Matter of Fact: A Hockey Romance (The Hart Series Book 7)

by M. E. Carter

  Table of Contents

  Matter of Fact

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Epilogue

  Sneak Preview

  About the Author

  Follow M.E. Carter

  Other Books by M.E. Carter

  Copyright © 2020

  By M.E. Carter

  Editing: Janice Owen

  Cover Design: Murphy Rae

  Formatting: Uplifting Author Services

  Ebook ISBN: 978-1-948852-31-9

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. No part of this publication may be stored or introduced into a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form, or by any means.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, people – living or dead – is entirely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of various products, characters, businesses, artists, and the like which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

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  Trigger Warnings

  Chapter One

  Ellery

  July

  The Maryland file is done and put away. The Julian file is still pending, but up to date. The West’s are still sending over paperwork…

  Glancing at my desk and around my office one last time, I’m satisfied everything that needs to be done for the day is finished and filed where it needs to be. Having a clean desk doesn’t come easy for me. I much prefer to work amongst clutter. However, I’ve discovered over the five years I’ve worked as a junior accountant at Welch and Associates, if I come in to a clean desk first thing in the morning, I have an easier time staying focused.

  And since I’m up for a senior accountant position soon, I need to ensure I stay focused.

  Right now, I’m struggling with keeping my thoughts on track. Not work thoughts. No, those are easy compared to the emotional thoughts I’m having right now.

  I flutter around my office making sure the blanket on the back of my small loveseat is folded and placed just right, and picking up any rogue items that may have ended up on the floor. I know I’m spending nervous energy but I’m so excited for Kevin to come pick me up for dinner.

  Kevin and I have been dating since college when we were both on the gymnastics team at Southeast State University. Kevin was always quiet and kind with a sharp sense of humor most people never knew he had. He also never spoke a bad word about anyone. Not in public or in private, nothing like the jerks he would hang out with back then. I’m still not sure why he was friends with them in the first place. They were always trashing anyone who didn’t fall into some invisible box of acceptable features. It was obnoxious and over the years I watched it do a lot of damage to some of the more sensitive members of our team.

  Just because he hung out with jerks though, didn’t make Kevin one. He was always friendly and kind. He was reliable and worked hard. He encouraged me to be those things as well. It was all very attractive to me. Is still really attractive to me. Mostly. Like any relationship, we could probably use a little spicing up in our relationship, but who doesn’t after seven years? It’s nothing I need to worry about.

  He and I have a strong bond. And now he says he has something important we need to discuss. That can only mean one thing—he’s about to propose.

  I’ve been waiting seven years for this day. I love Kevin and I love our life together. I love working for his family. I love spending holidays with them where everything is decorated to perfection and it always feels classy. Basically, I just love him. But it’s been my dream to take things one step further and officially join the Welch family.

  I sigh deeply at the thought.

  And then I snap back to reality and grab my compact mirror out of my purse. Checking to make sure the coif at the back of my neck is still in place and putting a small dab of pink lipstick on to brighten the color of my lips a bit, I assure myself that I’m ready.

  I’m ready to be proposed to and I’m ready to be Mrs. Kevin Welch, Senior Accountant for Welch and Associates. Everything I’ve been working and hoping for is about to begin. I just know it.

  A quick knock on my door has me looking up just as Kevin peeks his head in. The shy smile I love so much greets me and my heart begins pounding at what’s about to happen.

  “Hey.” He slides in through the half-open door and shuts it behind him as I make my way toward him and greet him with a peck on the cheek. We may be getting engaged tonight but I still need to maintain my professionalism in the office.

  “Mmmm… you smell nice,” I remark and then smooth over the sleeves of his button-down. The butterflies in my stomach begin fluttering over the fact that he dressed up for this occasion. “And you look nice, too.”

  “I’m probably going out later.”

  I furrow my brow in confusion briefly. “I thought we were going to dinner.”

  “I mean, we could.” His face flushes with something—maybe embarrassment that he forgot we had dinner plans. “I guess it depends on how this goes.”

  I give him an understanding smile. He’s nervous and isn’t sure I’ll say yes. That has to be it. I love that about him. He doesn’t usually lack confidence, but this is a big moment for both of us.

  Grabbing his hand, I pull him over to the love seat and encourage him to sit down. “Why don’t we do this here. While we’re both sitting.”

