The Crease: A Rochester Riot Sports Romance

by Colleen Charles

  Not until Mark lay on the floor of the converted barn like a blood covered lump did Adam stop and take some breaths. Great heaving breaths that took over his entire body. And soul. He was done. Done with the whore who couldn’t keep her legs shut. Done with his brother.

  No.

  Not his brother anymore.

  Never.

  “I’m leaving,” he spat as he turned on his heel and started towards the door. “You’re both dead to me.”

  Adam stomped toward his silver Dodge Ram, leaving the barn door agape. One last reminder of what he’d left inside. What he’d just lost. He climbed in, slammed the door and turned the key hard before yanking the gear shift into reverse and hitting the gas pedal, sending the extended cab in a spin. As he deliberately pumped the brakes, he shifted into drive and left a spray of gravel hurtling toward Heather’s white Mercedes. But the action of marring the perfect paint on the luxury car still left him cold.

  Once on the paved road, Adam punched it, hell bent on reaching his house as fast as he could get there. Something. He needed some kind of comfort. Like Jack Daniels or Johnny Walker.

  Or maybe John Deere.

  He’d always been able to turn off the demons doing chores in the barn. Something about the smell of the hay and the feel of his muscles rippling underneath his shirt when he engaged in any kind of hard physical labor. Yeah, that was it. He’d take out the tractor or work on some fence repair. Except it was dusk and night would fall before he got back to the farm.

  Nausea bubbled up from his gut and crawled up the back of his throat when an image of Heather invaded his brain. Heather with her svelte shape, lush lips and long, platinum hair that felt like spun silk in his hands. Heather, holding his hand tightly during the ambulance ride from the arena. Her ocean blue eyes glistening with unshed tears as she tried to be strong at the hospital.

  “I love you so much, Adam. No matter what this is, we’ll face it head on. Together.”

  The biggest crock of bullshit in the history of the free world.

  He was a complete moron.

  Adam pursed his lips and slammed a fist down on the leather steering wheel. Never again would he be taken in by a woman. Gold diggers, whores and dishonest pieces of shit.

  A ringing and vibrating in his jeans pocket pulled him back to reality. And torment.

  It was her.

  Not fucking likely, bitch. Dead to me. Pretty sure I was crystal clear on that front. Now I can add ignorant to your glowing list of attributes.

  Adam touched the ignore button and continued on down the highway, turning on the radio so he could blare Jason Aldean at ten decibels. As he pulled onto the familiar gravel road, memories of his folks danced across his consciousness. His mom standing on the front porch, hands on her ample hips, telling everyone to come on up for fried chicken and cornbread. His dad in the cab of the combine, with thin lips moving as he argued about the price of pork bellies with local talk radio. Now, the house loomed before him. Empty. Laughter, joy, and family had floated away like confetti on a light breeze.

  The atmosphere was stagnant. The only sounds permeating the country air were the footfalls of his boots as they hit the rickety stairs. The heavy cedar door creaked when he turned the knob that opened the two-story farmhouse. He stood in the entrance, overwhelmed by memories that attacked from every photo, knick-knack, and antique. Then, he saw it. Heather’s dancing eyes burned through to his soul from their engagement picture taken on the porch swing. In the place of honor above the fireplace. The same place where his family photo had once been.

  Adam ripped it off the wall and gripped it tightly until he could reach the front door again. He opened the door and flung it out onto the front lawn. He’d deal with disposal tomorrow. Right now, he couldn’t stand the sight of her. Couldn’t even stand knowing any image of her was in his home. The attic. He knew there was a lovely photo of his folks from their thirtieth wedding anniversary up there. He’d find it and bring it down tomorrow. She’d be replaced.

  First, he’d get drunk until he couldn’t see. Couldn’t hear.

  Couldn’t feel.

  Adam turned and rummaged around in the fridge for some beer. No. Not strong enough. This was a whiskey night. Straight whiskey. Burning down the back of his throat, shot after shot.

