Brutal Love & Stanley Cups_A Slapshot Novel

by Heather C. Myers

  Clara cleared her throat, her eyes finding Dean’s. They were still dark and mysterious, filled with passion. She seemed to disapprove of his name-calling, and even he could admit that it was probably juvenile. But the words just came out.

  “What I meant was,” he forced himself to say, though the words felt foreign, like he didn’t quite understand why he was saying such things, “hi. I’m Dean Morgan.” He stuck out his hand to the asshole still holding Clara’s hand.

  “I didn’t know you knew Dean Morgan,” he said in a low voice. However, despite the fact that Dean had called him an asshole, he still dropped Clara’s hand in order to shake Dean’s. His eyes still glimmered with excitement. “Hi. I’m Bill. I didn’t know you knew my girlfriend. Did you meet while she did that job for Seraphina Hanson? Regarding Alec Schumacher?”

  Dean shifted his eyes so he could look at Clara. He shouldn’t have been surprised that she hadn’t said anything to anyone about their previous relationship. There was a chance she wouldn’t be believed, and Clara had never been the type to show off or tell people her business. One of the many reasons he loved her. Plus, it wasn’t like he told every girl he hooked up with about his previous relationship - the only serious relationship he had had in his entire life.

  “Yeah,” he said slowly. There was a part of him that wanted to out her, that wanted this Bill asshole to know that she had been with Dean first. Maybe he would get so angry with her, he would break up and she would be single again. But then what? There was a good chance she wouldn’t want him and he didn’t know if he could commit to her. He swallowed and turned back to Bill. “Yeah. It was my way of saying thank you. Schu and I are close and I appreciated what she did.”

  Lie.

  Schu was a good kid but if Dean had to pick who he was closest to on the team, it would have to be Jackman.

  “It is so nice to meet you,” Bill continued.

  He continued to jabber on but Dean wasn’t paying attention to him. His eyes were on Clara’s and her eyes were on him. Even now, he could read those eyes like he could read a play developing in an opponent’s zone. She wasn’t sure what to make of this, didn’t know what his endgame was. He could respect that. In all honesty, he didn’t know what his endgame was. He had no idea why he gave Clara his stick or invited her down here for a tour of the locker room. She had already seen the locker room. Hell, he had taken her on the bench next to where his locker room was.

  He just wanted to see her again. He wanted to be near her. He wanted to be around her. Dean didn’t know what to expect. He didn’t know what was going to happen but he thought maybe seeing her would...

  “Let me show you around.” Dean had no idea if this was the appropriate thing to say. He hadn’t been paying any attention to what Bill was saying.

  “Sure, yes, that would be fantastic,” Bill said. He pulled Clara along with him, his hand going back to hold onto hers.

  At least she didn’t appear like she wanted to be here, even with him. Maybe she didn’t want to be here at all and it was only this fucker who got her down here.

  Dean wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter. If that was the case, then he was grateful. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t have a problem with Bill holding Clara’s hand like it belonged to him.

  Dean showed them around the locker room. He couldn’t go in the main locker room, where the press was, just yet. Instead, he showed them where the shower was, where the stick room was. At this point, the players began trailing through the locker room with towels wrapped around their waists or in sharp suits. Those that were scratched due to injury were in the suits, having watched the game from the press box.

  Bill managed to stop every player he could to grab a picture with him. He didn’t ask if Clara wanted to be in them but he had no problem asking her to take the pictures.

  “Sounds like a real winner,” Dean commented. He, himself, was in sweatpants and a white muscle shirt. He had skillfully avoided the media and hopped in the shower quickly. He wanted to be ready for Clara.

  “You don’t get to judge my boyfriends,” Clara snapped in a whisper as Bill started talking to Kyle Underwood. She held up the phone and took pictures, probably to give her some excuse to do something with her hands.

  “Sure I do,” he said. “At least find someone who wants to take pictures with you, for crissake.”

  Dean quirked a brow as he watched Clara take Bill’s picture. She had a wrinkle of frustration over her nose - the same one she always got whenever he did something to piss her off and that was a lot of the time.

