The person behind me cleared their throat and I noticed that Lyla and Megan had moved forward three inches. Heaven forbid I let them have some personal space instead of close the gap so that we got to the front of the line point two seconds faster.
Megan asked me a question that I didn’t catch, and it took three times before I heard her. “What will Ryder want to drink?”
Jeez, I wasn’t even sure. He wasn’t much of a drinker, but I was sure he’d want to celebrate. Didn’t celebrations call for shots?
I should really know this about him.
Now I’m worried about knowing his alcohol preferences? Everything suddenly seemed like a bigger deal, like we had a hairline fracture in our relationship and it was growing another inch at a time. Don’t be a downer. Tonight’s about celebrating.
I was always trying to cross bridges before I could even see them. “I’m not sure, but I’m having a shot.”
Lyla grabbed some Jell-O shots and we tipped them back before mixing up two rum and Cokes each.
We got a few dirty looks for hogging the table, and I almost explained they were for hockey players, but I figured being their girlfriends would only earn us more jealous shade.
The crowd pushed forward as we left, and I barely kept the cups upright. Somewhere along the way, I got separated from Megan and Lyla. One second they were right behind me, then I turned around to find strangers staring back at me. I glanced around, getting knocked into on every side, and holding two drinks so wasn’t helping.
The walls-closing-in sensation grew to the overwhelming point and I rushed toward the side of the room where there was more breathing space to regroup and look for my friends.
“Lindsay! Hey!” Daniel Kelly waved me over.
Since he was the first hockey player I’d encountered since the game, all the cheer coursing through me rose up and came out in the form of a squeal. “Congrats on the game! That was amazing.”
“What?” he asked, leaning closer and placing his hand on my lower back.
“I said congrats on the game! I’m so excited that you guys are advancing to the next round!”
“Yeah, I’m so stoked.”
He glanced at the red Solo cups in my hands and flashed me a big grin. “Two-fisting it. I admire that.”
I laughed and then moved my lips next to his ear so he could have a chance at hearing me. “One’s for Ryder. Do you know if he’s here yet?”
“I’m pretty sure Ox was right behind me when I came in. Last I saw, he was right over…” Daniel’s spine went stick straight and he slowly dropped his hand from my back.
When my gaze followed his, I saw for myself why he looked so freaked out. Ryder stood a few feet away, his fists clenched, a murderous gleam in his eye.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Ryder
The high from winning the game drained from my body as rage rushed up to fill the void.
You know what made it hard to convince yourself that you were being stupid and worrying over nothing? When you saw your girlfriend laughing and talking to your teammate, his hand on her back, their close posture way too intimate.
“Hey, babe!” Lindsay took three large steps, wrapped her arms around my waist, and kissed my cheek. My nerve endings short-circuited, the whiplash of going from anger to desire confusing them. She’d called me babe, too.
Maybe she threw it out because she needed to divert attention from the fact that she was flirting with my teammate two seconds ago. I’d tried to ignore it and convince myself it was no big deal before, just like I’d attempted to do the same with the bartender a couple of nights ago.
“What the hell, Lindsay?”
She carefully withdrew her arms and glanced at the cups in her hands. “Did I spill on you? Sorry.” She licked one of the cups and her hand, swiping the liquid off with her tongue. “I got you a drink to celebrate your win.”
“Daniel gets to put his hands all over you while you flirt with him, and all I get is a drink?”
She scrunched up her eyebrows, and Daniel disappeared, moving faster than he ever did on the rink. “I was not flirting with him. I was congratulating him on the win, the way I’m trying to congratulate you. Maybe you’d see that if you pulled your head out of your ass.”
“Oh, so I just imagined it?” A distant part of me knew I was being a huge prick, yet I couldn’t stop, especially after she was getting mad at me. “I’m not an idiot. I know you two have hooked up before.”
Her face dropped. “Forever ago.” She shook her head. “You said you didn’t care about that.”
“I don’t care about the past, but this is the present that’s happening right now.”
“Thanks for the lesson and for being a condescending jerk while all I’m trying to do is congratulate you on your win.” She clenched her jaw. “Why don’t you just say what this is really about? I had a run-in with your dad at the game. Thanks for warning me that our parents had a history.”
Of course Dad went and told her before I could—why am I even surprised? “I barely found out myself, and I’m trying to deal with it.”
She swung the drink in her right hand around. “No, you’re not dealing with it, you’re freaking out. I get it, because it freaks me out, too, but I tried to tell myself that you and I are different, and our parents’ past didn’t matter, just like my past didn’t matter.”
I raked my hand through my hair. “This isn’t about the past. I’ve given up a lot of hours of studying and training to be with you, and I need you to tell me that I wasn’t just your way back into the hockey world.”
She let out a mirthless laugh. “Like I couldn’t have gotten in without you? Oh, I could’ve in a hot minute, but if you’ll remember right, I didn’t want to be pulled back into this world.” She jabbed a finger into my chest. “You’re the one who insisted you wanted me here.”
