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Chapter Twenty-Nine

“He’s got a single-minded focus on something, but it sure ain’t his rehab. Anyone NOT see the latest ZachaCam? #Disappointed” Penni’s Puckleberry Tea

Boh

I let the guy record for a solid three minutes. Any longer and I would have lost my mind.

What was left of it.

With my hand wrapped around her upper arm, I pushed Aubrey away. “I’m done.”

She blinked, confusion playing across her face. “You’re done ? What is that supposed to mean?”

I nodded to the trio of men in the booth across the room, all three turned in our direction. “They got enough. I’m done.”

She tilted her head, the hair she’d brutalized into some elaborate shape on her head moving as stiffly as she did. “Enough what?” But an inkling of awareness entered her expression. “Did you just use me, Boh?”

I picked up my pilsner from the top of the bar. “Don’t act surprised.”

“You called me to be here. You kissed me.”

I nodded to the guys in the booth again. They’d turned their attention to the basket of fries between them, but still darted looks my way. In case I gave them more of a show, in case Aubrey gave them a show.

Her gaze lingered on the men when she spoke. “The one in the Red Devils jersey? He’s dating my cousin. He gets work with The Dispatch every now and then.”

“He take the first video?”

Aubrey leaned on the bar and motioned for the bartender to bring her a drink. I’d have preferred she left, but… what did it matter at this point? She perched on the edge of a stool. “I tell him when I know you guys are gonna be somewhere. Of course, y’all come down here to the Puck’n Boards often enough, everyone knows.”

“You tip him off that night?”

“Not that it matters anymore, but yeah.”

I took a long swig from my glass, wiped the back of my hand over my lips. “Turnabout’s fair play, then, right?”

“Trent won’t even talk to me any more.”

Did she want me to feel bad for her? For stepping out on her man? “You knew the risks.”

“So did you.”

I had. But I’d had a grudge against Trent, one I had no cause to carry. I’d need to do something about that soon.

“What was the reason for tonight?”

I shook my head just as the bartender delivered her drink. She picked up the glass and turned away. Walked over to join the guys in the booth and I dismissed her from my thoughts.

They’d upload the video they’d just taken, if they hadn’t already, and I’d have what I wanted.

Someone would send it to Novy. We’d been seen out together enough, she knew enough people. Someone would feel the need to ‘do the right thing’ and send her the link.

And anything I might have had going with Novy Dalton would be over. She’d go about her life, find herself a husband and two point five kids and picket fence and whatever else she needed to be happy. Leaving me free to play hockey for the rest of my happy life.

AB Bouchard sauntered up, positioned himself in my direct line of sight. “I call bullshit.”

I sucked back another swallow. “Not the night for your bullshit, AB.”

“Let’s head back to your place and drink in private. Or my place. Talk.”

“Nothing to talk about.”

The entire Renegades team, staff and players, assembled in preparation for pre-season physicals. Coach Trasier stood at the front of the room and reminded us of the contracts we’d signed, the team policies and codes of conduct outlining player expectations both on and off the ice. More than one head turned in my direction when he announced a zero tolerance season.

I’d gritted my teeth and didn’t let a hint of what I was feeling touch my face.

The players and staff broke after the last front office talking head gave their usual training camp welcome speech. I should have bolted to the parking deck, my truck, and the apartment.

The empty apartment.

I rubbed my fist over my chest. My teammates streamed around me as they headed to the exit, but I struggled to meet their eyes today. With my luck, one of them would invite us to a cook-out or team building event and I’d have to explain I no longer had an “us”.

Novy’d left less than twenty-four hours ago. I’d done the right thing and protected her future. I’d feel better tomorrow. Like anything else, with a little time I'd be good as new. And maybe even find a way to hold my head up.

I stood in front of the podium, waiting for the room to clear. I’d head to the weight room or the player lounge, delay going home a little longer. Just as I turned to head out after the other guys, someone shoulder-checked me as he passed. Trent Beckett. Guilt curdled the contents of my stomach. I fisted my hand. Time to get it over with.

“Beckett,” I called before the ?urák hit the door. “Got a minute?”

His stride hitched half a step, then he passed through the open door without a word. Sakra. I took off after him. The man would hear my apology whether he liked it or not.

I caught up to him in the hallway. “Beckett, give me a damn minute.”

“Not interested in anything you have to say, Zacha.”

