It made no sense to him, which was probably why he had such a difficult time believing it. Now? After he was finally giving her everything she wanted? He couldn’t wrap his head around the thought of Jenna cheating on him. She wasn’t that type of girl.... Well, at least he had thought so. Maybe he didn’t know her so well after all.
That thought irritated him like a thorn stuck in his bear claw; it was festering and bothering him. He did know Jenna. Sure, sometimes he was a ditz, as Jenna liked to call him during his airhead moments, and forgot something important, or did something that she wasn’t too happy about. Like that one year he forgot her birthday. That was an accident, and it didn’t mean that he didn’t love her; it just meant that he needed to write shit like that down because he simply could not remember. And it wasn’t like he only forgot hers—he forgot everyone’s birthdays. Even his mom’s. In fact, Jenna was the one who kept track of that kind of stuff and reminded him, so she should have known that he’d never remember in the first place!
But Ryan felt like he knew her as in her spirit or her soul. It wasn’t about just knowing her birthstone (garnet) or favorite color (green) or the name of her first dog (Sparky). It was about knowing her attitude and morals and philosophy on life. And Jenna was a good person—in fact, the best he knew. Which was why this whole thing seemed so out of character for her, and why Ryan was so damned confused about it.
He’d gone straight home after leaving the Art Institute, but that had turned out to be a mistake. The place reeked of Jenna; it had her touches everywhere. When Ryan had made the move to Chicago to play in the big leagues after college, he bought this house because he needed somewhere to live. But it wasn’t until he asked Jenna to move from her home state of New Hampshire to Illinois that this barren building finally began to feel less like a residence and more like his home. Their home. And it didn’t feel like anyone’s home now.
Jenna had decorated—she’d picked out the furniture and the rugs and arranged everything, and picked out the “accent pieces” as she called them and took pride in the presentation of their home. She had an aesthetic eye and that kind of stuff came so easily to her. Everything around him reminded him of her and the future they were supposed to share. They had built this home together, and now, it meant absolutely nothing.
As he paced the living room floor and tried to rationalize Jenna’s admission, Ryan grabbed the closest thing to him—which happened to be a glass candleholder—and launched it across the room. He watched as it shattered against the wall. Instead of feeling better, he felt nothing. He was suddenly empty and devoid of all emotion. Except for the lingering confusion.
How? Why?
Ryan wondered to himself if it were masochistic to want answers to those questions. Didn’t he deserve an answer? As badly as he wanted to know, he couldn’t bring himself to even think about asking them—that would mean he’d have to speak to Jenna. And he wasn’t ready to do that just yet. He couldn’t imagine talking to her calmly or even being in the same room with her, which is why he’d left her behind.
Leaving the shattered pieces as they lay, he hurried up the stairs into his bedroom. He grabbed his overnight bag, which he had just unpacked hours before, and began to fill it again. Under no circumstances could he stay in this place that was supposed to be his sanctuary. Nothing compared to coming home after being away for a game or two or more, but he didn’t get that “safe” feeling he was supposed to feel here. He couldn’t be in this building any longer, especially if Jenna showed up.
So Ryan packed his bag and left for a hotel. A rented room wasn’t going to feel like home either, but at least he was used to traveling and sleeping alone in strange beds. There was a normalcy and consistency in the routine of staying in hotels that his home couldn’t provide for him at a time like this.
Sunday was an off day for the team, and Monday was an optional practice. There was a five-day break between their games, which was either seen as a luxury or a curse, depending on which player was asked. Ryan usually would enjoy a long reprieve from the demands of the rink, but at that moment, he wished there were a practice for him to opt into attending. That way, there’d be something for him to focus on that wasn’t Jenna, and there’d be a reason to not wonder about what had gone wrong. Or rather, what he had done wrong. Wonder about what he had done that had suddenly made her do something so rash and uncharacteristic. Half of him knew that it wasn’t his fault, because he wasn’t the one who had cheated; but the other half thought that he had somehow pushed her into it—that he was supposed to be man enough for her so she’d never have to turn to another person. But, as it turned out, he hadn’t been enough for her.
He went on Monday to the optional practice, though, and a few of his teammates cast odd glances in his direction as he walked in. Ryan may have been the captain, but he didn’t always exude the leadership qualities that Shawn or Nick did—and no one was expecting him to show up for this practice. He tried his best to ignore those stares as he walked in a straight line to his stall to gear up.
Nick, of course, went to the optional skate that Monday. He went to every one, no matter what, which was just one of the many reasons he was a suitable alternate captain under Ryan Linsenbigler’s more lax authority. His direction, focus, and sense of responsibility were the driving factors of his success. But he was especially anxious for this practice. First, he wanted to see if he was progressing any further in his recovery from his concussion, and also see if he could start skating again so he could play in the upcoming game. The Blackhawks’ next game wasn’t until Thursday, when they played in Phoenix, so he hoped that he’d be okay by then. Second, he wanted to get out of his apartment and clear his head. He’d insisted that Jenna stay with him during this confusing and uncertain time, but it was emotionally draining for him to be around her.