  He felt himself smile at the sight. God, he missed this. More than he missed a lot of things. More than he missed Florida. Florida had helped his career, no doubt about it. He enjoyed the team - even if he hated everyone on the ice now, off the ice was a different story - but he loathed the humidity and actually looked forward to summers because he always found his way back home to Orange County.

  “How did you meet this guy?” Dean asked in a low voice. “Did you just need someone so you wouldn’t be alone, or did you feel sorry for the guy?”

  He watched as Clara clenched her teeth. When obvious pain flashed across her eyes, he knew he had pushed it too far. He didn’t have a right to judge her for her boyfriends. He knew that. But something inside of him couldn’t stop himself when it came to criticizing her.

  “Did that make you feel good?” she asked through gritted teeth.

  Jackman seemed to know what was going on because he cruised by Bill and started talking to him. Dean would have to buy the bastard a beer one of these days because it bought himself time with Clara, something he needed. Something he didn’t realize was important to him.

  “Did that make you feel cool?” she continued. “Congratulations, Dean. I didn’t think you could get to be any more of an asshole but you just topped yourself.”

  “Hey.” He placed a hand on Clara’s wrist but Clara immediately yanked it away from him.

  “No,” she snapped. “You don’t get to touch me. You don’t get to apologize and smile and shrug your shoulders like you didn’t really do anything wrong. Maybe that would work on other girls but it won’t work on me, okay? Please, just leave him alone. You don’t realize how much he adores you and this whole team.”

  “Enough where he completely forgets to offer to take your picture,” Dean pointed out.

  He could hear doors opening and closing. From the corner of his eye, he saw Zachary Ryan head out, waving goodbye to everyone. Bill looked up from his conversation with Jackman, almost as though debating on whether or not to interrupt it and go to Ryan or to stay there because Jackman had actually engaged him in conversation. Dean almost smirked in amusement at the sight but he bit it back because smiling while Clara was pissed never ended well for him.

  “He doesn’t know I’m a fan,” Clara pointed out.

  This caused Dean to pause and raise his eyebrow once again. He shifted his body so he was almost in front of Clara without making it obvious that he was in front of her. Bill didn’t seem like the possessive type - he didn’t even notice Dean talking to Clara because he was so wrapped up in his conversation with Jackman - but he didn’t want to get Clara in trouble with Bill later, even if it meant a potential breakup.

  “You haven’t told him?” Dean asked.

  He wasn’t sure how he felt about this. Part of him understood. Perhaps Bill wouldn’t believe him. Perhaps it wasn’t something she wanted to talk about because she was... ashamed? It hurt too much for her to talk about? Part of him was hurt, though. To pretend that he wasn’t a significant part of her life? Was it easy for her to pretend?

  “Why would I tell him?” she asked. She turned to look at Dean, her brows furrowed. “I don’t go out of my away and talk to people about you. Do you tell people about me?” Dean opened his mouth to say something but Clara cut him off. “Exactly, that’s what I thought.”

  Dean shut his mouth, glaring at her. He had barely spent two minutes with her and already she was burrowing herse
lf under his skin and becoming a pain in the ass.

  “Why did you bring me here?” Clara asked. She glanced over at Bill, who was still talking to Jackman.

  Jackman, somehow, entertained this asshole. Dean wondered if Chloe was out there waiting and if she was as patient as she seemed. He wasn’t sure how much longer Jackman could deal with him, though, so Dean wanted to jump on it as much as he as could.

  “What?” Dean asked, looking down at Clara. He tried to avoid her eyes as much as he could. If he looked into them, he would become weak. He would do whatever she asked if she looked into his eyes.

  “Why did you bring me here, Dean?” she asked in a low whisper. “What did you think you were going to get out of this? Why am I here?”

  “Can’t I just want to see you?” Dean asked in a low voice. His voice was filled with honesty and it surprised even himself. She had this ability to bend him and break him and make him more vulnerable than he ever wanted to be.

