by Toni Aleo
His lips curve more, his eyes bright. “I love you too, Posey. I miss you ter—”
I shake my head, cutting off his words. “No. I’m in love with you.”
He narrows his eyes in confusion. “What?”
“I’m in love with you. Have been for a while.” I take a deep breath as I gaze up at him. He is just staring at me, this puzzled look on his face. “I came here to be with you. I want to be a part of your life. I want to see if this can work. I feel that we—”
“Posey,” he says, cutting me off, and I press my lips together. “I am flattered, but I don’t feel that way about you.”
Oh, look. There’s my heart, shattered on the ground. “What? But—”
“Surely you didn’t think I did? I never acted as such.”
“We slept in the same bed.”
“Because we are friends. A sleepover, yes?”
Oh, the smart Posey who is watching this is urging me to turn away. But the dumb Posey says, “You said I was pretty.”
“You are,” he says, squeezing my hand. “But I’m not attracted to you.”
I pull it from his grip, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Please don’t take offense. I care for you greatly.”
I shake my head, and all at once, my feelings are crushing me. “But you don’t love me.”
“No, I don’t,” he says softly, and I feel as if he is staring a hole in my face. “You are a good girl, a great friend, but I don’t like you like that.”
“You like Stella?”
He nods. “Very much so. She is more my type.”
“Because I’m not.”
He holds up his hands. “No, I don’t mean it that way. You are a very pretty girl, Posey, but not my type.”
I close my eyes as I turn away. I open them again and focus in on his bare feet, and the petty part of me wants to step on his toes. Make him feel the pain coursing through my body.
“I think of you as a sister.”
Well, talk about a slap in the face.
I tear my gaze from his bare feet and up to his beautiful face. Even through my tears, I find him stunning. My eyes settle on his lips. I hate that I never got to kiss him. “A sister,” I say, drawing out the words.
He grins, and it’s as if he doesn’t realize he is wrecking my world. “Yes, my little, awesome sister.”
It’s funny that the one part of him I’ve always wanted to press my lips to is now, basically, a weapon.
A weapon causing the demise of my heart.
Chapter Two
Boon
I stand against the wall with my arms crossed over my chest, trying not to blow up.
My buddy Wesley McMillan stands beside me as we watch my ex-fiancée, and her new fiancé, carry her big furniture out of my house. We could help, but I’d rather take a puck to the junk than do that. It has been over a year since Julia moved out, and when she did, I had agreed to hold on to her larger furniture for her. She went on and on about how she didn’t have anywhere to put her grandmother’s old stuff. I happened to love her grandmother, had been there to bury her, so I’d agreed. I’d also felt bad since I had chosen my career over our relationship, when she’d demanded I pick one or the other. I never saw this ending, but apparently she couldn’t handle my career any longer. Figured that was my fault, so I kept the furniture temporarily.
I didn’t find out about the cheating until about a month later. After doing so, I wanted to set all her shit on fire. My mom said I couldn’t, said it would bring me down to the cheating whore’s level. Since it was the only time I’d ever heard my mom use the word whore, I refrained. But I couldn’t believe what Julia had done. I had been with this woman for a huge part of my adult life. We met right out of high school when we’d gone to the same college. We were just friends in then, but she didn’t miss any of my home hockey games. Our families became close, our best friends got married after meeting each other, and when I proposed, she promised me her forever. I’m not entirely sure what happened, but one day, she decided I wasn’t enough and left.
I wasn’t “there” for her.
I was emotionally unavailable.
She thought we were better apart.
In my defense, I was there as much as I could be—hello, professional hockey player. Also, I’ve always been emotionally unavailable. Yeah, I come from a broken home and all that jazz, but that’s not the reason I don’t show emotion.
I don’t show emotion because I don’t want to. And if we were better apart, then why did we spend three fucking years together?
