Page 79 of Shootout
Wild snorted. “You didn’t think I figured out the two of you were faking it? Jessie hates it when I try to control her. So, yeah, I knew, and I played my part just to needle both of you and force you together. My way of getting even.”
“You knew?” I sat back and tried to wrap my head around his confession. Wild was more devious than I’d ever given him credit for.
“Yeah, I did. I can read her like a book. Add to that, you having a serious relationship was completely out of character.”
“Thanks.” This jerk was full of compliments.
“I knew you were falling for her, and I was prepared to tolerate you as part of our family because you made her happy. I was pretty sure Jessie had fallen for you, too, and I do know my sister. I hadn’t considered Rick the Dick might come calling and muddy the waters. I never imagined, in my wildest dreams, he’d take a job in Seattle and offer her an assistant coaching position. Something’s fishy there. He doesn’t want her, but he doesn’t want anyone else to have her. Most likely, he saw the gala pics and saw his opening when Tyee hired him as their new head coach.”
“You think?”
“You forget I’ve known him for years. I’ve never really liked or trusted him, but I kept my mouth shut for Jessie.”
“I find it hard to believe you kept your mouth shut for anyone.”
“Hey, I can’t give you false hope by claiming she’ll be back. I don’t know. That job offer was a dream come true even if there’re strings attached, and Rick controls the strings.” Wild lifted one shoulder in a half shrug and doled out two more beers.
“I know. I wouldn’t hold her back from realizing her potential. Hockey is still a man’s world, and she has to seize any opportunities that come her way.” I was starting to slur my words.
Wild and I were quiet for the next several minutes as we mindlessly watched a hockey game on TV. I stared at the screen but didn’t know what teams were playing or what the score was. I was that fucked up.
“How did I misread her so badly that I deluded myself into thinking she felt the same way?” I muttered partially to myself.
“I don’t think you did, but she needs to figure that out for herself. She has a score to settle with Rick, and after this much time away, hopefully she realizes he wasn’t all that.”
“I hope so too,” I said miserably. “I love her, Wild. I fucking love her, and it fucking hurts. Like right here.” I jabbed a finger into my chest and swallowed hard. Damn, I wasn’t going to make a fool out of myself and cry in front of Wild, of all people. And why was I baring my soul to this guy? I guess it was the alcohol talking.
“Hey, you’re my choice if I had to choose. You’re all right. You know that.” He playfully punched me in the arm.
His admission made my eyes water, and I viciously swiped at them with a napkin. If Wild noticed, he gave no sign.
“What does she see in him anyway? I’m better-looking, a better hockey player, and way more charming.”
“And you’re humble and honest.” Wild snorted.
“Damn right,” I agreed, completely missing his sarcasm in my drunken state.
The doorbell blasted again, and Wild staggered to open it. Teammates streamed in carrying cases of beer, bags of snacks, and boxes of pizza. Before I knew what was going on, my living room was littered with guys, drinking, talking all at once, and chirping the players on TV.
“He couldn’t find the net if the puck was using GPS.”
“Bannister plays like my blind grandmother.”
“For his wife’s sake, I hope his foreplay is better than his forecheck.”
“I know, for a fact, it isn’t. I’ve banged his wife.” This last comment came from Chowoski, who’d been a teammate of Bannister’s. Everyone knew he screwed around on his wife, and now we knew he didn’t mind sleeping with teammates’ wives either. What a fucking douche.
No one said a word about my broken heart. They were here to distract me and show their support in that odd way only hockey players can. We wouldn’t discuss our feelings, but I knew they were here for me.
It was the way of things, and I completely understood the drill. I’d been part of contingents like this in the past when teammates’ wives or girlfriends had dumped them. We’d get shit-faced and watch hockey as if hockey healed all wounds.
I now realized it didn’t.
I took in the guys lounging on my floor, giving one another shit in a comradely way, and eating me out of house and home. My battered heart filled with pride at being a part of this team. I wasn’t holding back any longer. The Sockeyes were my future, even if Jessie wasn’t.
ChapterThirty-Two
FALLING PUCKS