Which was his right, but he also deserved a moment to trample my pride for what I’d done. “I fucked up,” I said, loud enough to draw the attention of the players and staff loitering at the other end of the hall. My ears burned and I could just imagine the flush filling my cheeks. But I’d kissed his girl in the eyes of the public. Made sense I should make good on my fuck up in public too.

“You don’t have to accept my apology, but I’m offering it up anyway. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done it. I should have respected you, the team.” I scraped my hand through my hair.

Trent stood several feet away, his expression inscrutable. Then he nodded, turned on his heel, and blasted open the door at the end of the hall that led to the parking garage.

Noise filled the player lounge. Laughter from the guys playing ping pong. Light-hearted ribbing from the guys standing beneath one of the giant screens playing footage from last year’s season. More guys perched on the dozen leather chairs dotting the room.

Music blared from an unseen speaker.

I should find the source; turn it up. I needed the noise. The racket. The distraction.

At least my head kept it together. No headache, no dull throb at my temple. No painful shadow blocking my vision.

I’d well and truly put the concussion behind me. With the last weeks of physical therapy, my ankle was good as new. I was in as good of shape as any of the other guys heading into training camp. I’d pass the physical and start training with the rest of the team.

I’d invited a few of the guys over with the excuse of celebrating my return and the lure of beer. Not in a bar where we’d usually pull off this kind of crap, but here in the apartment. I needed the guys’ presence to stamp out Novy’s ghost. Needed them to scarf down the food in the fridge, dishes she’d left tucked away in the fridge. Needed them to fill up the space with their disgusting guy stink and dispel the sweet meruňka scent she’d left behind in everything she’d touched.

Charlie Taft slouched down on the chair pulled up to the island. I’d already called to see who I needed to speak to get the island removed. Time for a renovation.

Cody lifted his Coke can when Charlie looked toward him for confirmation of the story he was telling.

“And you know I don’t like sharing sheets. I don’t know how you guys sleep in a crowded bed.” The guys laugh at Cody’s story, the older guys shaking their heads even as the younger ones nodded in agreement. “But I let her stay. She was cute and all. But then Boh here texts at fuckin’ seven in the morning. Sucks to be me cuz the girl saw my phone light up with his name and she couldn’t be silenced after that. No way I was getting any more sleep, and fuckin’ a woman who can’t stop saying Boh’s name isn’t my style, no matter what shape my morning wood is in.

“She wanted me to bring her along today, can you imagine? What was she thinking? Sex does not equal a girlfriend.” Cody nodded in my direction. “And besides that, I had to break the news that the famous Bohdan Zacha is off the market! I thought she was gonna cry, I swear. That took care of my wood, lickety split.”

Shep stood up straight from where he fiddled with the television. “Speaking of… where’s Novy?”

It felt like every eye in the apartment suddenly turned in my direction. Someone even muted the game on the T.V. screen.

I sucked in a deep breath, pushing against the constriction in my chest. The constriction that had taken up residence the instant Dr. Altman cleared me to return to hockey. The constriction that seemed determined to make every breath more painful than the last.

“She’s mad, right?” Cody said. “Saw those clips from last night.” Cody shook his head like an old man instructing a particularly stupid younger pupil. “Novy’s not like the bunny that rode my dick last night, man. She’s the real deal.”

A muscle in my jaw popped, my teeth grinding against the stab of pain Cody’s innocent words sent ricocheting through me. “Novy’s gone.”

The two words echoed in my brain, over and over, digging the blade deeper with each unending repetition. Novy’s gone.

“That was a stupid move, man. You can’t treat women like that and expect them to stick around.”

“Wait, wait. Did Novy take off before the video or after?”

“Before.” I scraped my hand through my hair, gripped the back of my neck. “It wasn’t going to last.”

“And you’d rather be with Aubrey Canfield than work it out with Novy?”

“What? No.” Then an idea flashed through my muddied up thinking. “I mean, yes. Yes, women like Aubrey will just move on to the next meal ticket. I wouldn’t care if I hurt them. But with Novy, it’s different.”

“Bro, you are making zero sense,” Cody said. “Novy’s not going to move on to the next meal ticket. She’s the sort to dig in. She’s the sort you commit to, the kind of girl who will stick with you through thick and thin, sickness and health, blah blah blah.”

“That’s exactly what I don’t need.”

Shep dropped his phone. “Novy’s not a girl you fuck around with, Boh.”

“No, she’s not.” I looked around at the faces of my teammates. Some I’d known for years, some had joined the team recently, but they each played with the same risks and rewards. Surely they’d understand, even if they didn’t make the same choices as me. “This second concussion… Man, it took everything I had to shake the symptoms this time. I got lucky. But maybe next time I’m not so lucky. Or maybe something worse. She doesn’t need to be saddled with someone who can’t take care of himself.”

