Page 6

Chapter 5

Nash

I have a quiet night at home, just how I like it. It’s not as easy to sleep as I would have hoped, because I’m still thinking about this stupid marriage. Charlie called me back late last night. The bad news is that the chapel did file the certificate. She couldn’t find it months ago when she did a records search because the Vegas registry is backlogged and it was essentially in limbo. But it’s filed now. Charlie did assure me an annulment would be quick and easy, though, so I get enough sleep that I feel okay in the morning, which is good because we have an on-ice practice at ten. I get up at seven like always, even on weekends, and send Tenley a text telling her it’s a valid marriage but I’m ending it asap. Then I head to the yoga studio across the street from my building.

I don’t tell any of the other guys I willingly do yoga—that I look forward to it—because they’d tease me, but it’s been great for my flexibility on the ice and it helps with my sore achy muscles that last the entire season. It doesn’t help with this stupid ache, but I took some of the leftover prescription pain meds I was given after my surgery last summer and that’s been helping.

The yoga class is hot yoga so I come out an hour later sweaty and head to the juice bar next to the yoga studio. I grab a coconut, blueberry smoothie with protein powder and then go home to shower. I’m fully intending to swing by the clinic and get that x-ray Gabrielle requested before practice but when I get out of the shower I find four missed calls on my phone.

One from Coach.

One from my mom.

One from Christine who manages the Quake’s PR.

One from Dad.

They all leave voicemails. But before I listen to them I notice there’s a text from Crew so I open it.

CREW: SOMEONE RATTED. I need you to know it wasn’t me. Call me. Do NOT freak out. Too much.

What the hell is he talking about? I wonder as I stand with a towel loosely tied around my waist while I drip water all over the floor. I retrieve my voicemails.

Coach’s voicemail is, “Nash. Call me. TMZ is reporting some really ridiculous stuff.”

Mom’s voice is high-pitched and panicked. “Nash. Honey? Why are those trashy sports sites saying you’re… I mean, why are they reporting about you at all? But saying you’re… married is insanity. Call me. I mean I know it’s bullshit. But call me.”

What. No. This can’t be happening. No.

Christine's message is angry, which tracks for her. She's sick of all the team's shit at this point. "First a surprise baby from Garrison and now you up and marry his sister. I mean fine. It's your business but we shouldn't have been blindsided. Also, why the hell have I never seen you with her? Or a ring on her finger? We'll talk after practice."

And then my dad. “Hey. I don’t know what’s going on but I would like to so you should call me. Now.”

But I don’t call any of them. I google my own name and there it is. A headline on TMZ Sports. ‘Nash Westwood Weds Tenley Garrison in Super-Secret Ceremony.’

I call Tenley.

She answers immediately. “I can’t talk right now.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” I snap. “Why does TMZ think we’re married?”

“Because someone told them,” she snaps back. “And no, I don’t know who.”

"Well, I'm completely fucked!" I start pacing, every nerve in my body is vibrating. I'm so fucking angry.

“That’s too bad. I’m so broken up about that and I would love to listen while you spiral in your misery and find a way to blame me for it,” she says like the snarky bitch she is, “but my parents are on their way here now to disown me, so gotta go! Later hubby.”

“Tenley!”

But she hangs up. Not another word. I do something that surprises even me. I hurl my phone across the room. It hits the polished concrete wall with a sickening bang and lands on the floor, pieces of the screen scatter everywhere. I don’t even fucking care that it’s only three weeks old. How did this get leaked? What a nightmare. I can’t comprehend how this is happening.

I drop my towel, leave it in a heap, storm into my walk-in closet, and throw on clothes. I'm very particular about how I dress, normally, but today I just grab whatever I see first. I'm at my front door shoving my feet into some leather sneakers when the door handle starts to turn. The only person who has a key in the country is Crew so I'm not surprised when his head pops inside. "Hey. I tried calling you but you didn't answer so I thought I would come by and drive you to practice."

