Page 44 of Love Me (Charlotte Monarchs Hockey #1)

Luke

I tried to book a last-minute trip to Canada to meet up with the guys we have in London and Guelph who will be playing in the NHL Prospect Tournament in September, but I couldn’t make it work with their game schedules, so I ended up not booking anything at all.

I didn’t tell Bree that, though. I sent her a text saying I’m in London, Ontario, meeting up with our prospects. I’ve never felt like such a complete and total dickbag.

Since when did lying become the way I handled myself?

The longer I hide out, the more I feel like my mom. Lying about having a job. Lying about using. Lying to make it seem like she really wanted to see me when all she wanted was more money.

“Hey, babe!” There’s a smile in Bree’s voice as she greets me. “How’s it going there?”

After leaving her apartment the other day, I went straight to an ABC store, the state-mandated liquor stores in North Carolina, and bought a shit-ton of vodka—so much that the cashier asked if I was getting married.

At first, I didn’t understand, but then realized he must have thought I was buying for a reception.

I didn’t have the balls to tell him it was all for me.

I’m four bottles down when I finally have the nerve to answer her phone call. I’ve been drunk for two days straight.

“Good. Good. I’m excited about Axel Stinson, this kid from Guelph. I think he’s gonna be a star. Reminds me of me when I was his age.”

“Talented with a heart of gold. I like him already.”

I ignore her compliment. It doesn’t describe me anymore. “How are things going there?”

“I really miss you, Luke. Being with you gives me confidence and strength and makes me feel like I can handle anything. Especially when my brother is being an immature idiot.”

“Why? What’s he doing?”

Bree’s exhaustion comes through in her sigh.

“He has this stupid idea that you’re the one who took him out of the game.

That you’re the one who hit him.” Bree groans.

“He’s being ridiculous. Before you showed up at my house, we had a fight about what he’s doing with his life.

Now he’s acting like a spoiled brat and lashing out because he’s jealous of my happiness. ”

I bang the back of my head against the chair. Her words sink into my skin, seep into my veins. I’m a coward for not telling her the truth, especially when we don’t have much more time left together. I should man up and tell her Mason is right, but I can’t.

I could walk over right now, fess up, and help Bree through this. Talking to Mason might suck at first, but I know he’d understand. Or I hope he would.

But no. I’m a selfish dick sitting in my condo a few blocks away from her, downing vodka like it’s water because I want to forget what a fucking idiot I am.

Each swallow promises to make the guilt go away. Well, the guilt from being the one who took Mason out of the game. Not the guilt of lying to the only woman I’ve ever really cared about.

I’m worse than a maggot—or whatever the lowest form of life is.

“I’m sorry, babe. I—” I begin to say.

But Bree continues speaking. “I wish he had the strength to move on like you did. If he were excited about something, it wouldn’t matter.”

“Maybe I can help find him a job with a team,” I say quickly.

“You can?”

The lilt in her voice tells me everything I need to know. It’s as if she’s been waiting for me to offer some form of help but would never come right out and ask me.

Why wouldn’t she ask me?

Doesn’t she realize that I adore the ground she walks on? I’d throw myself in front of a fucking bus for her. I’d give her anything I possibly could. If Bree Collins asked for one of my kidneys, I’d cut it out myself with a butter knife and hand it to her on a silver platter.

I don’t even deserve to look at her—let alone date her. I don’t deserve her affection or concern. I don’t deserve to be with a girl who has so much life and love in her heart.

Bree deserves someone better—stronger—than me. As much as I want to have her in my life, I can’t. I can’t ask her to stay in Charlotte. I can’t even ask her to try a long-distance relationship.

Bree deserves a knight in shining armor, not a lowlife from Downtown Eastside Vancouver disguised in expensive clothes, who will always be teetering on the edge of sobriety, destined to follow in his addict mother’s footsteps.

“Let me talk to some people,” I answer. “We’ll get him back on track.”

“Thank you, Luke,” she says. Her slight pause tells me there are tears shimmering in those big, beautiful, blue eyes. “I never would have asked you for help, but I really appreciate you offering.”

“You can ask me for anything, Bree. Nothing makes me happier than making you smile.” My words aren’t hollow. It’s complete and raw honesty coming out. “You’re the most amazing, selfless person I’ve ever met.”

“Have you been drinking?” she teases me.

I run my fingers along the bottle. “Nope. I just don’t think you hear that enough.”

