Charlie turned and stomped into the locker room. I followed a few paces behind, reaching out but stopping myself from touching her when she tripped over the mat that led into the room. Conversation ground to a halt as she righted herself and marched through the locker room and toward the closed door on the opposite side of the room. She didn’t knock before entering, and she slammed the door behind her.
The eyes of my teammates locked onto me, and I shrugged. There was no explanation for her behavior that I was willing to share with them. As I walked toward my cubby, nestled comfortably between Callahan and a wall, I pondered Charlie’s reactions to my advances. Anger and curiosity warred through my being as I took a seat next to Callahan in the silent room.
My jaw clenched tighter with each curious glance that passed my way. Uncomfortable seconds turned into uncomfortable minutes and muffled shouting leaked from the crevices of the office door. I wasn’t surprised to realize that Charlie was doing most of the shouting—I’d already seen her get worked up a couple of times. I was, however, surprised to hear Coach Fisher shouting back at her in short, angry intervals. My ears strained to hear. From my position half the locker room away from the door, I only caught muffled snippets of the argument.
“Do not support the decision…” I could hear Charlie start to shout.
“Your nose… broken…”
“His fault! Balance… grace… dainty… wasn’t him… face first into… jersey!”
“Actions led to… injury… hands of someone related to… do not tolerate…”
“Punched him… instigated altercation…” Charlie’s words caught me by surprise. Technically she did instigate the argument and then punched him. Did Tremblay not stand up for himself to the coaches and tell them what happened the day after Big Game, or did they simply not care?
“Doesn’t matter who…”
“Put a jersey on…”
“Charlotte… only fair… suspension…”
The slab of particle board and oak paneling couldn’t muffle the fury or volume of her next statement to Coach. “No disrespect, SIR, but put a fucking jersey on this man. I came here to watch a hockey game, not watch the boys play grab ass on the ice all night!”
— C —
My face burned with the evidence of my embarrassment, and I was pretty sure Emily and Joseph would never talk to me again. I should’ve felt relief over the fact that Tremblay and the Valors weren’t pressing charges against me for assault and battery. The only feeling coursing through my veins as Tremblay was dismissed was shame.
Shame over my tantrum, even if it did result in Sean’s suspension being lifted. Shame over causing a scene where I was loud and swore in front of strangers. And above all else, shame over the fact that I allowed myself to be put in such a position in the first place.
I should’ve apologized to Tremblay when I was knocked into him at Big Game. I shouldn’t have allowed my frustration with Devon to project onto him. If I could keep my stupid, sassy mouth in check, maybe I wouldn’t be standing in a locker room office with two people I cared about and a total stranger staring at me with wide eyes and slack jaws.
The heat on my neck and face burned hotter, and I took a deep breath. “Am I free to go?”
Coach Fisher nodded mutely, but Emily held her hand up to stop me before I could make a run for it. “Actually, Coach, I hate to kick you out of your office, but would you care terribly to give me and Charlie a moment of privacy?” She asked, and my stomach dropped. I guess I wasn’t in the clear after all.
Joseph cocked an eyebrow at his wife as Coach Fisher stood. The older man nodded before grabbing Joseph’s arm and steering him toward my spot near the door. “Take your time, Em. Me and Joe need to go light a fire under these boys anyway, or we’re gonna get our asses handed to us on the ice tonight.”
I shuffled to the side as Coach Fisher opened his door and led Joseph out. A momentary hush fell over the crowd of hockey players, and a few necks craned in my direction. Coach snapped the door shut, and I was forced to turn back to Emily. She stood against the desk with her arms crossed over her chest.
Most of the time I counted myself extraordinarily lucky that Emily treated me as an extension of her family. She brought me into the fold of her family when the only person I had in the world was Lindsey, and she’d made me feel just a little bit normal again. There were times, however, that having my best friend’s significantly older sister looking out for me was more of a pain in the ass than anything.
“Charlie, what the heck happened the other night?” She asked, and I leaned against the door with a long sigh.
“I was waiting for Lindsey at the bar. Some guy came and started chatting me up, and I got frustrated and tried to leave,” I started. The fact that that guy was Devon didn’t seem all that relevant at the moment.
“Okay,” she said slowly, a look of confusion marring her features.
I opened my mouth to try to explain I realized that I didn’t know how to explain the entire thing without sounding like a raving lunatic. Normally I might’ve run my hand down my face in frustration. I settled for crossing my own arms over my chest and gripping my biceps with trembling fingers.
“Listen, it doesn’t make sense now, okay?” I asked and she nodded. “But there was something about the way that guy was talking to me that made it seem like he was hitting on me out of pity because he thought I got stood up.”
“I don’t follow.”
I sighed and hung my head for a short moment. “I said it didn’t make sense, Em. I don’t know, I just couldn’t handle the guy, so I stormed into the crowd. I got my feet tangled with someone else and stumbled into Tremblay.”
Emily shook her head but smiled at me reassuringly. She uncrossed her arms and used them instead to prop herself against the desk. With a chuckle, she asked, “And this is when you decided to punch a massive, ridiculously good looking guy right in the jaw?”