“I can drive myself.”

“Dude, you’ve got people to call. Mom, Dad, Charlie.” He clears his throat awkwardly. “And maybe your wife.”

“I broke my phone,” I bark. “And if you use the word wife again, I’m open to the idea of breaking my fist on your jaw.”

“Whoa.” He doesn’t look at all how my brother has looked his entire life. He’s always been so lighthearted his lips are in perpetual smirk-mode. His eyes dance. Now he looks somber and worried. “I told you not to freak out.”

“No one was supposed to know. This is not an actual thing,” I say and the stress in my voice is so thick I’m almost choking on it. “I gotta call Coach and Christine back.”

I run my hands through my hair. I didn’t put any product in it and I’m sure it’s sticking up everywhere. Crew walks over to the sleek teak table by my front door. He grabs my keys and hands them to me. And then, as his phone rings, he hands that to me. I see Mom on the screen and try to hand it back to him. He won’t take it and holds my front door open. “You have to deal with it at some point. Do it while I drive you to the arena.”

Fuck.

For some reason facing my mom with this news is the scariest. Even scarier than my dad and he’s the one who cares about image and endorsement deals and what the league thinks, not her. I take the phone. “Hi. It’s Nash.”

“Good,” she says. “I was hoping Crew had gone to be with you. I wish I could be there.”

“Yeah. He’s taking me to the arena. We have practice and I have to talk to the coach and PR about… well, you know what about.” I sigh as we walk down the hall toward the outdoor staircase that will lead us to the parking out back instead of taking the elevator where the phone signal might cut out.

“Look, I know you don’t do well with being the center of attention for something off the ice,” Mom says, her voice calm and soft. “But remember how many people are on your side. The team will fight this rumor for you. You just lean on your brother and focus on your game.”

Even though I’m more like my dad in personality, I am closer to my mom. She truly believes with all her heart there is no way this is anything more than a wild rumor. “Mom…”

“Honey, I know this is a lot for you, but… wait…” I think the tone of how I said “Mom” has finally reached her brain and the alarm bells have started going off. “Why did you say Mom like that? It’s… it is a rumor, right? It is.”

“It isn’t.” I hold my breath.

“What?”

“It isn’t a rumor.”

“Nash Sebastian Westwood… What the actual fuck?”

I spend most of the ride to the arena on the phone with my mom trying to get her to understand that her level-headed, low-risk, quiet, rule-abiding son decided to get drunk and marry a girl he barely knows and definitely doesn’t even like. Mom is stunned, but thankfully, she doesn’t lecture me or tell me she’s disappointed. I couldn’t handle that right now. I’m not a mama’s boy, but her opinion means a lot to me. Same with my dad, which is why I tell her I can’t speak to him right now. He isn’t as subtle about his feelings as my mom and I can’t handle the thought of his reaction.

She says she will break it to him, and we’ll talk later. Christine is literally standing outside the locker room door as we approach. I hand Crew’s phone back to him. “Go easy on him,” Crew says to her. “It’s his first fuck-up.”

“Yes, I thankfully haven’t had to deal with him since I started here,” Christine replies, folding her arms over her pale pink sweater.

“No. I mean it’s his first fuck-up ever. In life,” Crew says, and I frown, but maybe he’s a bit right. He’s definitely been the brother with more drama. He got married young. It was toxic and went horribly wrong and he ended up almost setting his house on fire.

Christine looks at me like a disappointed schoolteacher. "Let's go, Westwood."

I follow her wordlessly with my shoulders slumped. Because this is the practice facility she doesn’t have a real office here. She’s got a small, windowless nook with a desk and two chairs. She’s only here when there’s a problem. I’m the problem now. She motions for me to sit as she circles her desk and drops into the chair there.

I shake my head. “Can I stand? I’m a little pent up.”