If possible, the room fell even more silent. A dozen eyes drilled into me.

Shep lunged forward, slamming his hand into my shoulder and nearly dislodging me from the stool. “Are you insane? You fuckin’ lie when you said they cleared you? ‘Cause the words coming out of your mouth is the stupidest line of bullshit I’ve ever heard.”

Theo Fournier stepped between us, strong-arming Shep past the couch to stand a few feet away. The captain’s gaze, dark and serious, held mine. “You think you’re the only person to think this way? You think a police officer doesn’t have worries when he heads out for his shift? A pilot? These people risk their lives every day, you think they all stay single?”

I blinked. I’d not thought about other careers. Of course not every police officer was single.

Charlie banged his beer can on the island. “Shit happens, man. That’s called life. You think some pansy ass in some pansy ass job will never get sick? Never get hit by a car? Shit happens.”

“This knee is not going to take me into old age,” Nick Sagaser said. “You think Lanie is going to take off when she has to deal with a husband and his bum leg?”

I shook my head. Sagaser and his wife had a perfect relationship, from the outside looking in. And while I understood no relationship was perfect, I couldn’t imagine his wife taking off. Not even for a minute.

“But did you see Mr. Edwards at the golf classic? The way he treated Ms. Katie?” I pointed to my head. “That man is a completely different person than he was last year.”

“Boh, bro, listen. What you’re feeling is normal. Especially after a concussion. None of us like to talk about it, but anxiety is common after a concussion. These things you’re talking about aren’t new. You’re just vulnerable right now.”

Shep sat on the couch staring up at the muted game on the television. Nick and Cody sprawled out on the floor, but averted their eyes when I scanned the room. Anxiety spiked through me, a painful edge of embarrassment burning the back of my neck. I pushed up off the stool, ready to leave my own apartment to escape the room.

Fournier slid into my line of sight, his back to the room and spoke in a low voice. “Sit down, Boh. I don’t stop being your captain when we step off the ice.”

Shep snorted, lunged up off the couch and joined our captain in front of me. They effectively blocked out the rest of the room and the other players.

“I can see from the way some of the fellas aren’t making eye-contact that I’m going to have some words to share with everyone, but today, my words are just for you. It’s my job to do what I can for you guys. To be the voice to the admin and organization for the players. I’ve been a hockey player for a lot of years. And I can tell you that what you are experiencing right now is something every single one of us experience at some point in our life. You are not wrong to be concerned. You are not wrong to get the facts and be aware of the potential risks and to do what you can to alleviate that risk where you can.”

He put his hand on my shoulder, squeezed. “Anxiety spikes after concussions. Some people develop depression, some get really bad depression. This is a fact. So all the things you might be able to look at rationally any other time feel much more intense right now.”

Shep shoved my shoulder again. “Boh, not every player who’s had a concussion turns into Mr. Edwards. Could you? Of course. No way to know. Just like I could be hit by a bus the moment I step on the street. No way to know. Don’t say you broke things off with Novy because you freaked out after seeing Tom Edwards.”

“I figure it’s hockey or Novy. I can’t have both. If I continue to play hockey, I’m going to end up like Edwards. Which means I’d be locking Novy down to suffer a future with me. I have a choice now and I’m making it.”“You’re an idiot. You think a woman like her will be single for long?” Shep snatched his phone up from the couch. “In fact, I might just give my girl a call.”

I leapt from the stool to right in front of him, my blood on fire, ready to rip my best friend apart. He cocked his head with a trace of a grin. “If not me, maybe some accountant. You know, one of those safe jobs. Hopefully he watches his cholesterol and never turns right on red, just in case. So many dangers out there in the real world, right? Hopefully she gets a safe, smart one.”

I checked my phone for the hundredth time that night in bed. Time dragged on as I battled to find even a little bit of sleep. After two in the morning and no closer now than I had been at midnight.

My thoughts circled around what my teammates said earlier. Shep’s words in particular. He’d been making light of my concerns, turning it into a joke but his point landed where everyone else’s rational arguments failed.

So I had a concussion? So did a lot of other people. So I worked in a dangerous occupation. So did a lot of people. And while hockey was my passion, it was also a job. One I was highly qualified for, while I was not qualified to do anything else. Of course, I’d already made a lot of money. I could manage my money properly and perhaps never have to work again.

Some would call me a fool to continue in a high-risk activity.