  He blows out a breath as he settles on the edge of the cushion and I know he appreciates how easily I’m going with the flow. I don’t need a fancy proposal with a string quartet and an audience. Or a chef to write those four precious words in fancy sauce on my dessert plate. Or a photographer hiding in the bushes while we take a stroll through a garden of roses in full bloom.

  Yes, I may have thought about these things, but I don’t need them. I just need Kevin.

  He breathes deeply again, and I grab his hand.

  “It’s okay, Kevin. Whateve
r you have to say, I’m listening.” I make eye contact and smile, hoping to convey all my love and reassure him he has nothing to be nervous about. With the way his body relaxes, I’m hopeful it worked.

  “Okay. Ellery, we’ve been together for a long time…”

  “Seven years.”

  He pauses, mouth open. “Wow. I knew that but I don’t think it registered how long it’s actually been.”

  “Yep.” I bump his shoulder with mine and say, “The best seven years of my life.”

  He nods and clears his throat. “Anyway, these seven years have been great. I enjoy being with you and love that you’ve found your place here.” He gestures around the office and I know he’s referring to the family business. The family business I’m about to become part of in name as well as employment.

  “I love that we have such a great history together and I’d never want to do anything to jeopardize that.”

  That was an odd thing to say, but nerves will do that to people so I pretend not to notice and allow him to continue instead, my hand tightening in his.

  “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about the future and what I want for it.”

  This is it. The moment I’ve been dreaming about…

  “And I think it’s time we go our separate ways.”

  I open my mouth to respond eagerly when his words finally register.

  Wait…

  Wait… what?

  “You… what did you say? I thought I heard you say you want to break up.”

  He nods but doesn’t pull his hand away from mine. Just keeps holding it, like he’s the one who needs the lifeline in this moment and he expects me to be the one to give it to him.

  I slowly pull my hand back and rub it across my thighs, not sure if I’m trying to wipe away the clamminess I suddenly have or this moment from my memory.

  I take a few seconds to collect my thoughts before asking for clarification.

  “I don’t understand. Is something wrong?”

  “Oh! Oh no. Nothing’s wrong,” he says like that answers everything.

  “Theeeeen… why are you wanting to end our relationship?”

  “Well, I’ve thought about it a lot and I just don’t love you like I thought I did.”

  His words sting in a way I never expected. But his nonchalance is what’s really throwing me off. His entire demeanor is one that you might see when someone is trying to decide what kind of sandwich you want to order at the local deli, not break up with your girlfriend of seven years.

  “And how is that?” I ask slowly, almost afraid of his answer.

  “It was just young love and it’s run its course, you know?”

  No, actually I don’t. For me, it was real love. Mature love. The kind of love that puts someone else first and compromises their life to make the other person happy. Like turning down a job at one of the most prestigious firms in New York City making three times the amount she’s making now to stay close to her boyfriend whose love has run its course.

  I’m surprised to realize I’m not feeling hurt right now. I’m feeling anger. Maybe this is the first stage of grief or something but sitting next to him, realizing he made plans to go out after he popped in to break up with me is making me feel what I can only describe as ragey.

  I won’t give him the satisfaction of letting those feelings out, though. The last thing I want is to come across as the crazy girl and the one Kevin dropped just in time for her to lose her marbles. Even more important, though, I like my job and don’t want to lose it because of a lack of professionalism in the office.

  Internally, I groan. My job. I work for Kevin’s mother. I hope this doesn’t affect my ability to get that senior accountant position I’ve been working so hard for.

  Blinking a few times, I push back the few tears that water my eyes. Now that my anger is more under control I’m not sure if those are tears of frustration, sadness, or hurt. Regardless, I won’t let them fall until later.

  “This just feels like it’s coming out of the blue, Kevin.”

  “I’ve actually been thinking about it for a year or so.”

  “A year?” I’m sure the shock is evident on my face as I run through the last year’s worth of memories. I thought we’d found ourselves in a comfortable place and were building a life together. “Why didn’t you say anything before now?”

  He shrugs. “You know how I don’t like talking bad about people.”

  “About people or about me?”

  That seems to trip him up. Whatever this is, whatever has happened, I’m not going to get an “It’s not you, it’s me” sentence. Because it is me. It is definitely me. And I’m not sure how to feel about that.

  Except… done. I’m done. And I need to leave immediately before my crazy mix of emotions takes over with no way for me to stop them.

  Kevin startles when I suddenly pop up off the couch and rush to my desk, opening the drawer with a little too much force, but I won’t let him see me cry. I can’t let him see me cry. Not now. Now before he sees his friends and he tells them we’re over.

