Page 26 of Hockey Player Seeking Fan (Billionaires Seeking Wives Club #2)

Chapter Eighteen

T yler

I feel like absolute shit.

It's been a week since I slept with Erica, and I haven't seen her since I woke up the morning after we made love. She hadn't been there, and she hasn't answered any of my calls. I don't even know what to say. What to do.

I'd been fucking shocked when I realized she was a virgin, though.

I don't know why it surprised me. It really should have made sense.

I should have figured it out before that moment.

She was so innocent, so sweet, so desperately looking for true love that it made sense she hadn't slept with anyone before.

But she'd given herself to me—wanting and lovingly. Fuck. I’m growing hard just thinking about it.

I don’t even want to think about what she is doing or thinking.

I try calling her again, but she doesn't answer. I've tried calling her twenty-two times. I sent her eleven text messages. I don’t want to seem like a psycho and realize that I need to get out of this funk.

Maybe I hadn’t been good. Maybe she didn’t like me. Maybe—just maybe—she realized that she didn’t want to be with a man like me. That’s why she hasn’t called me back.

God, I wish she’d give me an opportunity to tell her. To show her just how much better I could be.

My phone rings, and I perk up, excitedly hoping it’s her. But it’s not.

It’s an old friend of mine that I’d gone on a couple of dates with back in the day.

“Hey, what’s going on, Jennifer?” I say as I answer the phone. I don’t really want to talk to her, but I need to distract myself from thinking about Erica.

“Yo, Tyler. What’s good?”

“Not much. Just getting ready for the big game coming up.”

“Yeah. Good luck with that. So, I have a question for you.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“What are you up to tonight?”

“I am not looking for anything right now.” I say immediately.

“Tyler, you know I think you’re a great guy, but?—”

“I didn’t mean to offend you. Our time together was fun.”

“No, it’s not for me, dude. I like girls now.”

“Oh. You do?” I had not expected that. At all.

“Yeah, I do. I’ve been dating a woman for the last six months.”

“Oh, my bad.” I chuckle. “I didn’t see that one coming.”

“Yeah. Well, anyway. I have a friend, and she’d like to meet you. And this is someone I would want to meet because... well, because she’s cute, she’s not looking for anything serious, and... I thought maybe you'd like to have a nice night out.”

“I don’t know. I just?—”

“Come on. What do you have to lose?”

“I mean, I guess nothing. What’s her name?”

“Her name is Melanie.”

“Okay, and what exactly do you want me to do with Melanie?”

“I mean, what you do with Melanie is up to you. But I’m sure she’d be happy if you fucked her.”

“Really?”

“She likes to fuck hot sports stars. And you’re a hot sports star. I mean, I may be gay now, but it doesn’t mean I can’t recognize a hot body when I see one.”

“So you pimp me out to your friends now?”

“No, but I figured you might like hanging out with her. One evening, right? A drink?”

“Yeah, I guess. Tell her to meet me at the Old Seagrade Bar in the West Village around seven.”

“Sounds good. Have a good night.”

“You, too.”

I hang up the phone and wonder what I’ve just done, but I realize it’s for the best. It’s better than me just sitting at home, thinking about Erica, wondering what she’s doing. I have to get my shit together.

I look at my watch and realize I’ve got a couple of hours until I meet with Melanie. Then I realize I don’t even know what she looks like. I could be going to a bar for no reason. But then I figure Jennifer will likely show her a photo of me, so she can come up to me if she wants.

I go into my spare bedroom and stare at the canvas on the easel. I grab my paintbrush, press play on my phone, and start some music. I allow myself to just paint. I allow myself to think of all the things that have been weighing on my mind. I allow myself to just be.

I stare out the window for a couple of seconds to think about the city. I think about what it is to be on Earth in a city such as this. To be someone with money. To be someone with responsibility. To be someone who seemingly has the world yet is not happy.

I hate admitting that to myself. I hate admitting that I am someone who should have everything, and I’m not happy with where my path is taking me. And when I think about being with Erica, I realize that moments with her were moments of bliss.

I want to call her again. Apologize. I’ve been thinking of her nonstop. But I also want to respect her.

I head back to feel free.

I feel like I felt as a young boy walking through the fields, staring at the sky, listening to the cows, feeling the fresh air on my skin, running and running and running, and hanging out with my friends, not worrying about anything—except when I needed a new pair of shoes or was crying.

I try to forget those moments when I can. I try to forget what it was to be a scared child.