Jenna had told him that she called him only because she didn’t know who else to turn to. After all, no one else could understand her predicament—and she sure as hell wasn’t about to tell anyone else what she had done. She was too ashamed for that. But she felt guilty for relying on him at this time. She didn’t love him like he wanted, and she felt like she was taking advantage of that by taking him up on his offer.
The worst feeling of all, for both Nick and Jenna, was that which stemmed from knowing that she had ended up coming to Nick even though she didn’t choose him. She wanted Ryan, and that’s why she had to come clean and tell him what she had done; there was no possible way for them to be together unless Ryan was keenly aware of the full situation. But once he found out, he couldn’t be around her. And, once again, when Jenna couldn’t depend on Ryan for emotional support, she turned to the one person who was always there: Nick.
And Nick very well knew that his qualities of reliability and responsibility were exactly what made him a great friend to Jenna and nothing more. Dependable and reliable were things that people looked for in cars or accountants or security systems. Because romance and love weren’t predictable and definite, and certainly not rational or explainable. Simply put, Jenna loved Ryan for all the reasons she couldn’t love Nick. He balanced her out in the areas she was lacking—she needed Ryan to feel complete and whole.
Nick did not expect to see Ryan at practice. Ryan was aloof and distant as he laced up his skates and slipped into his pads, completely ignoring the banter going on around him. Not that he would have wanted to hear what they were saying, anyway.
“Spence, dude, did you hear the rumor?” Shawn asked, reading something on his iPhone.
“No,” Mike responded suspiciously, quickly checking his own cell for a message. “I didn’t hear anything. Who’s texting you?” He felt left out.
“I just heard that Simpson is fucking Cooper’s wife!” Shawn said, talking about two players from Detroit.
“Jesus Christ, are you serious?” Mike asked. “How do you know that?”
“It’s running through the grapevine. Nothing’s confirmed yet, but who would make that up?”
&nb
sp; “Or it’s true, and she’s just another jersey chaser. But then again, who can blame her when her husband’s Cooper?” Shawn responded, laughing uproariously. Cooper was an agitator, and no other player on any other team liked or respected him.
“I don’t care, that’s still fucked up,” Mike added. “You just don’t do shit like that, ya know? Not to a teammate. I don’t care how pretty the chick is. I don’t care if her fucking pussy tastes like Dom Pérignon—you just don’t do shit like that.”
Nick reddened as he pulled his Under Armour over his head. He felt like he was being scolded. Nick knew very well that he shouldn’t have broken the code and backstabbed a teammate, but he also knew that hindsight was 20/20. What had felt so right in the moment back then was now plaguing him. When he and Jenna had made love, Nick had never expected this to be the outcome. When he thought about how he felt back then, when he first found himself falling for Jenna, he felt like they used to have so much potential. However, that potential had obviously since then shriveled up like a raisin. Maybe, under different circumstances, they could have had something great... but that wasn’t possible now.
“Oh, come on,” Shawn laughed, poking fun at his defense partner and directing the conversation in what was supposed to be a lighter direction. “We all see the way you look at Cara. Good thing Cav’s not here, or else he’d get suspicious.”
“Fuck you,” Mike laughed. “Besides we all know I prefer blondes. Like Jenna.”
Ryan’s head snapped up, and his eyes narrowed at Mike. He hadn’t been paying attention to what they were saying, but he heard her name. “What did you just say?”
“I said I like blondes, like Jenna,” Mike responded, answering exactly the question he had been asked but having no idea about what the consequences were going to be.
Ryan’s eyes flashed, giving everyone in the room little warning about what he was going to do. He pushed himself off the bench and balanced himself on the thin skate blades before launching himself at Mike and unleashing the dormant anger, which had been slumbering since Jenna’s confession days before. Ryan grabbed him by his jersey with his left hand and yanked the dark-haired defenseman toward him as he pulled back his right hand, balled tightly into a fist. He brought that fist forward, craving the feeling of his calloused knuckles connecting with bony jaw. He wanted it more than anything, like an unconscious desire that his mind couldn’t recognize. In fact, his mind was completely unaware of what his body was doing, until he never got that satisfying feeling of punching Mike’s lights out.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Nick hollered, placing himself in a precarious position between Ryan and Mike, trying to push them apart. Shawn likewise had grabbed Ryan from behind and pulled. Ryan was an even-tempered guy, and no one expected the captain to turn on a member of his team like that. Everyone had been taken by surprise.
“Dude, what is wrong with you?” Mike yelled, his ears turning pink as he flushed. “It was a joke. We were just joking around!”
Ryan tried to cast his interfering teammates away so he could finish his assault, but he was unable to do either. Instead, Nick forced them to separate and even went so far as to shove Ryan until they were in the trainer’s room. “Let go of me, Marty,” he ground out between his teeth, fire still smoldering in his eyes.
“You need to calm down,” he replied, closing the door and blocking the only exit.
“But he said—”
“I know what you’re upset about,” Nick said, the words leaving his mouth before he could properly think about what he was saying.
