“I brought you a change of clothes,” Seraphina said the minute Clara slid into the passenger seat, “since we’re practically the same size. Did you need anything else?”
“You are a lifesaver,” Clara said, taking the clothes. She was glad it had gotten cloudy and she hoped as Seraphina slowly drove down the residential street, no one would notice as she pulled on an old Jackass t-shirt and skinny jeans. “Although... Johnny Knoxville?”
Seraphina shrugged, her lips tugging up into a grin. “What can I say?” she said. “I had a thing for bad boys.”
“Had?” Clara snorted, pulling on her seatbelt. “Aren’t you dating Brandon Thorpe? You know he’s the quintessential NHL bad boy, except he hadn’t actually been charged with a crime.”
“My dating life is no one’s concern,” Seraphina said, but she was smiling. “So, not to pry, but is everything okay? I’m sure you could have had your mom come down here, or a friend.”
Clara looked down at her hands buried tightly between her thighs. “Honestly, Seraphina, without being weird about it, you’re the closest friend I have,” she admitted. “Dean and I dated the summer before my sophomore year of college. Once we broke up, I kept to myself. Obviously, I had friends at school but they were my school friends, no one I saw outside of school. And I started working after I graduated. Being a PI is a lonely profession. I only met Bill because Graham Winsor hired me for a case. Anyway, to make an already too-long story short, you were the first person I thought of, the first person I called.”
Seraphina reached out and placed her hand on Clara’s forearm. Clara’s mouth dropped open and she looked at Seraphina.
“I’m glad,” she said. “I’m here for you, Clara.”
Clara felt her lips turn up as Seraphina returned her hand to the steering wheel. She looked down at her lap, pressing her palms flat on her thighs.
The drive was relatively silent, save for the latest Taylor Swift CD coming from the speakers. Seraphina whisper-sang the songs, moving her shoulders and bobbing her head to the beat. Clara felt her smile widen. This was normal. It felt good to be around a successful, inspirational woman who also had gone through her share of hardship and managed to come out happy and unjaded - she wasn’t concerned about what Clara thought of her singing and she trusted Brandon Thorpe enough to let him in. And Seraphina had been through much more than just a slap on the face. Not to downplay what Clara had gone through, but Seraphina’s journey gave Clara hope.
Thanks to Clara’s directions, Seraphina got them there in ten minutes. It helped that it was a Monday morning - just after eleven o’clock - so the roads weren’t filled with commuters trying to get to important lunch meetings.
“Want me to stay?” Seraphina asked, glancing up at the tall apartment complex. “I can help you move things.”
“I really appreciate that,” Clara said, turning to look over at Seraphina. “I have my car, and I don’t plan to get tons of stuff. I just want a nice change of clothes - besides the jeans and the shirt you got me. Which I will get back to you as soon as possible. Plus, this is probably a crazy time for you right now. There’s no need to waste another moment on me when you have other things you could be worrying about.”
“It’s not a waste,” Seraphina gently corrected. “Not when we’re friends.” She nestled further into the cracked leather of the seat. “Call me when you’re on the way to Dean’s place so I know you’re good.”
Clara nodded. There was a slight feeling of guilt - perhaps she should tell Seraphina what happened with Bill. But if she did that, then Seraphina would stay. Seraphina would concern herself with Clara instead of focusing on her hockey team. On the fact that not only did they make the playoffs for the first time, they were battling for the Stanley Cup.
Clara headed into the building. Seraphina didn’t take off until Clara was inside. The sight made Clara feel warm inside. It felt nice to be protected. It made her feel worthy.
She reached into her pocket, making sure her phone hadn’t slipped out. She also found her keys. It probably would have been easier if she had just taken her car instead of riding with Dean, but after what happened, Clara didn’t want to be on her own and she highly doubted Dean would let her be anyway.
The elevator ride up felt longer than it should have. Once she emerged from the steel doors, she took a step in time with her heartbeat. When she finally reached her door, she pulled out her keys. They wouldn’t stop clinging together. She was nervous, she realized. She was worried Bill would be home and –
And what?
Did she really think Bill was going to do something like that again? Her face stung even though no one had touched it in hours. It was as though her face recalled what had happened and wanted to warn Clara that there was a chance of it happening again.
Clara unlocked the door and went in. In all honesty, Clara didn’t know what to expect from Bill - and that was what scared her the most. She did not know if he would fly into a rage and do something worse than what he had already done, or if he would deflate, the realization of what he had done shocking him into wariness.
The apartment was still, but that didn’t mean Bill wasn’t there.
“Bill?” she called as she shut the door behind her. “I’m going to grab a few things.”
Nothing.
Her heart still pounded but after a quick check to make sure he wasn’t in the shower - he was not - Clara began to rush to get everything she wanted together so she could get out of here as fast as she could. She didn’t know if Dean would still be sleeping or not, but now that she had her wallet, she would be able to pick up a couple of burgers and shakes from Wedge Burger on Seventeenth Street in hopes of alleviating any frustration he might feel over her coming here alone.
