” I reveal, stirring up my sister’s ire.

  “That ass. I got there as soon as I could.”

  I barely restrain my grin and Clover notices. “Maddie, he’s screwing with you. Don’t go for the bait.”

  “You’re a jerk,” Maddie growls at me.

  “I love you, sis. So, what else do you ladies have on tap for today?” I question.

  “Nothing really. Studying, laundry, relaxing, the usual,” Clover replies.

  “I need to get back to work. Close up your windows and we’ll have you out of here before you know it,” I instruct, and she wordlessly shuts the glass between us. My gaze lingers on her for a beat too long, and water hits the car next to me. I narrowly miss getting soaked.

  Donovan chuckles behind me. “My bad.” I know he did it on purpose. He’s reminding me I can’t hold up the line just because it’s Clover.

  Turning around, I whip the wet sponge in my hand at his face. It lands on his chest and slides down to the ground. He turns the hose on me, wetting me from head to toe, but it’s a hot September day and the cold spray is a welcome relief. I slick my hair back from my face with a grin and get back to work scrubbing Clover’s VW.

  When we’re finished, she drives off and my chest tightens with a pang of disappointment. I don’t know why. It’s not like I expected her to stay. Maybe it’s that I hardly get to see her and I was spoiled when we were in the White Mountains. If she ever gives me another chance—no, when she gives me another chance, I’m taking her back there to remind her how much fun we had.

  The car wash lasts two more hours, and when we’re finished cleaning up, my fingertips are wrinkled up like prunes.

  After tallying up all the money, we made one thousand dollars in sales and another two hundred in donations. But I like to think of them as tips paid for their viewing pleasure. I’m pretty sure twelve hundred dollars is the most we’ve made from this event. I’m sure having Clancy here was a big part of the success. Not too shabby for an afternoon of work out in the sun with friends. And I got to see Clover. All in all, it was a great time.

  * * *

  Jumping on my email, I check to see if Clover’s package has been delivered yet. I found a company who makes gift boxes filled with different things depending on the theme. The one I ordered is the You are My Sunshine Box. It comes with a lemon scented candle with fancy matches, lemon drop candies, bubble bath, a yellow pen with a journal, and peanut M&M’s, which she also loves. Which now that I’m pondering over it, might be her biggest flaw.

  Who doesn’t think the giant peanut inside ruins the experience of eating all that chocolatey goodness? I get that the bag is yellow, but it feels a little like that game one of these things is not like the other.

  There’s also a succulent included, and I had no idea what that was. It sounded tasty, but through a little research, I learned it’s a small plant and not even edible—or smokable for that matter.

  Sounds pointless to me, but I think Clover will like the gift on the whole.

  I was able to choose what to write on the card, so I put the ole hat rack to use and came up with some words that are both charming and honest.

  According to the email I received, she already got the delivery. My mouth twists into a closed-lip smile as I type Maddie a text.

  Me: Did Clover receive her package?

  She replies immediately.

  Maddie: Yep.

  That’s it? Way to help me out, sis.

  Me: And? Give me details, woman.

  Maddie: Say please.

  Why do the women in my family have to be such ball busters?

  Me: Please give me more information.

  I give my phone the finger as if Maddie can see me.

  Maddie: She seemed to love it. She smiled as she looked everything over and then she took the bubble bath and her vibrator into the bathroom. I think I heard her yell your name a few minutes later.

  Holy shit.

  Me: Damn. I’m speechless.

  Maddie: Don’t get too excited. I made up the entire bathroom part. Lol.

  What? I need a new sister.

  Me: That was a low blow, sis. I never
realized how evil you truly are.

  Maddie: *cackles*

  Me: Are you guys coming to the exhibition game tonight?

  Maddie: Yes.

  Awesome. That means I’ll see Clover. Last night at the hockey game wasn’t my best effort. I got angry when she mentioned her ex, instead of remaining calm. But once I was home and alone in my room, I gave a lot of thought to what she said to me. I did want credit for the surprise, instead of just being happy doing something nice for her. Guys are competitive by nature and I have no problem admitting I’m worse than most in that way. Hell, I compete with myself more than anyone else. Potentially, everything can be a competition if you want it to be. Curbing that natural instinct will take some work, but I’m willing to put the effort in for Clover.

