Page 9 of Broken As Puck

“We have the talent,” I agreed. The only issue was that some of our players were volatile. Like Drew. Or Delacrue, one of the only remaining team members who’d enjoyed our previous captain’s reign of terror. “If we don’t fuck it up with that whole probation thing. Did you know that was coming?”

He grimaced. “No idea. I hope the guys take it seriously.”

So did I. “The coaches and team leadership will have to lay down the law. Do you have any idea who the alternate captains will be?”

Austin shook his head. “If they’ve decided, then they haven’t told me.”

I hoped I was in with a chance, but I was superstitious enough not to say that. We chatted for a while longer, discussing the probation and how it might impact us, and which players were most likely to cause issues. We talked tactics for our first games, and considering Austin was the captain, I had at least a little hope that our ideas might become more than just talk.

Once we finished eating, we reconvened in the living room, with an enormous screen on one wall. Austin brought up our last game of the season and Jane pulled out her tablet and opened a note-taking app. Apparently, this was a routine for them. I wondered, if Chelsey and I had stayed together, whether we’d have a routine like this.

I followed my own movements on the screen, making a mental note of the things I did well and those I could improve upon. In particular, Gauthier and I could stand to run some drills, so we were more aware of each other’s positioning on the ice. Last season had been our first working together and it showed.

About halfway through the game, I decided I ought to head home to make sure I had plenty of sleep before training tomorrow. I thanked Jane and Austin, excused myself, and trudged down the front steps to where my car was parked on the side of the road.

It was a fifteen-minute drive from their place to mine, and considering the time of night, traffic was light. I parked in the garage and let myself inside. The house was eerily still. The silence seemed to press in on me.

I was never any good at dealing with the quiet. I preferred to be surrounded by noise and bustle. I wasn’t a raging extrovert, but I’d grown up in a tiny apartment with barely enough room for us to move around each other, and I’d gone straight from there to college housing.

I was used to being around people. At least now that the season had started, I’d see all my teammates at training every day. Over the summer break, I wasted far too much time hanging out at the gym or at bars to stave off loneliness.

If my parents knew how much it bothered me, I was sure they wouldn’t mind me hanging out at their place, but they deserved to have space to focus on their relationship after decades of struggling to get by.

I made my way to the bedroom, where I went straight to the small Bluetooth speaker on my nightstand and paired it with my phone, then started a podcast interview with a former NHL coach. The background noise eased some of the tension from my shoulders.

I’d already showered earlier, so I brushed my teeth, made sure everything was in my bag for training, and then crawled into bed. It was still a little early to sleep, so I opened a browser on my phone and, before I could think better of it, searched Chelsey’s name.

The first article to come up was linked from the website of the baseball team she had worked with in LA. I clicked on it, skim-read the article, and clicked back out again. The second hit was for one of her social media accounts. I hesitated, my finger hovering over the link.

Don’t do it, Matt. Nothing good will come of cyberstalking her.

Fuck it, I couldn’t resist.

The first few images were of waterfalls, hills, and forests. They were all stunning because Chelsey was an amazing photographer.

There were a handful of images of her with a fiery-eyed Hispanic woman. I grimaced. So, she was still friends with Layla. I’d have to make sure her bestie didn’t get the opportunity to castrate me, because I had no doubt she’d take it.

Scrolling further, I found a selection of photographs of Chelsey with baseball players. Most of them were candid shots, perhaps taken behind the scenes during her work with the team. When I came across one where a player had his arm around her shoulders and was kissing her cheek, jealousy simmered in my gut. I knew it was ridiculous, but I couldn’t be logical where Chelsey was concerned.

I returned to the top of her profile to check whether she had said anything about being in a relationship. Obviously, if she was dating someone, I needed to stay well away. That would be the smart move anyway… But if she was single, I had a feeling I’d regret it if I didn’t shoot my shot.

Her profile didn’t say anything about having a boyfriend, a fiancé, or—God forbid—a husband. Squeezing my eyes shut, I tried to recall whether there had been a ring on her finger earlier. I couldn’t remember seeing one, but I also wasn’t sure I’d thought to look.

There were no men who appeared regularly in her feed and, from what I could see, none were commenting consistently on her posts.

Maybe she was single.

I sighed and massaged the tight muscle at the top of my jaw. Single or not, Chelsey wouldn’t have anything to do with me unless I offered her a fucking fantastic apology. I closed the app and opened my inbox, then started a draft email and addressed it to her. I wasn’t sure if I had her current email address, but it was worth a try.

Haltingly, I typed out how sorry I was to have hurt her. How much I regretted losing her. Then I tried to explain myself. No, what happened hadn’t been good. In fact, it had been the opposite of good. But it hadn’t been as bad as she’d thought either.

I stared at it until my eyes watered. It just looked like a bunch of excuses and half-assed attempts to smooth things over. It wasn’t good enough. I needed to apologize to her in person. I owed her that much.

But even if I did, what could I possibly say that would erase the utter betrayal I’d seen in her eyes that last day?

Chapter Four

CHELSEY