The first place she hit up was the closet. She pulled different clothes from their hangers and threw them on her bed. Jeans, slacks, yoga pants were next, followed by shoes. She stuffed everything she could into a durable black garbage bag before grabbing a second one and starting on the shoes.
Next, she emptied the bathroom and grabbed her laptop, left untouched in its case. Thank God.
When she was finished, she stepped back. There was at least two runs to her car, probably three. She glanced at the door, held her breath.
Nothing.
She grabbed the bags first and managed to stuff them into her trunk before deciding to dash up the stairs rather than the elevator. She rushed the second load too.
Almost done.
All that was left was her laptop case and her chargers.
Clara swung it across her chest and turned to go, just as the door opened and Bill walked in.
“Clara?” he asked, confused. “What are you doing?”
Chapter 16
When Dean woke up, he was alone. He immediately felt a gaping hole, a coldness where none had been before.
He missed her and he had just been holding her. This was ridiculous. He wasn’t the sort of person to get so wound up around one person when he missed them.
But Clara was different.
He hoped she was just downstairs. Where else could she have gone? She didn’t have her car. Granted, she could have borrowed his car and it wouldn’t have been an issue. He wouldn’t have cared. But it would be nice to know where she went off to, when she was planning on coming back.
He ran his fingers through his hair before hopping out of bed and pulling on his sweatpants. A quick glance at his phone told him it was just after three o’clock. That sounded about right. He would have a few hours to do low-intensity workouts, have a healthy dinner, maybe watch a couple of hours of television before turning in early and trying to get a good night’s sleep before waking up early and getting ready for the game.
But his mind was on Clara. He was silent for a moment, but it didn’t sound as though she was in the shower. He would hope that if she was going to shower, she would invite him to shower as well.
He padded down the staircase, his head going left and right. Nothing
tickled his nose. Not that Clara gave him the impression that she would ever cook - because he knew from personal experience that she was not the sort of woman to cook - but he didn’t know if that had changed in the nine years they hadn’t seen each other.
Dean walked into the kitchen.
Empty.
There was a note hanging on his refrigerator with a magnet saying ‘Be right back. C.’
That explained nothing.
He called her but it was sent to voicemail. His heart skipped a beat and he roused from his post-nap haze. If his call was being sent to voicemail that could mean one of two things: it died and she completely forgot to charge it, which was plausible; or she was purposefully sending it there.
Why would she do that?
He crossed his arms over his chest, heading back up the stairs. He planned to put on more clothes and brush his teeth. Maybe he should actually shower and take some time to ready himself for when she came back.
She would come back. Wouldn’t she?
He shouldn’t care - but he did. He wanted her to come back. Maybe it was sudden, his asking her to move in, and the last thing he wanted to make her feel was discomfort. But he did want her to know that she was always welcome at his place, even if she needed time to get back on her feet.
Dean shook his head. Let him shower. Maybe by that point she’d be back.
The problem was, Dean took quick showers. Ten minutes tops - and then he was done. Ready to get out. He had never been one for bathing, for washing, even as a kid. Now, he didn’t mind it because there was a reason for it, but he still didn’t stick around for a while if he could help it.
After stepping out and drying off, he got dressed, brushed his teeth, and slicked his hair back using only the water. He checked his phone but saw no change. No call from Clara. No text. A quick call to her phone and it went right to voicemail.
How the hell did she leave? That was what Dean wanted to know. His feet led him to his garage but found all three vehicles still parked. He continued to frown, his hands on his hips. Now what?
Suddenly, his phone chimed. He practically ripped it out of his pocket and brought it up to read the text, but found it was only from Seraphina Hanson rather than Clara. He couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed and then found himself feeling guilty for being disappointed. Seraphina was one hell of a GM and he was lucky to have her as a boss.
‘How’s Clara? I tried calling but it’s going straight to voicemail.’
Dean frowned. He began to pace up and down his living room, his thumb hovering on the call button. Why would Seraphina ask about Clara - unless Clara called her. Unless Seraphina was Clara’s ride to... where? If Seraphina was Clara’s ride, why did Seraphina leave her?
Unless...
Unless...
Dean felt his thoughts churning and spinning. He shoved his phone in his pocket and grabbed his keys. Clara was at her old place. She planned to come back to Dean’s place judging from the note still on his refrigerator. Clara could have called Seraphina to take her over to her old place. Her car was there and there was no way Clara would have Seraphina stick around while she grabbed all of the things she wanted to take with her - at least, Dean assumed. If she was as stubborn now as she was then, he wouldn’t be surprised if Clara told her to leave. Dean knew Seraphina; Seraphina would have asked if she needed help. No, Clara sent Seraphina away.
Dean decided to drive the SUV. In case Clara needed help with her stuff, he wanted to be there to help her out. He didn’t want anything being left behind. He wanted her safe from Bill - completely this time.
He started the engine and clicked his garage door button. While he waited for the garage door to ascend, he shot Seraphina a quick message, telling her he was going to check on Clara now and that he’d call her later today with an update. From there, he pulled out of his driveway, closed his garage door, and was off.