  “Well. I thank you for coming in to tell me.” Pulling the strap over my shoulder, I slam the drawer closed and it pops back out, nailing me on the knee. “Ow!” I say with a grimace when the pain registers.

  Kevin jumps up and starts toward me. “Ellery are you okay?”

  I hold up my hand to keep him from getting any closer. “I’m fine. Nothing I can’t handle. I was a gymnast, remember? Bruises are no big deal.” The giggle that comes out of my mouth sounds slightly hysterical to me, so I’m sure I must look crazed to him.

  “Anyway, thanks for coming in. I know you have plans so just lock up behind you, will you?” I slap the heel of my hand to my forehead. “Who am I kidding. This is your family’s business. Of course, you know what to do. Okay, bye now.”

  I scurry out of the room and down the hall, determined to get out of here as quickly as possible. But where am I going to go? My entire apartment reminds me of Kevin—my ex-boyfriend. I can’t go there.

  As the gravity of the situation finally hits me and as if my body recognizes I no longer have an audience, the tears begin to slide down my cheeks.

  I’m not sure where I’m going to end up but one thing is for sure—I need to drive.

  Chapter Two

  Liam

  The rotation being forced on my shoulder hurts like a bitch, but I bite back the explications that are on the tip of my tongue. I won’t give him any indication of the pain I’m feeling.

  “Hurts when I do that, eh?” Harry, our head trainer asks in his trademark Canadian accent. Apparently, I didn’t hide my grunt as much as I thought I did.

  “It’s not bad.” I’m lying. It feels really bad. But I don’t have time for a rotator cuff injury. We just started our very short off-season and I was dropped from the first line to second before the playoffs because of this shit. I’ve got a few short months to get myself back up to par, and I’d rather cut off my nuts than move to the third line.

  “I can feel you lying to me.” Taking his left hand and adding a little pressure to my shoulder, the spot that is tight as a wire, Harry’s right hand grips my bicep. There’s a pause, enough that I can anticipate the level of pain that is to come but not enough to speak, before he shifts my arm, rotating it in the opposite direction. The pain pierces through my muscles forcing me to suck in a breath. “That’s what I thought.”

  He gently drops my arm and squirts some lotion into his hand. Harry is the only person I know who has a utility belt on him at all times to carry around lotion, but it comes in handy when he needs to massage out some kinks in my traps.

  Gripping my shoulder, he begins kneading, applying the right amount of pressure in the wrong spot. It does nothing to relax me but everything to make me clench my fists together so I don’t cry out again.

  “I still don’t think it’s a tweaked muscle.”

  I grunt. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  “I’m just saying, you
’re too young for it to be taking this long to heal. I think it’s time for an MRI.”

  Pushing his hands away, I jump off the table and grab my shirt. “No.”

  “Come on, Liam. I know you’re afraid whatever it says will get you benched, but you’re playing like shit. You’re babying that arm and not following all the way through on your passes. It’s making your snapshot slow as fuck. If I can see it from back here, you know Coach can, too.”

  “Then fix it,” I grumble, getting angrier by the second. “Ice it more often or give me exercises to build it back up. Something.”

  I’m thirty-one years old and am quickly running out of time to stay in the sport that I’ve dedicated my life to. I can’t let an injury, and a ridiculous one at that, take me out. Seriously, shoulder injury? That’s just stupid.

  “I’m trying to fix it, Liam, but I can’t if you don’t let us take a closer look. There’s only so much I can do with pressure points and cupping. You need an MRI.”

  Tossing my shirt over my head, I look him dead in the eye. “I said no.”

  “Don’t make me get Coach involved. You know I’ll do it!” he says louder as I ignore his arguments and storm out the door.

  Whether it’s his job or not, the fucker better not get Coach involved with this. I’ll get an MRI when I’m good and ready. Right now is not the time. I just need some ice, ibuprofen, and a good rub down.

  Pain still radiates down my arm and even I know I’m lying to myself which pisses me off even more. I shouldn’t be resisting so much. If it’s an easy fix, I’m suffering for nothing. But if not…

  Pushing the thoughts aside I stomp down the hall and into the locker room, running straight into my teammate, Tucker.

  Holding his hands up, he looks at me like I’m about to charge him. Who knows? Maybe I will. “Whoa, man. What gives?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Grabbing some rogue stick tape off the floor, I throw it into my locker a little too hard. It bounces back at me which pisses me off even more.

  “Really? What did that tape ever do to you?”