“No,” I tutted with my own chuckle before continuing, “that was after I broke my nose.”
Emily pushed away from the desk and crossed the office. She pulled me into a half-hug and gave my shoulders a tight squeeze. “You’re a mess, girl.”
“Yeah, but you love me.”
She laughed as she released me from the hug. “Yeah, you’re all right.” I opened my mouth to protest, but her next words stopped me. “Now, puck drop is in like 30 and there’s a room full of half-naked men out there that I promise aren’t concentrating because they have no idea what’s happening in here with the woman that assaulted their assistant captain. How about you skedaddle up to the seats so they can focus.”
I could feel the heat in my face as it reddened, but I nodded none-the-less. I turned and opened the door and attempted a purposeful stride through the locker room. I only paused long enough to take note of a half-dressed Sean Tremblay and Devon Who-Gives-a-Shit-What-His-Last-Name-Is whispering fervently back and forth to one another.
Every eye in the room was trained on me as I picked my way toward the entrance. As I passed Tremblay and Devon, I saw Tremblay nod his head toward me before muttering something to his teammate. I shook my head, slightly bewildered, when Devon slapped Tremblay on the back and smirked at me in the same devil-may-care manner that he always had.
I doubled my pace and made it a quarter of the way down the corridor before someone shouted my name from behind me. Pounding feet piqued my interest, and I turned in time to see Tremblay skidding to a halt in his socks. An Under Armor tank clung to his muscles like a second skin, and I suddenly better understood my best friend’s incessant urge to sleep with him. Zeus himself must have carved the man from marble because there was no way in all the levels of hell that he was a mere mortal.
It took my lust hazed mind far longer than it should have to process that the words Tremblay was uttering to me weren’t in some secret language belonging to the gods of hotness. “…play tonight.”
“I’m sorry. Could you repeat that?”
Tremblay chuckled
, his muscles tensing and rippling beneath his immodest tank top. “I just wanted to say thanks. It takes balls to stand up to Coach. I appreciate it, even if I don’t get to play tonight.”
I meant to graciously tell Tremblay that I was more than happy to do what I did. That it would have been unjust for him to suffer the consequences of another’s actions. That I understood he wouldn’t be playing because Coach already submitted the list of active players for the game. All I actually managed to spit out was, “Oh.”
“Yeah,” he explained, “Coach has me listed as a suspension on the roster and can’t change it because the list was already submitted to the officials.”
I nodded along, never once interrupting to explain that I did understand why he wouldn’t be playing that night, that I wasn’t just some slag that hung around hockey games trying to snag a night with a player. “Yeah, anyway, I just wanted to catch you and tell you thanks. It’s not every day a hot girl saves your ass.”
“Uh…” my brain was on overload. Did he just call me hot? “You’re welcome?”
“Can I grab your phone?” He asked, and instinct led me to reach for the device in my pocket and hand it to the man before actually questioning why he wanted it. He typed for one long moment before saying, “I put my number in there as Tremblay. I want to know more about the girl that talked shit and punched me one week and then turned around and saved my job the next.”
Heat blossomed deep in my core and seeped into every extremity of my body. “Okay…”
A bright smile lit his face as he handed my phone back to me with a wink. “I can’t wait for your text, sweetheart.”
Chapter 5
— C —
Early morning sunlight streamed in through cracked blinds. The glaring, golden light annoyed the everliving crap out of me. I would’ve loved to burrow further into the warmth and softness of my thick down comforter, relishing the bonus day I received from work due to the holiday. The sharp memory of waking up smothering and in pain just two days before discouraged the act. There would be no comfy burrowing for me until my nose was better healed.
The suffocating pressure of responsibility eventually pulled me from my cocoon of warmth. My laundry wasn’t going to do itself; and after last week’s reception, I was fairly certain skinny jeans would never be considered dress code appropriate at work. I rolled my eyes as I pulled my hamper from my closet and began dragging it to the laundry room. Ms. Gable’s scathing diatribe on proper workplace etiquette and attire replayed itself on a loop in my mind.
How was I supposed to know that her idea of an acceptable pair of jeans was one loose enough to fit me and an entire petting zoo of animals? I gritted my teeth together as I pulled open the cabinet door above the washing machine. Seriously, it wasn’t my fault that I was the only employee under the age of sixty in my department at the historical society. I scoffed at the memory of Ms. Gable tacitly telling me I’d been hired to bring a youth perspective to the society. We mutually hated one another since day one.
A groan escaped my lips as I lifted an empty detergent bottle from the cabinet. I really needed to convince Lindsey to start bringing her own supplies to her weekly laundry day at my place. The frustration I was feeling toward my 1,000-year-old boss was forgotten in favor of frustration at my absent-minded best friend.
My fingers tapped out a short to text to Lindsey as I wandered back to my bedroom to get ready to face my day. “You owe me laundry detergent. Meet me at Target in Mt. Pleasant in 20 minutes,” it read.
I tossed the phone on my bed and headed toward the closet for the second time. If I knew anything about my best friend, it was that she wouldn’t see the text for several hours. She was terrible about sleeping through her 8:00 A.M. class and was only slightly likely to pull herself out of bed in time to make it to her 12:25 PM lecture. I would definitely be making the Target run solo, and just maybe I would buy a new lock to keep her mooching ass out of my apartment.