  “No.” Her brown eyes were firm. Keeping him out. “When you left...” She let her voice trail off, shaking her head. “I don’t blame you for what you did, Dean. Hell, I probably would have done the same thing if our positions were reversed. But when you left, you broke my heart. And I picked up the pieces and moved on. I know you go around and hook up with girls. Again, good for you. You don’t belong to me. What I’m saying, though, is you have your life. Do whatever you want. But please, leave me alone so I can live mine.”

  Dean clenched his teeth together to keep from saying something he might later regret. Clara left to go grab Bill, interrupting his conversation with Jackman. He didn’t seem happy with the interruption but when Clara huddled close to him, he rigidly nodded his head and followed her outside.

  She hadn’t even looked back at him. He took the hurt and the frustration coursing through his body and pushed it down so he wouldn’t feel it. He didn’t want to feel anything at all.

  Chapter 5

  Clara didn’t care if Bill was as pissed as his face made him out to be the minute they got into their car, she was over being around Dean and wanted to leave. Once they were safely tucked into the car, Bill whirled around and shot Clara an angry look.

  “If you weren’t feeling well, why even come to the game at all?” he asked. His voice wasn’t exactly raised, but it did have a tone that made it sound louder than it typically was. “Why allow me to use a ticket on you? I could have taken Cam or Steve, one of the guys at work. They wouldn’t have wasted an opportunity to go to the locker room and talk to the Gulls.”

  “You wouldn’t have even gotten to go to the locker room,” Clara pointed out. “I got the stick, remember? Me. Not anyone else.”

  This made Bill pause and he glanced in the rear view mirror to the backseat where Dean Morgan’s stick was. Clara was sure he could see the autograph on the blade in black sharpie. It seemed to settle him down. He took a deep breath and looked back at Clara.

  “I just...” Bill ran his fingers through his hair. “Art Jackman came up to me. Me, Clara. He wanted to talk to me. I felt... special. That’s been my dream, you know. To talk to these guys. I’ve never had such an opportunity before. Whenever they do fan events, it’s either too expensive or I can’t make it because of work. This is the first time I’ve been able to interact with them.”

  Clara sighed. She understood how important this was to him. Maybe she could have waited a little bit, made sure he got the time he wanted with the team, especially after a win in the Stanley Cup finals.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, curling her hair behind her ear. “I just… I was feeling claustrophobic in there and I didn’t know how to handle myself. I was overwhelmed, if I’m being honest.”

  He was silent for a long moment before placing a hand on her thigh. “Thank you for coming tonight,” he said. Clara picked up her eyes up and looked at him, surprised. “I had a great time with you. I wish you liked hockey more; we could go more often. I think you would really enjoy it.”

  Clara began to fiddle with her fingers. This was the moment. This was what she needed to do. Honesty. Tell him about her past. She could do this. And he deserved to know. If he could be understanding about this, about leaving the tour early even though he wanted nothing more than to stay.

  “Bill,” she said slowly. She couldn’t look at Bill, not yet anyway. She hadn’t talked about Dean with anyone in a long time. It felt completely foreign to her, and everything in her body screamed at her to tell her to stop. But she pushed through, she pushed forward. He needed to hear this. “We need to talk.”

  “Uh oh.” His hands dropped from the keys and fell into his lap. He twisted his torso so he faced her, giving her his full attention. “Am I going to like this conversation?”

  Clara grinned, glad he could find humor in this situation. It was one of the reasons why she loved him; he got over things quickly and didn’t hold grudges. Even if he made her feel bad for leaving, at least he wasn’t making her feel bad by being petty and making smartass comments.

  “Honestly, it’s not really a big deal,” she said, “but after tonight, I wanted you to hear it from me.”

  “Okay,” he said with a nod. “Sure.”

  Clara took a deep breath. Even with her seatbelt on, she shifted her shoulders so she could look at Bill directly.

  “Dean Morgan and I used to date a long time ago when he played for the Gulls,” she said quickly. “Before he got traded to Florida.” She held her breath.

  Clara watched Bill intently, trying to pick up any tell on his face. He seemed to be trying to let it sink in, and then once that happened, he thought about it. Finally, he furrowed his brow.