When I found out she was engaged to the guy she had cheated on me with, I realized she was right. We were better apart because I never would have cheated on her. Had the chance to do so left and right, but I never took it. Because I didn’t fucking want it. I only wanted her. The guy she is engaged to was one of my non-hockey-playing buddies, Phil. We met at a foundation dinner with the hockey team I play pro for, the Nashville Assassins. Phil was a cool dude, really smart, helped me with the investments I had made to prepare for Julia’s and my future. What I didn’t realize was he wasn’t planning for my future but for his. With my girl. I found out about her and Phil in an Instagram post of him on one knee, proposing to her.
I have loved her for a year, and she has said yes.
A year?
We had only been broken up for six months.
Oh, the rage. I felt it in my soul. I was ready to drop below her level and set everything on fire, including him. But for some reason, I didn’t. I may have seen my life with her, but at least it all ended before we were married with dogs and kids. I can handle my broken heart, but it’s hard to handle one belonging to a dog or a kid. I still don’t know how my mom did it when my dad left her, but she did. So, I channeled my awesome single-mother vibes, and I took my frustrations out on the ice. Every opponent was a team full of Julias and Phils. It brought me great pleasure, slamming my bodies into them. In the end, because of my ruthless play, I helped bring the Cup home.
Lost a fiancée, but replaced her with one sexy-ass Stanley Cup ring.
One would think this shit today wouldn’t suck because of that, but it still does.
I watch as Julia takes box after box to the front door. She still looks as gorgeous as she did the day I met her. Her blond hair is short, in a bob that brings out the angles of her face. She has thin lips and pink cheeks. I’ve always teased her for her brown eyes, saying she’s full of shit. Or maybe I was predicting the future. She’s super trim and always has been. She hardly eats, and it used to drive me crazy, but her mom is the same way. They’re all so prim and proper. She grew up with old blue-blooded money, but she wasn’t snooty. Her parents loved me, even though I came from a broken home and wanted to play pro hockey. I bought this house for us, for our life together, but now, it’s a bachelor pad for Wes and me.
Oh, how the tides turn.
As I watch Phil struggle with one of her grandmother’s old chairs, I scrunch up my face. Phil is older than me, in his late thirties, and has gray hair. He’s on the heavier side, but he’s not bad-looking. He’s actually handsome, not as good-looking as me, but not awful, obviously. He’s also loaded. I tell myself it’s not the money, because hello, I have money and so does she. Because of that, I’m unsure what makes him better than me. The only thing I can come up with is he is around to worship her constantly and openly. I don’t show my feelings very well, but I did worship her, and I thought I made her feel special, but obviously not.
When Phil reaches out, cupping the back of her neck, I want to break his arm.
“That’s all the boxes, princess?”
Princess. What in the ever-loving hell?
Julia nods. “Yeah. I think that’s everything.” She then looks at me. “If you help us with these last few boxes, we’ll be out of here sooner.”
I don’t move, but Wes, the good dude he is, comes off the wall where he’s been leaning. “Yeah. Let me do that before Boon comes unglued.”
&nbs
p; Well, that was unnecessary. “Not coming unglued at all, but sure as hell not helping.”
She narrows her eyes as Wes and Phil handle everything. She grabs a box but then puts it back down, placing her hands on her hips. “You’re being very childish about this.”
I make a face, my eyes narrowing. “How so?”
“Not helping, being rude to Phil—”
“He was sleeping with you six months before we broke up. He knew about our relationship, knew I loved you, and knew our plans. So, yeah, I’m not going to be nice to him.”
She shakes her head. “It wasn’t his fault. We can’t control what we feel.”
Now I move from my spot on the wall, leaning in toward her, and she takes a step back. I know I’m a big dude, and it might seem like I’m hanging on by a thread, but I’m not violent. I would never hurt her and she knows that, yet she acts the victim. Really, I’m the victim. “Maybe not, but you can control your actions. You should have broken up with me when you first started feeling something for him. It meant you didn’t love me anymore, and you didn’t need to draw this out for as long as you did.”
