Page 22 of Home for the Hockey-Days (Cedar Rapids Raccoons)

“Wait. You’re breaking up with me?” I stare at my… boyfriend… ex-boyfriend? Roommate? I’m not really sure what he is right now, but surely he’s not saying what I think he’s saying. “You’ve been cheating on me with this…”

“Kai. ”

I glance at my ex-boyfriend’s new boyfriend and suck in a breath, trying to steady myself. My palms are sweaty, my stomach’s in knots, and my jaw is trembling as tears fill my eyes. The last thing I need is to cry in front of either of them. “You’ve been cheating on me with Kai, and now you’re breaking up with me? Am I hearing this right?”

Shane sighs, running a hand through his short blond hair and glancing at the floor with a grimace. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way, but… we’ve been seeing each other for a while.”

“You’re sorry I found out this way ?” My voice goes higher and higher with each repeated word, cracking on the last one.

“I meant to tell you. I really did.”

I let his words hang between us, suffocating me, squeezing my chest so hard it hurts. Two years—two years we’ve been together—and he didn’t even have the decency to tell me he’d found someone else.

Just like always, he failed to think about anything or anyone but himself.

I was the delusional yet dutiful girlfriend. The one who loved him, who put her life on hold so he could get his hockey podcast off the ground, even though I had a dream too.

No one really gives a shit about hockey in New Orleans, but I was right there by his side, helping him succeed, giving up the things I wanted to make him happy.

His life consumed mine, and I let it because I thought we were in this together.

I thought… Well, I guess it doesn’t matter what I thought.

“That’s not good enough, Shane. We’ve been together for two goddamned years, and you don’t think I deserve to know you’re done with me? That you found someone else?”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“You keep saying you're sorry, but I don’t think you are.”

“I’m so?— ”

I narrow my eyes as soon as he opens his mouth, and he leans back on the couch, raising his hands in surrender. He casts a quick glance at Kai, who’s sipping a soda in the kitchen, pretending like he’s not listening despite being able to hear every word.

“Charlotte… Babe…”

“Don’t you babe me, Shane.” I cross my arms, biting down on my bottom lip to keep it from quivering. “You lost that right when you started having feelings for someone else. So… what now? Are you and…?”

“Kai.”

“Are you and Kai moving out?”

He looks back to Kai and swallows, his Adam's apple working up and down, something I used to think was sexy, but now… I honestly don’t know what to feel.

Shane turns to me, cracking his knuckles one by one, something he does when he’s uncomfortable, and I know I’m not going to like what’s coming next. “My name is on the lease, so I think it might be best if you moved out.”

My insides twist and my stomach drops as I take another deep breath, stopping the tears threatening to fall by sheer willpower.

I don’t say another word. I don’t need to. There’s no use fighting him on this. It’s his apartment, and if I really step back and think about it, I don’t want to live here with the ghost of our relationship anyway. With the happy memories and the sad. With what could have been instead of what is.

I don’t need that. I don’t need him.

The next thirty minutes are spent packing up most of my things, and just to be petty, taking a few of Shane’s when he turns his back. The TV remote has been liberated of its batteries, his shampoo has been squirted down the drain, and his toothbrush may have been rubbed around the toilet bowl .

It might be a little childish, but fuck, he was cheating on me and it makes me feel better, so sue me.

I’ve spent way too much of my life making sure Shane was taken care of, paying our bills so he could buy all his recording equipment, and look where that’s gotten me. Nowhere. I have next to no money in my bank account, and definitely nowhere to live.

Fuck me. I’m not sure I can afford a couple of nights in a hotel, and come Monday, I’ll be teaching all week with no time to look for a new apartment.

Shit.

I’m so screwed.

As I’m cramming my heels into my suitcases, I get an idea. It might not be a great idea, but it’s the only one I’ve got.

My brother, Harrison, has technically moved out of his place to shack up with his current girlfriend, leaving an empty room in his teammates’ apartment… A place I happen to have a key to—in case of emergencies—but I feel like if he was here, he’d agree that being cheated on and kicked out of your home by the person you thought was the love of your life qualifies.

He’s a good big brother, he’ll understand.

He’ll have to.

Although, I guess it’s his old roommates I’ll have to convince. At least I’ve got a little luck. They’re all out of town, playing a string of away games, and won’t be back until Monday night. That gives me a little time to gather my thoughts and figure out a game plan that doesn’t involve spending all the money in my bank account.

I might even be able to convince them to let me stay there short-term.

After taking a deep breath, I lean on my suitcases and zip them up. I’ve crammed so much of my stuff into these two bags, I’m afraid they might burst open and throw my pencil skirts everywhere. If there’s anything left, I’ll have to come back for it. There’s no way I’m sticking around here for another second.

When I walk through the apartment, I’m half expecting more patronizing looks from the happy couple, but the living room is empty. It’s not long before I know why. Muffled sounds come from the second bedroom—grunts, pants… I’m pretty sure someone just spanked someone else, as there’s an unmistakable crack of skin against skin followed by a howl. An honest-to-God howl, like one of them is pretending to be a damn wolf.

My gut turns, and my chest tightens as a wave of emotion crashes over me. I try to swallow it down until I leave the apartment, I really do, but I can’t stop the tears that stream down my cheeks.