  As he grabbed a glass tumbler from the cabinet and a bottle of Jim Beam, he thought back to the last time he talked to her. It had been hard keeping the surprise a secret. The surprise that he was coming home early just to spend quality time with her.

  Surprise!

  Adam rubbed his face, attempting to rid himself of the nightmare looping in his head. Splashing some of the dark amber liquor into his glass, he threw it down the back of his throat, welcoming the sting. Soon, he wouldn’t feel anything anymore. It would probably take half the bottle and a few hours, but he’d drink her off his mind just like a bad country song.

  Adam teetered slightly as he clutched the bottle in one hand and the glass in the other. He put his stocking clad foot on the first step leading to the second floor. Her shit. It needed to get the hell out of his house. Now. She’d never see it again. Unless she happened to drive by like the pathetic stalker she was, and see it littering the yard and trees.

  It felt good to open the window and allow the kiss of the fresh air to caress his booze fevered skin as he flung everything she’d ever left here out onto the grass. No, it didn’t feel good. It felt fucking phenomenal. He started to drift again when he splashed some whiskey on a pair of her black, lace panties. The same ones he’d pulled down her body with his teeth in an anxious rush to taste her. To possess her.

  “Adam, your ACL is healing, but at a much slower rate than what we were hoping for.”

  “So, what’s next... more rehab, medical steroids...”

  “I’m sorry, there’s nothing more we can do. I can’t clear you to play. I’m afraid this is a career ending injury for you. I’m really sorry, Adam. I know that’s not what you wanted to hear, but I have to be honest.”

  “What are you saying? I’m not understanding?”

  He’d stopped listening after he’d heard the word ‘can’t’. No fucking way he wasn’t playing hockey this year. Goddamn it! Come hell or high water. Whatever it took. He’d play again. Hockey was his life. His breath.

  His soul.

  “Adam, if you were to fall the wrong way or slightly twist your knee during the course of play, the damage would be far too extensive to repair. Adam, this is no longer about hockey. It’s about walking. It’s about being able to have a normal life outside of sports.”

  Adam ripped himself away from the mental torture as he threw a red Michael Kors dress into the towering oak tree with large branches flush with the house. The same one he and Mark had used to escape curfew as high school hooligans.

  Hell, he’d been the star of the high school hockey team and Mark had been his adoring younger brother. Dad hadn’t been too hard on them as long as they kept their boyish antics away from the destructive or the criminal. Getting a little drunk and ripping it up with their group of friends.

  And Heather.

  Tumbling her in the hayloft or the bed of his truck down by the creek as they listened to the soft sounds of the trickling water over the rocks.

  Adam shook his head and poured some more whiskey into the cut crystal. His mom’s favorite. The numbness. Blessed, but it was taking too damn long tonight.

  What was that annoying tingling in his pants? Yeah, that was it. A couple of douchebags calling. He tore the phone out of his jeans and flung it out the window too. He’d deal with it tomorrow.

  Tomorrow.

  That’s when he’d deal with everything.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  Blue.

  Blue was with Jeff. Damn. Never was there a time in his life when he needed his yellow lab more than this moment.

  Blue, I need you, buddy. Daddy’s coming.

  Jeff lived on the neighboring farm and had been Adam’s best friend since
first grade so it wouldn’t matter if he drove a little tipsy from the mailbox to the driveway. Hell, it was only about fifty yards on the blacktop.

  Adam guided the Dodge onto the county road and hoped Jeff was at home. Otherwise, he’d have to steal his own damn dog. It was so dark outside, he hadn’t been able to see well enough to retrieve the iPhone he’d flung to the lawn in his last snit of rage. Pictures of Mark’s bare ass as he pounded into Heather, her blue eyes alight with passion gripped his brain. Except, now, there were two of her. Adam rubbed his eyes, he never should have gotten behind the wheel because the four shots of Beam had finally reached his veins to numb his overloaded senses.

  A red light pierced through the fog. A semi full of corn was in his lane, heading straight for him. Or was Adam in his lane? The trucker laid on the horn and hit the brakes so hard it jackknifed his overladen vehicle. Ears of corn exploded into the air, raining down on his windshield.