Detergent. Conditioner. Strawberries. Hangers. Distilled water for Ferdinand. Felt tip pens (in technicolor!). At least five things from the dollar section that I absolutely do not need.
I compiled my shopping list in my mind as I readied myself for the day. I was on my knees digging a pair of well-loved, white Converse from under my bed when the chime of my text tone rang through my silent bedroom. I was beyond shocked that Lindsey texted me back so quickly.
My surprise was unfounded. The text was from Nate rather than Lindsey.
Today 9:23 AM
I assume you have the day off
from work. Waffles and
mimosas?
I don’t know… I have a full
day of laundry and Target
ahead of me. I’m not sure that
I could possibly spare any
time for carbs and booze.
Charlotte Richmond.
There is ALWAYS time for
carbs and booze!!! (Also, how
dare you plan a trip to Tarzhay
without your adorably gay
neighbor/BBFL?! Shame!)
I literally don’t even know
where to start with you.
Carbs & booze & Target,
bitch!
When and where for
waffles and mimosas?
Waffles and mimosas at my
place & then we can make
our pilgrimage to the
promised land. Your girl
needs some more Baby Feet
like… YESTERDAY.
Be there in five.
— D —
Of all the places I expected my life to lead me, a Target store at 10:30 A.M. on a Monday certainly wasn’t it. As a native Minnesotan, I definitely preferred the retail giant over many of its competitors, but there was something about picking out towels with two other dudes that was just really uncomfortable (especially when the sales associate giggled as she walked away after asking if we needed any help). I didn’t do myself any favors, either, when one of the first aisles I visited was one to grab a decidedly out-of-season “autumn harvest” candle for my room. I reasoned that it reminded me of Sunday dinners at my grandparents’ house, but that didn’t stop the “Devon’s a basic white girl” jokes. If Cam suggested I try on yoga pants one more time, he was gonna be shitting an autumn harvest for weeks.
I’d just decided on a heather gray set of towels when a familiar voice had me turning to face the main aisle. “No, fuck you, Nate! I don’t care what your mom wants, I’m not having a kid at the age of 25!”
Sean’s attention was grabbed just as easily as mine at the odd statement, and he moved toward the end of the aisle. Charlie and the man I recognized from Vendue were passing by; and if she was surprised by a hulking man grabbing the end of her cart to stop it, she hid it well. I studied her as her face lit up and she began to introduce Sean to her apparent best friend. She wore tight jeans like a second layer of skin and a purple v-neck with a deep plunge. I found myself trying hard not to stare as Cam and I encroached on the conversation.
Our assistant captain turned and pointed toward us. “Charlie, you already know the guys. Nate, this is my roommate Cam; we’ve been on the team together for about five years now. And Devon just got signed with us and was lucky enough to get the third bedroom in our place.”
“Oh, congratulations!” Charlie’s friend exclaimed with a flamboyant flourish of his arms. I wasn’t one to make assumptions about people I’d just met, but I was about 98% sure that man had some sugar in the tank.
“On which part?” I asked as Charlie regarded me with guarded eyes.
“On signing to the team and being shacked up with these two fine specimens,” Nate responded, and I chuckled at the leer he threw Cam and Sean’s way.
“Oh my god, Nate!” Charlie exclaimed, a blush coloring her cheeks an odd mixture of purple, yellow, and now pink. I laughed along with Cam and Sean as she shook her head at her friend. “I’m so sorry for his behavior! I swear he has manners in there somewhere!”
“Don’t apologize,” Sean said while snickering at her friend’s words.
A smile lit her face, and I couldn’t miss the grin that spread across Sean’s face as he looked down at her. His eyes slowly traveled down and back up her body before locking in on her tits. The material strained against her cleavage, and I forced myself to look away. Nate cocked an eyebrow in my direction, and I felt myself starting to blush.
I couldn’t continue to stand there and watch Sean and Charlie chat animatedly. I felt slighted, it felt wrong, and I was a little pissed off. Clearing my throat, I grabbed the cart and indicated toward its contents. “I’m going to finish my shopping while you guys talk. I’ll catch you at Starbucks when I’m done.”
— C —
Sean’s eyes lit up at Devon’s mention of Starbucks, and he smiled widely at me. “Do you want to grab a coffee and talk so Devon has enough time to fulfill his fantasy of time to be a stay-at-home mom of three?”
I laughed and shook my head before glancing down at my overflowing shopping cart. The majority of the products in it belonged to Nate, and I really did need shampoo and conditioner if I hoped to present the image of rational, responsible adulthood in the workplace that week. “Oh, I’m not sure—I’ve still got my own shopping to do.”
Nate jabbed me in the back with his elbow, and I glared in his direction. The traitor stared pointedly at Sean. “Don’t worry about it, Charlie,” he said as he plucked my shopping list from my slackened fist, “I can finish up your shopping. I’ll even take Cam with me so y’all can have some privacy.”
Breakaway: A Hockey Romance Page 5