Two years. I was with this man for two years. I was dedicated to him for two goddamn years, and he can’t even wait until I’m gone to forget all about me. My heart shreds into tiny little jagged pieces.

I can’t believe this is happening. Fucking jerks.

As I set down my suitcases to wipe the tears from my face, I see a note written in Shane’s sloppy handwriting on the dining room table reminding me to return my key. Between heaving sobs, I let several expletives fall from my lips. It takes all my strength not to carve something profane into the hand-me-down wooden table.

He doesn’t deserve my anger. He doesn’t deserve any piece of me.

I slip the key off my keyring and toss it on the center of the table with a shaking hand. Fuck. My sewing machine. I look around at my belongings, shoved into every piece of luggage I own, and do the mental math. There’s no way my two hands are carrying all of this out in one trip—and I’m absolutely not coming back in for any of it right now .

There’s no way I’m sticking around here for another second.

I’ll just have to come back when I’m feeling a little stronger, because today, I don’t have it in me.

As much as I want to bring it, it’s a luxury I can’t afford to carry right now. I’ll have to come back for it, or write it off and replace it. I wince. Mom gave me this sewing machine; it belonged to her mother, but no amount of staring at the pile of bags around my feet makes them shrink, or any lighter to carry.

I can’t linger here any longer. I’ll have to leave it, even if it makes my stomach hurt. I grab my suitcases and drag them down to my car. As I grip the steering wheel and shift the car into drive, I whisper a silent goodbye, wipe the tears from my face, and head to my brother’s old apartment.

Gratitude washes over me as soon as I step through the threshold and into the luxury apartment he called home until about a week and a half ago.

I have two days to figure out what I’m doing. Two days to see if I can find a new place, or if I can come up with a compelling reason for them to let me stay. It’ll have to be one hell of an argument, especially with his best friend, Jace.

He wouldn’t piss on me if I were on fire.

But in the meantime, I need a glass of wine, a pint of ice cream, and a good chick flick I can cry through.

A wheel sticks on my giant suitcase, and I end up dragging it halfway into the living room where I drop it to the floor before falling face-first on their leather couch. I’m fully ready to wallow in my own self-pity when I catch a whiff of something awful.

What the hell is that smell? Did something die in here?

After pushing myself up, I head into the kitchen and stop short as I take in not just a sink full of dirty dishes, but plates and bowls littered with food stacked up half the length of the counter. These boys are pigs, and clearly have no idea what a dishwasher is. I lived with Harrison growing up, so I’m used to messes. But this… Oof . This is gross.

How could they go on a several-day road trip and leave the kitchen looking like this? I don’t know how much they make a year between their NHL contracts and their endorsements, but it’s more than enough to hire a damn housekeeper.

Cleaning up after Shane and a rowdy class of kids all week was bad enough. Throw in getting cheated on and broken up with, hauling my meager possessions across town, and I’m wiped. I wasn’t prepared to spend my weekend cleaning up after grown fucking men, but I can’t live in this filth. Not even for a couple days. And maybe it’ll help them see me as an asset and let me stay if they come back and their apartment doesn’t smell like the inside of a dumpster.

A few curse words and many tears later, my eyes are puffy, my head hurts, and my throat is raw, but the apartment looks a little more livable. The stench isn’t gone completely, but if I leave the windows open a bit longer, maybe the New Orleans swamp smell will drown out the stench of a rotting carcass.

Sweat streams down my back, and I briefly contemplate lying back on the sofa before deciding to take a shower. After digging my shower stuff out of my smaller suitcase, I pull open the music app on my phone and pick my Girl Power playlist. I know my girls Kesha, Bey, and T-Swift will have my back. If there’s anyone that can help me get over a soul-crushing breakup, it’s them.

I crank the shower to melt-your-skin-off hot and step under the spray. Hanging my head, I let myself feel the heartache, the betrayal, the pain of walking in on my boyfriend with someone else. I obsess over what I might have done wrong, what I could’ve done to prevent this. As my tears wash down the drain, I straighten my spine. Shane cheating on me was inevitable. He was selfish, arrogant, rude, and only did something if it benefited him.

I’m better off without him. I don’t deserve to be treated like that, to be suffocated in a one-way relationship where I will never be able to really be who I am. Where I’m not allowed to have opinions of my own and dreams that don’t involve him.

This is going to be a new era of getting what I want, discovering myself, and most importantly, being the best damn elementary teacher in the district—despite my asshole boss.

With a little more determination, I turn off the shower and pat my skin dry to the beat of the music. After doctoring up my curls, I toss the towel on the floor and dance my way into the living room. I just need something comfortable to wear for the night, and I’ll worry about unpacking in the morning. I make my way around the gigantic couch, cranking up the volume before digging through the rest of my belongings.

Bent over with my ass in the air, I’m shout-singing along to "DONE” by The Band Perry, and feeling so much better about my life.

Fuck Shane, and fuck every guy who thinks they can dip their sticks in other people when they’re supposed to be in a committed relationship.

I spin, then scream bloody murder, the container of lotion in my hand falling to the floor with a thud .

Turns out, I’m no longer alone.

I don’t know how long they’ve been standing there, but my brother’s three roommates are six feet from where I’m standing. And by the looks of the tents they’re all pitching in their dress pants, I just gave them a pretty good show .

Welp, this is awkward.