  Blinding him.

  What the hell was happening? Sounds of crunching metal and shattering glass filled the air and ripped off the trees. Then, as if someone had turned off the lights, the air stood still and his world faded to black.

  Chapter 2

  “I hate you. I want a divorce. You are no longer my best friend, SueAnn Johnson. I mean, what kind of BFF sets her so called bestie up on a blind date with someone she’s never met!”

  Julia Wales stomped out of the bathroom and yanked the hand towel from the hook by the door, swiping the water from her porcelain skin. The towel skimmed her sooty eyelashes, soaking the last remnants of the hot shower she’d just enjoyed. More like relished. The warm water caressing her smooth skin always made her feel better. More in control.

  Julia flopped down on the edge of the pillow top mattress, scrunching her long, auburn hair with the towel. The puff of her breath expelled from her mouth as she flung the phone beside her and hit the button for the speaker.

  “That’s why it’s called a blind date, plus you need to get out more and Andrew is a nice guy. Who knows, you just might hit it off,” Sue’s voice echoed through the speakers.

  “I don’t even have anything to wear,” she grumbled, looking at her collection of clothes hanging in the closet.

  A knock rattled Julia’s door almost as if on cue. She stood and grabbed her robe as she walked to the door of her suite. Once again, Sue’s voice came bellowing through the speakers.

  “That’s why I had the perfect ensemble delivered to your room.”

  Julia opened the door to find the bellman holding a white and gold foil box tied with a pale pink silk ribbon. She balanced the boxes on her forearms as she handed him a ten before closing the door with her bare foot. She laid the boxes on the bed and untied the largest one. She’d been enjoying the service of the Hotel Calpurnia while her house got new plumbing installed. It would be done Friday, and she almost hated to leave her luxurious quasi-home.

  “Now, you have no more excuses. So get dressed. I love you. Bye.”

  Sue hung up before Julia could open her mouth to protest. Not that she really wanted to. She was bored. She had to face it, that she’d been overwhelmed and overcome with work for months. Not that she was complaining. She loved her work with a passion. Creative pursuits were her life and always had been. They got the blood pulsing through her veins and hours could go by without eating or even going to the bathroom when she was consumed by a job.

  Julia gasped in pleased surprise and held the sexy top up to her ample chest. It was light blue layers of delicate lace cascading down from the spaghetti straps. A thin, black leather belt accentuated her waist. A pair of silky black pants and strappy blue high-heeled sandals completed the look. Expensive. Julia wondered how much Sue had forked out to make her look presentable for her date with the elusive Andrew.

  She didn’t like being beholden to her friend. To anyone really, but it would be rude not to accept and enjoy Sue’s gift. Especially on such short notice. Unless she wanted to traipse through the Calpurnia’s lobby wearing the hotel’s white terry bathrobe.

  Julia chuckled to herself at the mortified look the front desk clerk of the exclusive hotel would have over that one. She trotted back into the bathroom to complete her makeup and hair, settling for a subtle look with soft colors and a half-up and half-down style that showcased her high cheekbones and vibrant brown eyes.

  After donning her new outfit, she stood back and admired the effect in the full-length mirror. Sue had outdone herself because the baby blue color really did bring out the red in her auburn hair.

  When she was satisfied she’d pass muster, even for a man she’d never seen before, she called down for her car and grabbed her purse. They were meeting at Tavern on the Hill, which had her favorite food and ambiance. Score one for Andrew for his selection. Unless he’d been coached by Sue. Either way, he had great taste or he was a great listener.

  Tavern boasted Duluth’s largest outdoor dining and the temperate evening would be perfect to sit outside and enjoy the unseasonably warm weather. As well as the stellar view. Dusk was approaching and the waters of Lake Superior would be glistening in the soft glow of the approaching night sky.

  ***

  Maybe he won’t be here, she worried as she approached the hostess stand. Stood up like some kind of pathetic loser. Julia hated these damn first date jitters. Probably why she threw herself into work with a vengeance. Nothing like avoidance behavior to keep a woman safe from unwanted embarrassment. Of course, the same avoidance also kept a woman safe from everything else. All the deliciousness that came with a romantic relationship.