His tapped his thumb against the wheel as he tried to drive as fast as he could without getting caught. It was a tricky thing since he wasn’t a fan of weaving in and out of cars, but he didn’t know how Bill would react to seeing Clara there - if Bill would even be there in the first place - and he wanted to ensure that Clara was safe.
‘Why couldn’t she have said anything?’
He tried not to let himself get caught up in the fact that Clara didn’t wake him up specifically to tell him where she was going. Granted, he knew she probably knew he wouldn’t react well. Maybe she figured she wanted to handle this on her own, like an independent woman.
He could respect that. He could.
But he wanted to be there to help. If she wanted him to be.
Dean squeezed the wheel tightly, trying not to grind his teeth. He knew without a doubt that Clara had no intention of going back to Bill. She had always respected herself too much to be with someone who would treat her like shit. He knew that. Even when they were together and his fiery temper caused a rift between them, she would stand up for herself. At the time, her stubbornness would grate on his nerves, but if they ever had a daughter -
No, too soon.
Too soon to think about starting a family.
They hadn’t even discussed being together again. Having sex a few times did not mean they were together. It meant...
He didn’t know what it meant. He would figure that out later. What he needed to focus on was Clara.
When he pulled up to her old place, Dean hesitated. Did she even need his help? He didn’t want to stroll in and make her feel incapable. Another part of him wanted to make sure she knew he was there for her, that she could count on him, that she could trust him to always have her back because he didn’t have it before and he regretted that now. He regretted that more than anything.
In the end, his journey had brought him back to her. They were together again - at least physically.
Dean parked his car next to the leasing office. If his car got towed, fuck it. He didn’t care. Using his memory, he headed inside and pressed the elevator button. A teenage boy ran up to him, excited about the fact that the Gulls were in the finals for the first time in their tenure and asked for a quick selfie. Dean obliged just as the elevator doors slid open. After thanking the kid, Dean stepped inside and rubbed his hands together, heaving a sigh.
He was nervous, but didn’t understand why he was nervous.
The elevator pinged when he reached her floor. He stepped out, pausing just to take another breath.
What if she didn’t need him? What if she didn’t want him? What if -
He shook his head.
‘Get your shit together, man,’ he snapped at himself.
He strode down the long hallway, his arms moving by his sides. He had no idea what to do with his hands. At first, he shoved them in his pockets but found that that didn’t work. Next, he tried his back pockets, then his hips, until he finally dropped his hands and let them fall altogether.
He saw her door. It was closed but he could hear voices coming from inside. He shouldn’t listen. It wasn’t his place. It wasn’t his business. But he needed to make sure she wasn’t upset.
“...fucking Dean Morgan!”
“What I do now is none of your business, Bill.” Clara’s snappy response didn’t surprise him in the least. She always got flippant when she was pissed off. She didn’t have to use her hands in order hurt someone. “We’re through.”
A pause. Dean couldn’t be sure but it almost sounded like one of them sighed. Quite possibly Bill. If it was one of frustration or one of relent, Dean couldn’t be sure.
“Look, Clara, I’m –”
“Please don’t tell me you’re apologizing.” Clara’s voice was flat. Dean recognized that voice. Clara had checked out. She was done. Dean himself had heard that voice on multiple occasions.
“I’m not trying to justify what I did.” A pause. A quiver in his voice. Dean felt something inside of him coil. He didn’t want to admit it but it almost sounded as though Bill was actually sincere. “What I did was...
deplorable. Inexcusable. Disgusting. I’m not saying a deserve a second chance. I’m not even asking for one. I just... I just want you to know that you don’t deserve that. I completely understand why you’re leaving, okay?”
“If you knew that, why fight? Why even bring Dean up? He has nothing to do with this.”
“He has everything to do with this!” Bill exclaimed.
Dean reached for the door, ready to break it down if he needed to. No one was allowed to talk to her that way.
“Don’t talk to me that way,” Clara snapped. Dean felt his lips quirk up. He dropped his hand and bit back a smirk. He shouldn’t have assumed Clara needed his help. She was handling this herself nicely. “Dean has nothing to do with this. I should have told you about him before. I take responsibility for that. But you? You should have believed me. You should have stayed with me in the parking lot. You shouldn’t have left me the way you did. But you did. And you should have told me you weren’t coming home. To this second, I haven’t pushed about where you went that night. I trust you. I’ve always trusted you. But clearly, you couldn’t give me that same respect.”
There was a pause. Dean expected Clara took a breath, something like that.
“I don’t need you to tell me how deplorable your behavior was, Bill. I know it. It’s why I’m so incredibly furious with you. I just - I just never expected this from you. I thought you were different, but you aren’t.”
“You’re fucking him, aren’t you?”
“That’s none of your business, Bill.”
“Just tell me. Just tell me, just be honest, and then we can go our separate ways. I just… I just want to know. I need to know.”
“I don’t have to - hey, let go of my arm! I’m not going to tell you anything.”
Dean didn’t wait any longer. Clara could certainly handle herself, but Bill couldn’t respect her enough not to touch her.
Brutal Love & Stanley Cups: A Slapshot Novel (Slapshot Series Book 7) Page 10