Some would call me irresponsible to put my future at risk.

But I wouldn’t be me without hockey.

And plenty would call me a moron for thinking I was the only person ever faced with this kind of decision.

No one had ever accused me of not having an ego.

The silence of the apartment grated on my every nerve.

I missed Novy.

I missed the sound of her voice as she chatted on the phone or recorded her videos. I missed the sound of her clanking around the kitchen as she prepped and cooked and treated me to her latest concoction.

I missed the warmth of her presence. I missed the weight of her body alongside mine. The gentle touch of her fingers as she petted my chest and drifted off to sleep.

I missed the way she worried for me. Not the big, scary kind of worry. But the little things. Leaving me smoothies in the morning. Cheering my work-outs and rehab. The caring, partner things that made me feel cared for, appreciated, loved.

I rolled over and eyed the clock. Nearly three a.m.

I wasn’t going to sleep. I wasn’t going to be able to do anything until this thing with Novy was resolved. I’d messed up. I’d fucked up big. I needed to make it right, even if she didn’t forgive me. Even if I never saw her again, I needed to apologize and set the record straight.

As much as I wanted to rush, she wouldn’t appreciate my showing up at three in the morning, so I took my time, showered, pulled on the dark green button down she liked and made my way to her place.

She rented a downstairs apartment in a renovated Victorian. Her door opened to a central hall with another door opposite hers and stairs heading up at the center back. Nice enough, but no security on the front door and her on the bottom level made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. She needed to have more care for her safety.

I checked my watch. Straight up five. She’d be stirring about now. Getting ready for her work at the assisted living facility.

I knocked my knuckle on the door, just hard enough to create a sound. Just what I needed, to wake her and put her in a lousy mood before I could even get started. I should turn away and come back at a decent hour. But she’d be at work then. Could I wait until the weekend?

I tapped her door again, a bit louder. Because no, I couldn’t wait. I’m a selfish prick and it wasn’t like she didn’t already know that about me.

The door eased open and suddenly Novy stood in front of me, her hair a mess from her sleep, her eyes heavy-lidded and barely focused. “Boh?”

“Let me in, Novy.”She eased back, her hand already pushing the door closed. “Go away, Boh.”

“Just hear me out. Two minutes. Hear me out and then I’ll leave.”

“I’m not awake. I’m definitely not in the mood to hear anything you have to say.” She pushed the door closed and I heard a thump as though she’d leaned heavily on the door. “I saw the video, Boh.”

I leaned against the front of the door, my forehead to the cold wood. “I figured.” I clenched my eyes closed and growled. “I didn’t go home with her.”

“But your point was made, wasn’t it?”

I balled my hand into a fist. I wanted to bang on the door, shout my innocence, beg for forgiveness. But I’d set this scenario up. I had to deal with the consequences.

“Go away, Boh.”

“Wait, Novy. Just give me a second.”

She didn’t reply.

“I’m sorry, Novy. It was a stupid mistake. Thoughtless. Moronic. I’m sorry. I regret it.”

Still no response and I pressed my fist against the door, helpless to vent the emotion rioting through me.

I was a fucking idiot. I’d contrived a way to push her away, she knew I’d contrived the whole scenario to push her away, and she wanted nothing to do with someone like me. I’d worried how I would treat her if I lost my mind to injury down the road. I should have given more thought to how I treated her now.

“Novy? Give me one minute of your time. Please. Just one.”

No response. Was she even standing there any longer? Or had she walked away?

Then the sharp click of the door being unlocked.

A moment later I stood in the center of her living room. She moved to stand beside her couch, angling to put the heavy coffee table between the two of us. If it gave her the reassurance she needed to let me in the room, I was all for it. Whatever she needed.

She crossed her arms over her chest, the picture of a closed off, angry woman. I swallowed hard.

“Okay,” I said, “I’ve got a whole speech prepared. I practiced in the weight room, in the car on the way over. But I’ll still probably forget half of what I need to say, what you deserve to hear.”

I shoved my hand through my hair. Brought my eyes up to meet hers, but she looked away and uneasiness coursed through me. “I am sorry, Novy. I am sorry for saying we had nothing more than a contract between us. For demanding you leave. I’m especially sorry for the show I put on at the Puck.”

I sucked in a breath and nearly choked. My throat closed up, my mouth as dry as the Sahara. “I’m really sorry for the Puck.”

“You accomplished what you set out to do.”

“I shouldn’t have let Aubrey touch me. I shouldn’t have even been in there.”