There’s silence on Bree’s end. “You are an amazing person, Luke. And one of the strongest men I’ve ever known.”

It takes all the will I have not to laugh out loud. My strength has always been forged. Fake it until you make it.

For a moment, I wonder if she knows. That my trip is a complete fucking fraud. That I’ve never been as drunk as I am right now. That without the alcohol in my system, I’m not strong enough to suppress the memories of my past.

“Thanks, babe. I needed to hear that today.” I pause. “Get some sleep, okay? I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“You too. I lo?—”

Bree stops. Maybe she heard my sharp inhale. As much as I want to hear the words, I don’t want her to say them. Everything from this point on will be easier if she doesn’t say them.

“I like talking to you, Luke. I like being around you. I can be myself when I’m with you. I feel comfortable and safe. Thank you for that.”

I let out a slow breath, hoping it’s not audible. Just when I’ve narrowly averted one crisis, she throws another at me. She never gives me an easy out. It’s one of those things I love and hate about her simultaneously. I should keep my mouth shut, but I can’t.

“I’ve never felt more alive than when I’m with you, Bree. You’re the sun my entire world revolves around. I wish I could give you everything you deserve.”

“You give me everything I need and more.” Bree pauses. “And Luke?”

“Yeah?”

“Take care of yourself.”

It’s almost like she knows what I’m doing. Maybe she does. After such a short time together, she knows me so well it’s scary.

“I will.”

I touch the screen to hang up the phone, cutting off my connection to Bree.

The only person who’s made me want to keep a clear head in the last year is also the person who drove me right back to my tragic flaw.

Reaching out, I grab the bottle, slide it toward me, and lift it to my lips, confirming the fact that I’m not the right man for such a beautiful soul.

I turn to drinking whenever I can’t cope. It might not be pills, but the intent is the same. I’m a fuck-up from the wrong side of the tracks.

On our first date, Bree used the analogy of us being ships brought together by Jack Dellinger. I think of a completely different connection between a ship and a Jack. We’re on the same boat—the Titanic —and we’re destined to crash into an iceberg. We all know the ending to this story.

I’m the Jack to her Rose. The charismatic poor kid who won tickets onto the luxury ship and faked his way into her heart.

I’ll spend my savings trying to give her everything she’s used to having.

I’ll hang on that fucking plank of wood trying to keep up with the only lifestyle she’s ever known until I slip off, drowning in debt and guilt.

It’s inevitable. The only happy endings in life happen at shady-ass massage parlors.

The top one percent of the population marry within the top one percent, and the rest of us regular people fight for the scraps.

As a former hockey player, I have nothing to give.

I tilt the bottle back again.

There’s probably a picture of her face in the dictionary when you look up the word selfless . She chose a career that lets her devote her life to helping others. She doesn’t say bad things about people. She makes everyone around her feel good about themselves.

And she’s the daughter of people who started a multimillion-dollar company. I’d never fit in with her family. I can’t imagine meeting her parents and telling them about where I grew up. I can’t imagine explaining how I left my mom on the streets of Vancouver and walked away without looking back.

I can’t imagine looking them in the eye and telling them I’m the one who ruined their son’s chance to play in the NHL.

I take another gulp.

My job isn’t shitty—and neither is the pay—but I took a huge salary cut when I moved from professional hockey player to a suit in hockey operations.

I wasn’t an idiot after I signed my first big contract like some young guys.

I’ve heard stories of all the kids who get to the league, start making money, then blow it.

The biggest houses, the fastest cars. But I didn’t.

I played it safe and saved almost every penny because I know what it’s like to live on nothing.

The only exceptions were my condo, which I dropped $150k on, a Jeep Wrangler with every upgrade I wanted, and a house for my mom. In my mind, those things were good investments.

Because I never had much, I never needed much. But it’s nowhere near what I’d need to keep up with the lifestyle Bree’s family created for her.

If I were still playing hockey, I might be able to front for a while. My first contract was over a million dollars a year, and I’m sure the next ones would have been more if I’d been able to keep playing.

If I were still playing hockey, I could afford the million-dollar house and the souped-up Bimmer. I’d be just like the kids in the other parts of Vancouver that I envied growing up. But I’m not a hockey player anymore. At twenty-six years old, I have the equivalent of a traveling desk job.

Everything about me is a big red strike. I’m exactly the type of guy who doesn’t deserve Bree. I know in my heart that we can’t be together whether she realizes it yet or not.