She rolls her eyes. “Like I could have. You were too busy making everything seem great.”
“Because I thought it was. Hell, you need an Oscar for your performance.” I start to slow clap like the asshole I am, and she glares. “Fuck, Jul, I never knew. Way to go.”
“You didn’t know because you didn’t care. You chose the sport over me.”
I drop my hands and then throw my head back, groaning loudly. “That’s a bunch of fucking bullshit, Jul, and you know it.” I meet her gaze once more, glaring down at her. “I loved you with my whole damn body. You gave me a pile of crap, saying that I didn’t care for you, when I did. And then you asked me what I wanted, you or my career. How in the hell am I supposed to provide for you when I’m not playing? I had to work to provide. To give you this life you’re so accustomed to. This is what I am—a hockey player. You knew that going in.”
“I wanted you home. With me.”
“You knew who you were marrying,” I say simply. “Who you’d been with. I haven’t changed. But you…you have. You manipulated me into feeling like shit for wanting my career, when in all reality, you were already cheating on me. I mean, talk about some shitty shit. And I never saw it coming.”
She holds up her hands. “It wasn’t like that.”
“Then how was it? Were you or were you not cheating on me for six months?”
She shakes her head, and I see no guilt. It’s almost as if she’s good with it and doesn’t care that she hurt me. What a bitch. “I wanted more.”
“Well, I guess you got it, but I wish you had broken it off with me when things started with Phil. Not lead me on and fuck him on the side. But I guess you didn’t want your parents to be embarrassed by losing all those deposits for the wedding that would never happen.”
She scoffs. “Boon, that didn’t matter. They were already embarrassed I was marrying a piece of shit.”
I’m taken aback, but I refuse to let her see it. “Did I become a piece of shit before or after you started cheating on me?” I gesture between us. “Also, how am I a piece of shit when I didn’t cheat? I was completely and utterly committed.”
“Maybe I am one now for what I did. But you’ve always been one—and will continue to be one. That’s why it didn’t work. How could it when you aren’t even around? Or don’t even care for anyone but yourself? It’s pathetic. Shit, you’re pathetic.”
Her words will not hurt me.
She doesn’t have that power anymore.
“Right back atcha, princess,” I sneer, and she rolls her eyes.
She reaches back for her boxes and heads toward the door.
“Good luck in your marriage. Try not to cheat.”
She scoffs. “Why would I cheat on someone who worships me?”
Julia heads out of the house just as Wes comes in. He shuts the door with more force than needed before looking back to me. “Man, I’m glad that shit is over.”
I’m still staring at the door. “Was I not good to her?”
He lets his head drop back along with his shoulders. “Dude, we’ve been through this. She’s a cheating whore who didn’t deserve you. Don’t let this shit get to you.” He moves into the living room, falling onto the couch.
“She said I was a piece of shit who didn’t care about her.”
“She’s full of it. Don’t let this bother you. She’s gone. You’re free, nothing here is hers. Come on. Let’s get on Fortnite.”
I don’t move, though, and he groans loudly.
This isn’t our first go-round when it comes to Julia. Wes and I have been close since I came to the team three years ago. We became friends instantly. The chemistry was there, on and off the ice. We both like the same movies and music, enjoy craft beer, and we also both grew up in single-parent households. His mom had passed from complications during his birth. His dad, being the cool-ass dude he is, raised Wes himself, and Wes adores him completely. My mom loves Wes, and she doesn’t like many of my hockey friends. Says they are a bad influence. But not Wes. He’s one of the good dudes, the guy who brings your daughter home by nine and sends poems and affirmations of love.
We may have not known each other long, but he is my best friend.