“You wanted to make sure I understood.”

She was right and I hated that. What had I been thinking? “I wanted you to feel okay about moving on.”

She rolled her eyes. “You wanted to be cruel. You made a choice and you did what you did. Your choices didn’t take how I would feel into consideration. You didn’t care what I felt, as long as what I felt got me out of your way.”

“No, that’s not true. Not at all. I did care—I do care what you’re feeling.”

She stared somewhere over my shoulder, adjusting her gaze to avoid mine when I shifted into her line of sight. “I’m sorry for saying you didn’t mean anything to me, meruňka, because that’s nothing near the truth. You mean everything to me.”

She snorted.

“At the golf tournament, there was an incident with an old retired player, Tom Edwards. He’s a good man. Was like a mentor to me when I first came to the Renegades. He and his wife came to every team event they could. He lived and breathed hockey and we could sit down and talk for hours about our love for the game. And Ms. Edwards, Katie, she might as well have been a third grandmother, the way she cared for me. Even as I adjusted to life in the States and in the NHL, we stayed close.

“At the tournament, he was like a stranger, so different. I’d seen him just a few months ago, but speaking with him was like talking to a stranger. And the way he lashed out at his wife, like she was not just a stranger but one he hated. He was horrible, tearing into her about her clothes, her care for him, everything.”

I chanced looking at her and found Novy’s gaze on me for the first time since I’d pushed my way into her company. Her soft gaze held mine. “It scared the hell out of me, Novy. Katie explained that his doctors think he’s suffering from PCS. A brain injury. We have to assume from his time in the league.”

“That’s terrible.”

“It is. But I couldn’t stop thinking about how he used to treat Katie. He worshiped the ground she walked on. He spent every waking moment making sure she had everything she could ever want. I’ve spent the last few years watching the perfect couple. They made everyone smile with their devotion to one another. And yet here was that same man tearing into her when she offered to get him a drink. Brutally. Viciously. I wouldn’t speak to my worst enemy the way he spoke to her.

“I couldn’t stop thinking that if I continued to play hockey, I would turn into Mr. Edwards down the line. That his future was inevitably mine. So I would be doing to my partner what I saw him doing to his. And I saw you as my partner, Novaline. That was equally inevitable. I imagined myself turning on you the way he turned on Katie and it was unacceptable. Absolutely unacceptable.

“You deserve so much more than a damaged hockey player with nothing else going for him. So much more than someone like me.” I stepped forward, held out my hand like a peace offering. If ever a hand could beg, mine did. “But if you’ll have me, Novy, I’ll drop to my knees in gratitude. Being without you terrifies me more than the fear of what my future holds.”

She looked at my hand, her face a mask. Her arms wrapped protectively around herself. I waited for her to relax, to reach out and place her soft hand in mine. I pushed a smile to my lips, relieved to have made it through the embarrassing speech.

My meruňka wouldn’t hold a grudge. She’d forgive me. We could start our happily ever after.

“You know what’s interesting?” Her words came out soft, but a hint of anger sharpened their edges. “In that whole speech, in all your worry and concern, you never thought to talk to me about what was going on in your head. In all your decisions and conclusions, you never thought, hey, you know what? I should ask Novy what her take on this might be.” She walked to the entry, putting more distance between us and my stomach twisted. “You never asked for my opinion, for one. And for two, you made decisions for me. For me. As though you had every right to decide what I want, what I should have, how I feel.”

She unfolded her arms and opened the door. “I appreciate it took a lot for you to come by and offer your apology. And I accept it for the things you’ve mentioned. But you got it all wrong, Bohdan. You think I deserve more than a ‘broken hockey player’? I think I deserve more than a partner who never takes my thoughts and opinions into consideration. I deserve more than a man who thinks he can decide for me what I want in my life, what I’ll accept.”

She kicked her thumb over her shoulder. “Time for you to leave. We’re done here.”

The hint of anger morphed into a scowl over her pretty features. Her lips pulled taut, her body held rigid as she waited for me to exit.

My thoughts spiraled. I rifled through the past few minutes, to the words I’d said and blanked on what to say next. Between one breath and the next, her anger ripped the blinders off and I understood what the guys had been saying. I understood what she was saying. I’d made a lot of mistakes, but had I blundered this apology beyond salvaging? “Wait, Novy, you’re right. I should have discussed this with you—”

“You think?”

Her sarcasm stung.

“I do, you’re absolutely right.”

“So glad you agree, Mr. Zacha. Now, if you don’t mind, I need to get to work.”