Things were getting out of control and my thoughts whirred, trying to sort out the facts from the emotionally charged situation. “I do. I just…” I dragged a hand over my face. “I’m trying to process. But with the NCAA Tournament coming up, what I need to do is focus on hockey. I can’t afford to screw up and let all my hard work go to waste. I still have to go to college here next year.”
“You’ve had time to process, several more hours than I have, and I think we both know you’ve already made up your mind, even if you don’t want to have to come out and say it.” She pressed her lips together, her eyes going glossy. “The really sad thing is, I started to think I belonged here. You clearly don’t see that, though, because you’re looking at me all conflicted, like a problem to be solved, even after I’ve been nothing but upfront with you. About how I grew up; who I used to be. Obviously when you said that you don’t care about my past, you meant you’d wait and throw it in my face after I fell for you, so it could hurt that much worse.
“Well, mission achieved.” Lindsay tipped back her drink, then shoved the other cup in my hand, hard enough it crumpled and liquid sloshed over the side. “Congrats on your win and for proving once and for all that guys are judgmental assholes. I’ll make it nice and easy for you and give you lots of extra time to focus on hockey, because I’d rather not be referred to as a waste of time. In the long run, I guess you’re doing me a favor, because now I don’t have to worry whether or not I’m making a rash decision about my future that I would eventually regret.”
She charged past me, and I just stood there, like the stupid idiot I was.
Damn it to hell. That came out all wrong. I let everything I’d found out mess with my head, and I’d overreacted when I saw her and Daniel.
I wished that I could run after her and say that I was sorry, and that of course I trusted her.
While I was sorry, I didn’t know if it changed enough to make a difference in the long run. We’d had one complication after another since starting our relationship. I didn’t like who I became when I saw her so much as talking to another guy. Daniel was my teammate, and one of the few people I considered
a friend, and a couple of minutes ago, I wanted to rip his arms off.
Even now, the urge to hunt him down and threaten him to stay the hell away from Lindsay remained. What did that say about me?
Then there was how I’d been playing lately. I couldn’t pretend that being with her wasn’t distracting when my game stats said otherwise. I’d made some big plays tonight, but that was only after Dane had to pull me out of my thoughts. The biggest games of the season were still ahead of us, and I needed to play better. Unlike Lindsay, I had to come back here next year, and I’d rather not go from starter to bench sitter.
I need to hit the gym. Of course it was closed right now, not to mention my legs were practically noodles from the game. Nothing made sense anymore, and my head spun, and I wasn’t sure if I was more pissed or ashamed, but I didn’t like either.
Maybe it’s time to just let her go, before we end up doing even more damage. If I could even get Lindsay to forgive me for how I’d acted tonight—and that was a huge fucking if—spending more time together would only make it that much suckier in the end.
What’s the point? It’s over. It was always going to end, anyway.
The cup in my hand called to me, reminding me it was there, and I downed it in a few large gulps. I was supposed to feel happy—we were advancing to the NCAA Championship.
Instead I just felt like shit, and I longed to be numb so I could forget everything for a while.
Luckily, I was at a party with lots and lots of alcohol. Everyone deserved one night to be a complete idiot, right? I figured after twenty years of always falling in line, I was long overdue.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Lindsay
Confession#18: I’ve been wearing yoga pants for three days straight.
Confession#19: I’ve consumed an entire tube of raw cookie dough.
Confession #20: I almost broke down and called Ryder after half a bottle of wine that I chased with the aforementioned cookie dough.
When it came to confessions that fell on the sad and pathetic scale, I could go on all day. I’d hoped that Ryder would come over and apologize at the very least, even though I wasn’t delusional enough to think it’d truly change anything.
But he hadn’t come over, hadn’t called or texted, and that made it clear he’d never cared about me the way I’d cared about him.
I’d considered staying in Boston for him, too, and that only made me feel stupider. All those times I’d sworn I wouldn’t be like my mom, living her life for whatever guy was in it at the moment, and then I’d been about to do the exact same thing for Ryder. I’d tried to tell myself that having a job while I was staying for the guy would make all the difference, but I was more like her than I wanted to admit.
Even with that realization bouncing around, every inch of me bled misery, each pump of my aching heart only converting the misery to agony and sending it back through my body.
Confession #21: Broken hearts hurt like hell, and I’m pretty sure mine will never be right again.
I pushed my hand over the spot in my chest where the pain radiated from and a few tears slipped out.
The sound of a key sliding into the door had me quickly wiping the tears from my cheeks.
My roommate Natalie came in, and her expression made it clear she’d noticed I hadn’t moved from where I’d been this morning when she left. “Are you ever going to leave the couch and shower?”
Confession #22: I skipped my Monday classes, and I was considering not bothering with today’s, either.
“What do you care?” I asked.
“Just asking, jeez.” She huffed. As she disappeared into her bedroom, I heard the “bitch” muttered under her breath.
I only wished I were the bitch I used to be—that girl didn’t feel heartbreak. She knew that love made people weak.
Stupid fucking love, and stupid guys who made me think they were different when I knew better.