  Speaking of… I type out a text for her.

  Me: Maddie said you’re coming to the game tonight. I’d be honored if you’d wear my sweatshirt in support of me and my teammates. If not, no worries. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable in any way.

  I read the text five times, trying to check for anything insensitive, and it seems fine to me. Jesus, being a better person is a lot of fucking work. It’s definitely an exercise in patience and it’s time consuming. Considering my word choices more carefully will hopefully become a habit. With any luck, it’ll be like any other exercise and my brain’s muscle memory will kick in.

  Sending the text, I hope for the best, but Clover may not reply. Like a tornado’s path, she’s unpredictable. I can’t be sure of what her reaction will be, and an unpredictable woman is a hard sell for me.

  If this were anyone else besides Clover, I wouldn’t be pursuing them. Sure, unpredictability as a quality can be fun at times and also be considered similar to spontaneity. Unfortunately, I tend to equate that word with my mom’s behavior. What she did was anything but predictable.

  It’s been a daily battle for me since Clover and I got together to remind myself that in all the important ways, she’s nothing like my mom.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Clover

  Carrying the box of items Marshall gifted me, I place them down on my bed. Rifling through the contents once more, I remove the cover on the candle, inhaling the crisp lemon scent before placing it on my nightstand. Picking up the small white pot with the succulent, I set it down next to the candle. I love that it’s a live plant that I’ll be able to keep, provided I don’t kill it somehow.

  Lowering to the edge of the mattress, I read the words printed on the card for the fifth time.

  Clover, I chose this box because it’s called You are My Sunshine and it reminded me of you. The sun never shone brighter than when you were in my arms. Every day since has been gray. I hope I get the opportunity someday to once more feel the warmth of your love. Always yours, whether you want me or not—Marshall.

  Closing my eyes, I press the card to my chest. The impact of his message hasn’t lessened in the five times I’ve reread it. He surprised me with this gift in more ways than one. He took the time to look for something special just for me, and the words he wrote are my favorite part. Knowing he put in the effort to come up with something heartfelt and meaningful makes me feel like he genuinely cares for me. I’m not ready to forgive him for pushing me away yet, but I’m hopeful I may reach a point where I want to.

  He texted me earlier and I never replied, but I am planning on wearing his sweatshirt to the game per his request. Slipping it on over my t-shirt, I draw the hem down until it’s resting mid-thigh over my jeans. I slip my Chucks on and secure my hair in a ponytail before brushing my teeth. I’m ready to go.

  Instead of taking my car and having to deal with traffic, we jump on the T and get off at the Pleasant Street stop, placing us right near Agganis Arena. For an exhibition game, there’s a good turnout.

  After we purchase our tickets, we hurry to find seats. We end up close to where we sat last night, except this time, Marshall is on the ice with his friends and teammates.

  Even though it’s an exhibition game and doesn’t really count, I have butterflies in my stomach. It’s a combination of nerves and excitement. I haven’t been to a Terriers game since I first started college. Marshall is attractive enough on a daily basis, but when he’s on the ice, he’s undeniably hot. There’s something about watching him race confidently around the frozen surface, handling a puck, that revs me up, and since I didn’t want to think about him any more than I already was, I avoided his games. Until tonight.

  The first couple of periods are slow going. Neither team scores, and if it wasn’t for me ogling Marshall, I’d be bored out of my mind. I don’t really understand the game, aside from the object being to get the puck in the other team's net. I know Shaw is the goalie, but I haven’t a clue what position Marshall plays, I just know he looks damn sexy doing it.

  By the middle of the third period, the cold is seeping into my bones and I’m ready to go home, but I know Maddie won’t leave. She plans to hang out with the guys at C’s Pub after the game, and I don't want to be that friend who backs out.

  “Go, go,” Maddie yells, grabbing my attention. I return my focus to the game and see Marshall take a shot and the goalie deflects it with his stick. And since Marshall is tenacious on the ice, he gets a hold of the puck again. This time, he hooks it into the net before their opponent's goalie realizes. Maddie and I jump to our feet, cheering at the top of our lungs as if it’s a winning goal in a playoff game. It may only be an exhibition game, but Marshall’s goal ends up being the only one scored and the Terriers get the victory.