Eventually, I grab my phone and decide to call my sister because I feel guilty. Guilty for making her feel like she was using me. Guilty for making her feel like she was taking something, for making her feel like I thought she didn’t care about me.

There were all these small things she does on a day-to-day basis that make me feel loved, and I don’t want her to think I don’t appreciate that.

She answers on the third ring.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Muriel. It’s me.”

I know she’s pissed, and I understand why.

“You’re upset with me.”

“Why would I be upset at my brother, who thinks I don’t care about him and I’m just using him to pay for my wedding—when he is the one who offered to pay for my wedding, and he is the one that?—”

“Muriel, I love you. I’m more than happy to pay for your wedding and your honeymoon. I’m more than happy to buy you this house. I just want to make sure that you’re not being taken advantage of.”

“I guess,” is all she says, sounding bitter.

“What?”

“The wedding is off.”

“What do you mean?”

“He was cheating on me. He—” Her voice catches. “I’m sorry. I can’t talk about this right now.”

“What’s going on? What do you mean, he was cheating on you? I don’t understand…”

“I can’t talk about this right now. Can I call you later?”

“Hold on, Muriel—yeah, I love you. Do you want me to come home to you?”

“It’s okay,” she says. “You were right, and I was wrong.

He was a jackass." She sniffles. "I know you've always had my best interests at heart.

And I know recently I've been so absorbed, and I'm sorry.

I'm hurting right now, and I'm trying to process.

But I'm sorry, because I love you, and I know you do a lot for us.

You do everything for us. And I know that you're just there by yourself, and I'm sorry.

I'm sorry that our dad sucked and you had to step up.

You really shouldn't have had to. And Mom's also sorry. You have to know that."

"I hear her talking to Pastor David, and I hear her say that."

"What are you talking about?"

"She feels guilty. You know that, right?"

"Why would she feel guilty?"

"Because she's the mom. And she was meant to take care of us, and you stepped into that role.

And of course, we love you for it, and we thank you for it.

But we know—we don't take you for granted.

I mean, I know sometimes it seems like we take you for granted because we always want something, but that's because you're so giving and loving.

And... well, I just want you to know that we don't think you're just our cash cow or whatever.

And I didn't mean to make you think that. "

"Okay. It's okay.”

“But Tyler?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't be jaded. Every woman out there is not just after you for your money or because you're a hockey player. There are some women who aren’t going to like that.”

I laugh. "Trust me, I know."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that maybe I've met someone who is the very opposite of what I ever expected to find in my life. And maybe that's got me asking all sorts of questions I didn’t know I needed answers to."

"You okay, big bro?"

"I am. You okay, Muriel?"

"I’ll be okay. I mean, I’m glad I found out before the wedding."

"See, you're being smart here. In fact, I think that?—”

"I don’t need to hear anything else right now. My heart is still broken." She sniffles. "But I want to hear more about your girl when you feel like telling me, okay?"

"She’s not my girl. Trust me. She's just..."

"She’s just what?"

"She’s just a girl. For now."

“Uh huh, sure. Whatever, Mr. Non Committal.”

I take a deep breath. "Hey, I should get going. I have a date, and I should get ready."

"With this girl or someone else?”

“Does it matter?”

"What? Tyler, what are you doing?"

"Trust me, sis. One day you’ll understand."

"One day? Tyler, my engagement just got called off because my fiancé was cheating on me. That ‘one day’ is here," she says, laughing ironically. "But I hope you know what you’re doing."

"So do I, sis," I say, and hang up.

I enter the Old Sea Brigade, look around, and wait to see if any woman is going to come up to me. But no one does.

I head toward the bar, and I’m about to order a drink when a cute, short redhead stops next to me.

"Hey there. Tyler, right?"

"Hi," I say, staring at her.

"I’m Melanie. I think Jennifer called you earlier?"

"Oh, yeah. Nice to meet you. Would you like something to drink?"

"Yeah, get me an IPA or something."

"Sure," I say.

She bites down on her lower lip, and I watch as she pushes her chest forward. She’s pretty—in an obvious way. Pretty, not stunning. She’s got on a lot of makeup, caked so thick I can actually see it starting to rub off.

It’s not a look I normally go for, but I’m just here to enjoy the evening.

I grab the beer and we head over to a free booth and take a seat.

"So, why exactly did you want to meet me?" I ask.

"You’re going to think this is funny, but I’ve never done a hockey star before."

"Sorry, what?" Did I just hear her correctly?