“You know?” he asked, flabbergasted. When Nick nodded, Ryan continued, “Jenna told you? You knew, and you didn’t tell me? What kind of a friend are you?”
“A horrible friend,” he sighed, shaking his head. “But she loves you, Biggie. More than anything.”
“Don’t fucking say that,” he spat, pissed off beyond belief. “She cheated, and you knew. She went to you, she told you, and she left me out to dry. You’re just as fucking bad as she is.”
“I am,” Nick admitted, knowing he was just as bad. Just as guilty. It was time to come clean. “It was me.”
Ryan didn’t immediately understand what Nick meant. He knew what he said, but it didn’t really fit in the context of the conversation. Slowly, piece-by-piece and bit-by-bit, the epiphany came to him. “What? You? How could.... Why?” Then it hit him like a ton of bricks. “I let you into my home!” he roared, grabbing the closest thing to him and whipping it at Nick’s head.
He ducked and avoided the jar of rub. “We didn’t mean for it to happen, Biggie. And she’s really torn up about it. She’s sorry she hurt you, and she wishes that it never happened.”
When Ryan heard that, he let out a feral, furious growl. If Nick knew she was penitent, then that meant that Nick had seen her since their blowout on Saturday. How could Jenna possibly be remorseful if she had turned straight back to the man she had cheated with? “You asshole!”
“Just calm down—”
“Stop telling me that! I will not calm down! How could you? She’s my wife! She was supposed to be my wife,” he said, correcting himself. Either way, with a certificate or not, Ryan felt like they were married. “And you’re my teammate, and I’m your captain!”
“I know, I’m sorry! I told you, it just happened!” Nick repeated, having to dodge another projectile.
“You stupid fucker! Things like that don’t just happen unless you let them happen!”
“Yes, they do! It did! Neither of us meant to do anything to hurt or spite you. I’m telling you—it just... happened.” He was being truthful; even though he had fallen in love with her, Nick had purposely kept his distance to avoid this very situation. It didn’t seem fair that Ryan’s relationship and the team’s chemistry and sense of fraternity had to be in direct opposition to Nick’s happiness—not when he dedicated everything he had to his team. Somehow, there had to be a way to achieve all three.
“How?” Ryan demanded. His head was swimming, and his thoughts were swirling. Nick was supposed to be his friend, and Jenna was supposed to be his girl. They were supposed to be the two people in this world who he could rely on for support—he never would have suspected they’d do something like this to hurt him. Ryan felt betrayed by the two people that he trusted most, by the two people that he should have been able to depend on more than anyone else.
But worst of all, Ryan had actively encouraged the friendship between the two of them. He had liked that the two of them had each other for company during the team events and hangouts since they didn’t fit in with the other guys, and he let them spend time together, and thereby inadvertently fostered and facilitated their affair. Ryan felt like such a fool, and a wave of nausea hit him again. “How the fuck could that just happen?”
“You weren’t there for her!” Nick didn’t mean to raise his voice, but he did so instinctively.
“Don’t give me that. We travel all the time. I can’t help it, and she knows that. She knew that that’s what it was going to be like when I went pro. And it wasn’t a problem before.” He paused. “Fucking shit, you travel with the team, too! It’s a crock of shit.”
“Not physically be there. Not having to be around her all the time. Biggie, she needed you to listen and talk to her. She wanted you to show an interest in her interests. Show an interest in her world, instead of making things all about you,” Nick explained, remembering that fight that they didn’t know he overheard. “Instead you went out with Freeze and didn’t help with the wedding or make it seem like you care about it—or her—at all.”
“Jenna knows I love her. Loved her. Whatever.” Ryan ran a hand through his hair again before rubbing his forehead. It would have been easier on him if he could just shut off his heart and stop loving her, because that would stop the ache in the center of his chest. Unfortunately, he couldn’t, and it didn’t.
“Does she?” Nick asked. Now was not a great time to be offering advice or sage wisdom, but it was as good of a time a
s it was ever going to get. “It’s not enough to simply tell someone you love them. You have to show them.”
“Like you’re such a fucking expert on love, Marty,” he retorted, still angry as ever. “That’s why you had to fuck someone’s girlfriend instead of getting your own! Well, you know what? You can have her!”
“She doesn’t want me, Biggie,” Nick sadly replied. It had been the realization that he had known for days, but that notion was solidified when he said it out loud. It made it real. “She wants you.”
“Then she should have thought of that before she spread her legs for you.” With those last words, he shoved Nick to the side and stormed through the door. Ryan quickly shed his gear and skates, dressing back into his street clothes. He had thought that being on the ice would get his mind off his predicament, but that wasn’t an option anymore. Not when he could place a name and a face to the person who had wrecked his relationship, his life, his love.
Chapter 21
After Ryan had stormed out of the dressing room, the players in attendance all turned to Nick to take their cues from him. Their captain was MIA, and they needed someone to look to for guidance. They hadn’t heard exactly what was said; they only knew that whatever words had been exchanged had been yelled. Unfortunately for them, but very fortunately for both Nick and Ryan, the thick walls of the trainer’s room had dampened the shouts so their words were indiscernible.
Play the Man Page 19