  * * *

  I end up at C’s with Maddie and the hockey team. It’s loud and dark inside the bar, and I’m not sure how much longer I’ll last.

  Have you ever felt like you wanted to stay, but you also wanted to leave and you just feel like you’re in a funk? This is the stage I’m currently at, and the only thing that seems to help is having another drink. But I’ve had two and Marshall and Donovan just arrived a few minutes ago. If I drink anymore, my defenses will be down and he might sneak right back into my heart. As it is, I’ve had more to drink than I usually do.

  My gaze swings over to watch Marshall being slapped on the back by his teammates. Screw it. I need another drink and I’m having one.

  Raising my arm, I signal for refills for Maddie and me, knowing damn well I’ll regret this in the morning. Hell, I’ll probably regret this tonight. The bartender slides them our way with a smile and a large arm wraps around my shoulders.

  “Hey, Lucky.” Marshall presses a kiss to my temple. “How’s it going?”

  “Great,” I say, holding my drink up. He removes the glass from my hand, setting it down on the bar.

  “You’re drinking?” he asks.

  “Yep. Now give my drink back.” I slap the wooden bar with my palm.

  “Let’s talk a little first.” He edges onto the empty stool next to mine. “How’s everything? We haven’t spoken in a week, really, aside from seeing you at Dunks and the game last night.”

  I snort. “Isn’t that speaking?”

  “Yes, it is, but it was all surface stuff. I don’t want to know how your classes are going. How are you feeling? Are you getting enough sleep? Are you eating enough?”

  “You sound like my dad.”

  “No, I sound like a man who’s crazy about you.”

  I press my lips together and study his face. “Are you really, though?”

  He looks into my eyes and nods. “Of course. I wouldn’t claim to be if I wasn’t.”

  “You wouldn’t be the first guy to say whatever he needs to in order to get lucky. And I mean sex, not my nickname.”

  He smiles. “Yeah, I understood what you meant. And I’ve never been dishonest with you about anything, my feelings included.” He pushes my drink back toward me. “Here. Enjoy yourself. I’ve got you covered. I’ll stay by your side and make sure you get home okay.”

  “What about your friends?”

  He shrugs. “What about them? They’re big bo
ys, and I’d rather stay right here with you.”

  “Thank you.” I lean my head on his shoulder. “Staying mad at you takes a lot of effort and it’s exhausting. I’m not sure I can keep it up much longer.” I sigh. “Forget I said that. You’re not supposed to know.”

  He leans his head on top of mine. “Know what?”

  * * *

  I wake up in the t-shirt and panties I wore last night. There are two ibuprofen and a glass of water on my nightstand. My head is a little sore, but nothing too horrible. Swallowing down the pills, I slip from under the covers and stand. Moving sluggishly, I enter the bathroom and follow my usual morning routine. When I’m done, my teeth are brushed, my face is washed, and my hair has been brushed. Changing my clothes is the final step, and I throw on some yoga pants and one of my favorite t-shirts.

  I find Marshall in the kitchen with a tray of coffees and a box of donuts. I notice he’s wearing last night’s clothes. “Did you stay the night?” I blurt out without saying hello first.

  “Hello to you too.” He smiles good naturedly. “I spent the night on the couch. Maddie stayed with Shaw at the house, and I wanted to make sure you were okay.” He hands me a coffee.

  “Thank you. That was really sweet of you.”

  “I thought maybe you wouldn’t want to be alone,” he says.

  “Oh, you mean because of Kent?”

  He nods. “Yeah. Are you having any lingering anxiety from that night?”

  “No. I’ve been fine. He doesn’t know where I live.”

  “Good. My offer to kick his ass still stands. Just say the word and I’m there.”

  I smile. “We don’t know where he lives.”

  “Oh, you underestimate me. I had his address the day after you had dinner with him.”

  “How?” I ask. “We were in New Hampshire.”

  “Yep, but I know a police officer pretty well. I can’t tell you who, but I’m sure you can figure it out.”