  Julia gave her head a firm shake and smiled at the young college student behind the podium. Andrew hadn’t yet arrived so Julia checked her phone and decided to wait in the bar.

  The Caribou were on the flat screen across the room, skating their pre-game warm-up. Julia loved hockey and had ever since she was twelve and her brother had played in high school. She used to lace up her white figure skates and try to emulate Blake as she wobbled around holding a stick larger than her head. The Minnesota Caribou were her favorite team and some of the Duluth college players and other locals had made the professional team throughout the years.

  Over time, she’d become too busy with her work to follow them like a true fan. She did know they had a superstar drafted out of Michigan State named Adam Spencer. The guy was so fast they said he was like lightning in a bottle.

  She’d have to pay close attention until Andrew arrived to see if she could get a gander at the spectacular play of Mr. Spencer, a Duluth native who’d played varsity hockey with her brother. She’d met him once at her house and he’d left an impression. That guy was dreamy with a capital “D”.

  The hostess returned a few minutes later, directing a blond haired cutie to her table in the bar. Around six feet tall, his hair was spiked up in the front and his blue button down complimented his eyes. Jeans and loafers completed his date look.

  My God, we match.

  Julia couldn’t keep herself from going there and wondered if Sue had coached him on what she’d be wearing as well. Jesus, could it all get any more obvious? He offered a smile as he took his seat across from her and ordered a local draft beer on tap from the waitress hovering at his elbow.

  “Hi there, I’m Andrew,” he said, extending his massive hand across the table.

  “Julia.” She smiled as she shook his hand, which was warm and inviting with just the right amount of pressure. Maybe there was hope.

  “Wow, Sue said you were a knockout. She wasn’t kidding.” Andrew’s compliment was followed by a low whistle.

  “Oh, thank you.” Julia blushed from the roots of her hair to the tips of her red polished toes. She had heard it before, but growing up with brothers, she had been more likely to get teased and tormented about every little thing than to get any validation of her looks. Blake had loved to call her elephant ears and Brock had called her Pigeon due to her slightly inward toes. Thank God she’d outgrown that one before high school.


  “So, I hear from SueAnn you’ve lived here in Duluth your entire life,” Andrew commented. “I really like it here so far. The people are really warm and welcoming.”

  “Totally. That’s why I started my business here. I’d never dream of leaving.” It was hard to keep the passion out of her voice over her hometown and she didn’t even want to try. Duluth, Minnesota was a wonderful place to live and work. Her only complaint was the harsh winters and the cold wind and weather that blew in straight off the lake.

  Julia was glad that Andrew wasn’t firing questions at her like they were in some kind of crazy job interview. Dating had always sucked for her. If it wasn’t her own broken picker, it was her beefy and controlling older brothers jumping in to scare the shit out of any potential suitor who held real promise. They’d find something wrong with the guy and he’d bail. But now … Blake and Brock were married and starting their own families, so they’d backed off. A little. She probably used her family as an excuse, but her friends knew that her fledgling business was her life.

  “So, Sue said that you’re a major hockey fan.”

  “Yeah, I grew up in a small town and hockey was nearly the only entertainment we had. My brother, Blake Wales, played for UMD. He was a really great center and would have been drafted until he hurt his knee,” Julia sighed. “Career ending injury.”

  “That sucks,” Andrew nodded. “Do you like any other sports or are you just a die-hard hockey chick?”

  “Just hockey. I never got any of the other sports. Hockey just makes sense to me. And it’s such a rush to be outside in the winter air. You feel so free and alive.”

  Andrew rubbed his chin and started droning on about the Vikings. After a while, Julia tuned him out and glanced at the game behind his head. The Caribou were getting murdered. They only had ten shots on goal to the Red Wings twenty-five and they were losing the battle in the corners.

  Oh, Adam, where are you? Your team needs you, she thought as she bit into her mozzarella stick dripping in marinara.