The person I grew up with, my childhood best friend, dumped me when Julia and I broke up. In his defense, his wife is Julia’s best friend and she has him by his balls, but he did drop me. Wes, though, he was my constant confidant. We got drunk, we went to strip clubs, we ate bad food, and he listened. When I say listened, I mean I cried, bitched, and moaned for a whole month, and he never complained. He was there for me. He bashed her with me, and he called me on my bullshit. I wanted to call her, try to make it work, but he wouldn’t let me.
Why would you want to be with someone who cheated on you?
I didn’t. If I’m in a relationship, I’m in one, and I want the same from my partner. It’s easy for me to say I don’t think I would have made it through the breakup without Wes.
He’s a damn good dude.
The brother I never had.
I walk over to the lounge chair and fall into it, shaking my head. “I really don’t understand what happened. I don’t think I changed.”
He tilts his head, and I can hear him say, “You didn’t. She did. It happens.”
“It just blows my mind. She wasn’t some manipulating bitch when we got together. She was great. Loved the rink, loved hanging out with my friends and being at my games. I’d thought I chose right. Do you think it was when I got farther into the league that it all changed?”
Wes starts to bang his head into the sofa, and while I want to laugh, I don’t feel like it. I’m not broken over her anymore, but I am bitter. I think it’s the lack of closure. I want her to admit that she left me because she couldn’t handle my career. But instead, I get bullshit excuses and name-calling from her. She tries to make me feel like shit for a relationship she ruined. I did everything right, to the best of my ability, and yeah, it sucks that I wasn’t enough, but my mom keeps telling me there is someone out there who will love me and my career.
Not sure I want to do it all again, but things could always change.
Maybe my mom is right and someone great will come along.
Or I’ll continue to think all women are cheating whores.
I mean, the possibilities are endless.
All of a sudden, Wes sits up, his hands on his knees and his eyes on me. “Dude, listen to me, okay?”
I blink. “Okay?”
“I think Julia thought the life you were promising her was gonna be the best life ever, but then it wasn’t. We are gone all the fucking time, weeks on end. Our lives revolve around this sport. It is hard to find a woman who wants that, who is supportive and willing to go the extra mile for you and your love of the game. I think, at the time, Julia thought she wanted that, but then after you moved to Nashville, she realized it wasn’t fo
r her. Do I blame her for wanting out? No, I don’t. It’s rough, takes a special chick. I just wish Julia had done things differently. Do I think she is a bitch for cheating on you? Yes. I hate her. You are better off without her.”
I just blink, and then slowly, I turn my face up in a grin. “Thanks, man.”
“I got you, dude,” he says simply. “And believe me, when you watch your dad go through females left and right because not many women want to stick with a guy who loves the sport and his son more than them, you learn a few things. My dad was constantly working when he wasn’t at the rink with me. It takes a unique woman to want this life, to want you, and I don’t think Julia was it.”
“Is that why you’ve stayed clear of relationships?”
He laughs but then presses his lips together. I’ve seen this look; it always comes when we talk about his relationship status. Sometimes, I think he might be gay. I wouldn’t care, it’s his life, but I have seen him hit on women. Though, the moment it gets serious or too intimate, he bolts. I don’t get it. And the one time I asked, he freaked out. So I don’t bring it up. At all.
“I’m weird. Let’s leave it at that.”
“Sounds good,” I agree as I reach for the controller. “I don’t know.”
He reaches for one too. “Don’t know what?”
“I don’t know.”
“Oh…well, good talk,” he teases, and I laugh. “I know you’re pissed she’s moved on, but the thing is, that can be you. I know you say you have moved on, but I haven’t seen you go out with anyone or even try to.”
I make a face. “I just met and slept with Brianne not that long ago.”
“You met her at the cupcakery. Told her you wanted a side of her with your cupcake, and you did her in her car.”
“Yeah? Good times.”
“Did you call her back?”
I meet his gaze. “No, but I know her name, which is good when I go to get more cupcakes next week.”
He chuckles. “This is true, but you could have taken her to dinner.”
I shake my head. “I wanted dessert.”
He snorts. “You’re a pain in the ass.”