Page 45 of Broken As Puck

Instead of turning on the car, I grabbed my phone and opened the contact page I’d added with Matt’s number after discovering that we were going to have to work together for the documentary. I typed out a short message and my thumb hovered over the “Send” button.

Groaning, I backspaced the text and typed something different.

Then I hit “Send.”

Chapter Fifteen

MATT

Nerves twisted in my gut as I checked the message from Chelsey one last time. Sure enough, it still said the same thing. For some reason, she wanted to meet up with me before training today.

To do what? I had no idea.

My best guess was that she wanted to either scold me again for inserting myself into the documentary process or try to clear the air, because while she didn’t want to admit it, something was definitely happening between us. Not necessarily anything romantic, but there was undeniable tension.

As I slung my duffel bag over my shoulder and headed into the stadium, I was well aware that how I reacted to this discussion might determine what my odds were of being able to win her over later.

In other words, if I screwed up, I might not get another chance.

I dropped off my duffel bag in the changing rooms and took the stairs up to the team meeting room. Given that there was no meeting this morning, the room was empty except for Chelsey, who was sitting on the sofa with a takeout coffee in each hand.

I subtly wiped my sweaty palms on the front of my jeans and walked over to her, wondering whether I should sit beside her or take a different chair. For the sake of keeping things as professional and above board as possible, I pulled a chair opposite her and sank onto it.

She thrust one of the takeout coffee cups toward me. “I got you coffee. It’s an Americano. I didn’t want to give you a whole lot of milk before you go on the ice in case it upset your stomach. Is that okay?”

I took the coffee from her and sipped it. “Yes, that’s very thoughtful of you. Thank you.”

Honestly, I wouldn’t have gotten a coffee for myself, but it wouldn’t hurt either. It might even give me a boost.

I studied her features, hoping for some indication of what we were doing here. She wasn’t smiling, and strain bracketed her mouth. Her eyes were set in a way that made me think she was mentally bracing herself for something.

“You asked to meet?” I let the statement rise at the end in question, prompting her to get to the point. Not that I minded spending time in her company, but the other players would be arriving soon, so I couldn’t afford to stay here with her for too long.

She nodded and cradled her takeout cup on her lap. “I realized yesterday that by refusing to talk about the past, I’m making it more difficult to do my job in the present. I think you and I need to get everything out, so we can talk it over and move on.” She sighed and buried her face in her hands. “I know that pretending the past didn’t happen was my idea, but taking that approach is only causing problems.”

My breath temporarily bottled up in my chest and my limbs felt light. If she was willing to talk it over, then perhaps I had a chance to explain what had happened and apologize for my mistake. She may not be willing to accept my apology, but if I was at least able to make it, then there was a chance. Maybe she would be open to hearing what I had to say.

“How do you want to go about this?” I asked, hesitant to jump the gun by being too enthusiastic. If I made her think I was getting what I wanted all along, I’d just come across as being smug and she would shut down.

She sank her teeth into her plush lip, and it took all my might to resist the urge to reach out and make her stop. Anxious or not, I didn’t want her hurting herself. “You’ve tried to start a conversation with me about this a couple of times now, so go for it. I’ll hear you out and then decide what comes next.”

I internally debated whether to hold onto the coffee cup to give myself something to do with my hands or whether to put it down so I could give her my full attention. In the end, I decided it was better to hold it because otherwise I would probably crack my knuckles as I was prone to do when I was nervous, and that might irritate her.

I leaned forward, both hands around the takeout cup, my gaze locked on her. “First of all, you need to know how incredibly sorry I am that I hurt you. I never meant to, and it cuts me up that I did.”

I waited for a moment to see how she would react.

After a long minute, she nodded. “I never thought you did it intentionally. You’re not a malicious person. But it still hurt.”

I closed my eyes briefly. “I know.” I’d have to live with that forever. “What you saw and heard wasn’t the full story.”

She arched an eyebrow. “So, you’re telling me that I didn’t hear Cory Haas ask you how much longer you planned to keep the fatty around before you moved on to someone more at your level?”

“You did hear that,” I admitted, a lump forming in the back of my throat.

“And did I not hear you say absolutely nothing in response?”

From her expression, you might have thought we were discussing the weather, but a quiet fury burned behind her blank mask. Even so many years later, this still hurt her, and it made me sick to my stomach that I’d ever caused her to doubt herself, even for an instant, let alone had such a long-lasting effect on her self-esteem.