If only I hadn’t let my walls down. If only I would’ve skipped that first party he invited me to. Or the second one. If only Ryder was a dumb jock so he couldn’t have tutored me—while I was wishing, why couldn’t I have been born a math genius?
Since I could if only for hours, I picked up the remote, intending to change the channel and see if there was some horrible movie or show on TV I could get lost in.
But when I brought up the cable guide, I noticed the time, and then I couldn’t quite bring myself to click on a show. My math class started in thirty-five minutes, and I had the last test before the final. Was I really going to sit here and let some guy undo everything I worked for? My heart gave a painful squeeze that stole my breath, but resolve worked its way into the mix.
Thanks to my former tutor, I’d been doing well on my homework and quizzes. If I earned at least a B on this test and on the final, I should be able to graduate, get the hell out of this town, and renew my mission to put my past life behind me—literally hundreds of miles behind me.
I’d never watch an NHL or AHL game, or Google famous hockey players again, much less talk to one. Nope, I’d never so much as glance at a hockey player ever again.
I tossed the remote onto the coffee table, pushed myself to my feet, and headed for the shower. I had a math class to pass so I could get the hell out of Dodge.
…
After an epic exhale that sent every last ounce of oxygen out of my lungs, I extended my test to the TA.
But when he pinched the papers between his fingers to take it, I couldn’t quite let go. I had so much riding on two little sheets of numbers and symbols.
His impatient gaze met mine and I released it. I made my way out of the building with a steady stream of other students, cut across the grass, and headed toward the Heights offices. The one thing I’d kept up on during my three-day pity fest was my work there, editing articles on my laptop in between sappy movies and foods with more preservatives than nutrition.
Despite my best attempts at distraction, my mind wouldn’t quite move off the test I handed in. No surprise, doing the math was complete torture, not only because it included numbers and symbols that made my head hurt, but also because I couldn’t stop picturing Ryder, and the way he used to encase me with his big body as he helped me with my assignments. The entire time, I heard his voice in my head explaining problems and adding the words of encouragement he’d given me as I stumbled my way through tricky equations.
I’d never be able to think about math without also thinking about Ryder, and I couldn’t decide if that made me hate it more or a little less.
Regardless, I’d made it through the test, and I was confident on about 75 percent. If I’d guessed correctly on a few of the problems I wasn’t as confident about, I had a good shot at a passing grade.
As I walked by the Conte Forum building, I cursed myself for not going a different route—Ryder stood right in front, either on his way in our out, his dark hair and tall, massive body impossible to miss.
The world came crashing to a halt and I forgot how to breathe. Every cell in my body seemed to be reaching for him. My lips moved like they were going to call out to him even if I didn’t give them permission to do so.
Then I noticed the blonde at his side. The adoring look on her face. The way he was turned to her, listening to whatever she was saying.
Who the hell is that? The old Lindsay I’d tried to suppress wanted to charge over, shove the girl away from my man, and tell her to get lost.
But Ryder Maddox wasn’t mine. I wasn’t sure he ever was. My lungs tightened to the uncomfortable point and I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from crying.
That asshole. He accuses me of flirting with another guy and he takes all of five minutes to recover while I spent days moping over the loss of us.
From this distance I couldn’t be sure, but I swore it was the same girl who’d been flirting with him all those weeks ago, when I’d hid from him in the library, and now I wished I’d done a better job.
Looks like you’re super focused on hockey, dud
e. Glad you’re putting your newly freed-up spare time to good use.
For all I knew, nothing was going on between them, but the fact that I wanted to go tear her hair out anyway was enough to make me feel crappy about myself—this was exactly why I left my old life behind. I didn’t want to feel jealous or petty.
I didn’t want to feel like someone had reached into my chest, squeezed my heart until it was a mangled mess, and then just left it there to try to keep doing its job.
I couldn’t believe that I’d temporarily lost my mind and thought love made me stronger. The last thing I felt now was strong. I wanted to fall to the ground and cry.
But I was done feeling weak and like my life was out of control. Earlier when my roommate called me a bitch, I wished it was that simple, because then I could be cold and unfeeling.
Well, fake it till you make it, right?
I shoved away the raw desperate sensation taking over my chest and let the mask of indifference set in. Part of me hoped I’d have another run-in with Ryder, because then I could show him just how little I cared.
I wasn’t crazy enough to incite it now, though, and fortunately the eagle statue between us gave me fairly good cover.
I charged toward my office, deciding to pour everything I had into my last month and a half of work. I was going to email Andrea Green, too. By the end of the day my goals would be back on track, no more letting my emotions talk me into making stupid decisions.
Everyone better steer clear of me. Because the bitch is back, and I don’t plan on letting her protection leave me ever again.
Chapter Forty
Ryder
Ashley had approached me as I walked out of the Conte Forum building, and while I didn’t want to stop, I didn’t want to be a total dick, either. I’d felt like one the past few days enough as it was.
Confessions of a Former Puck Bunny (Taking Shots) Page 21