  “Wait, what?” he asked. “You and Dean?” He cleared his throat. “Look, Clara, I know Dean Morgan gave you a stick. You’re beautiful. I tell you that all the time. But just because he gave you his stick does not mean you guys dated. When he was with the Gulls, you were, what, seventeen?”

  “How old do you think I am, Bill?” Clara asked. She didn’t bother to hide her annoyed tone. There was so many things wrong with what he had just said that any appreciation she had for him had vanished. “I was nineteen. He was twenty-nine. It was the summer before he got traded to Florida. Do you... do you actually think I’m making this up?”

  Bill opened his mouth to respond before stopping. He tilted his head to the side, pressing his lips together. Clara knew that look. He made it whenever he disagreed with someone on the radio or any commentary during a hockey game, definitely the referees or whenever the Hollywood Stars played. This was his look of disgruntled agitation.

  Clara stopped fidgeting with her fingers and rubbed her thighs with her bare hands. She felt herself get frustrated, wanting nothing more than to react and bite his head off.

  “You don’t believe me,” she murmured. It was as if saying it made her realize that this was true. She blinked when he didn’t deny it and sat back in her chair. “Okay. Wow.” She looked out of the passenger window. It was pitch black, the only light coming from the street lamps that lit up the nearly-empty parking lot. “You don’t believe me.” She tilted her head to the side. “Why would I lie about that?”

  Bill shrugged his shoulders, shifting in his weight. “I don’t know, Clara,” he said. “To impress me.”

  “What?” This time, Clara couldn’t help the yelp that came out of her mouth.

  “Come on, Clara,” Bill said. At least he had the good sense to not even look at Clara. “You know how much I like the Gulls. Maybe you wanted me to be jealous? I don’t know how your mind works. I’m not a mind reader. I just don’t understand why you would pick Dean Morgan out of the entire team. He’s a lot older than you are.”

  Clara grit her teeth together but even she could not hold back her anger. “Because I’m not lying about Dean Morgan,” she all but shouted.

  “No need to react that way,” Bill said, his tone defensive. “No need to scream. You can be frustrated with what I’m saying but that doesn’t give you the right to yell at
me. The least you could do is treat me with respect.”

  Clara’s eyes widened. Was he serious right now? He completely manipulated the situation and made it seem like she was overreacting. She had seen him act this way before, but never with her. She should have known better.

  “Bill, I’m telling you this because I didn’t want you to find out from anybody else,” Clara said. She tried to keep her patience in check - not because she cared what he thought of her, not because she cared how she sounded. It was because she didn’t want to be that girl, the crazy girl who went off, even if he deserved it. “Why else would he give me his stick after the game?”

  “Because he wanted to thank you -“

  “Please.” She rolled her eyes. Patience went out the window. The crazy was coming out and she did not care about stopping it. “Does that sound like Dean Morgan? Honestly. When there are tons of fans, tons of kids, wanting his stick, why do you think he would give it to me? That job I did for Seraphina had nothing to do with him. He didn’t even know I was there.”

  Bill gave her a long look, one that seemed to insinuate that what she was saying was not true. “Maybe he thought you were pretty, Clara,” he guessed. “Like I said, I’m not a mind reader.”

  “So you think I made this whole thing up,” Clara said slowly, “just to impress you. If that was the case, why would I wait to tell you after we got serious? Why wouldn’t I tell you this when we first started dating?”

  “I’m not going to play this game with you, Clara,” Bill said, shifting in his seat. His fingers flexed before they wrapped around the wheel.

  “Why are you so afraid of me dating Dean Morgan?” she asked in a whisper. It made no sense why he would react this way. It had to do with the fact that he was scared or intimidated or something. The fact that he was silent, that he didn’t believe her, was him in denial. What she didn’t understand was why he was in denial in the first place.

  “I’m not afraid,” Bill snapped, his eyes cutting into hers. He took a breath. “Fine. Let’s say I believe you, and you dated Dean Morgan. How did you even get together? What made you break up?”