“I would be too if I woke up and realized I forgot to tell… Let’s see… oh, everyone that I was married,” Christine remarks, frowning. She’s a gorgeous woman who oozes confidence. I can see why Tate used to hook up with her.

“It’s not a real marriage.”

“Well, was it a real marriage license?”

“It was, apparently.” I swallow. “But we didn’t mean it.”

Her perfectly sculpted eyebrows lift to the ceiling. Her expression is one of utter disbelief, like I’m a nun telling her I’m pregnant. I feel like that too, honestly. “So you and Tenley Garrison got married but didn’t mean it. Like, you thought you were in love but changed your mind in the light of day? When the vodka wore off?”

“It was tequila and rum, and no. We’ve never had feelings for each other. I mean, not good ones.” I heave out a heavy, embarrassed breath. “We didn’t mean to actually be married. I think we both thought it was, like, a joke.”

“You weren’t even fuck buddies?”

“No. We’re mortal enemies,” I explain and now she looks more confused than ever. “The team has a rule. No fucking teammates’ relatives, remember?”

“Oh yeah, I’ve heard about the rule.” Christine leans back in her chair. “But it’s not exactly set in stone. Ask your brother.”

Right. Crew is dating Liv Garrison who is our teammate Tate's cousin. "I'm not Crew. I follow rules. Every single one of them. And if you forced me to date a teammate's relative, Tenley would be at the bottom of that list. Dead last. Under every teammates' grandmother."

I twist my face up at the thought of messing around with Tenley. I know it looks like I just licked a dirty jock and it makes Christine laugh. “Right. Because Tenley looks like someone, hot young hockey players typically avoid. All that gorgeous blonde hair, long lean body, perky ass, and sex kitten smile… yeah I’d pick a grandma over that too.” She rolls her eyes so hard I almost smile.

“She’s not my type.”

“Because you’re gay?” Christine smirks.

“No. Because she has the personality of a Canada Goose.” She laughs at my reply.

“Well, I have to be honest, I don’t know what to do about this,” Christine tells me as she leans forward in her chair and tucks her hair behind her ears. She starts typing on her laptop. “I’ve been doing this almost ten years and I’ve never had a secret, accidental marriage.”

She turns her laptop screen toward me and I narrow my eyes on it. Filling the screen is a document that I signed. The consensual relationship agreement I filed with HR when Gabby and I started messing around. “And then there’s this.”

“Gabrielle and I aren’t a real thing.”

“So you hate her, like Tenley?”

“No Gabby is great. We were casual is what I mean.” I run my hands through my hair, tugging on the ends like I do when I’m frustrated. “And we haven’t…”

“Been casual?” she assists.

“Yeah. We haven’t been casual together in a months.”

"Yeah, but you've been married… how long?"

“I’m not married,” I argue but she just levels me with a ‘cut the shit’ stare. “It happened in September. Before the season started.”

“So technically you cheated on your wife.”

“No!” I say a little too loudly. Okay, maybe a lot too loudly.

“Westwood?” The voice behind me belongs to Coach. I don’t even have to turn around to know, but I do turn and his face is set in a hard expression. “Care to explain why you’re yelling at the woman who devotes her life to managing your stupidity?”

“Sorry sir,” I say and turn to Christine. “I’m sorry. I’m not frustrated with you. I’m mad at myself.”

"So… where do I find your registry?" Coach asks, stepping fully into the room. He's an ex-player himself and he's held his physique pretty well. So now we're basically filling every inch of space in this tiny room and I'm getting claustrophobic. "Want to send a wedding gift. Or should I just send it to the hospital Jordan Garrison is going to put you in?"

“My dad will likely beat him to the punch. Quite literally.”

“Have you talked to Avery yet?”

“No. My mom is trying to calm him down first.” I swear under my breath.

“So look, the problem with this,” Christine points to her screen, “is that if anyone gets wind of this, you become the cheater in this marriage. You and Gabby signed this four months ago but you were married six months ago.”

“I didn’t know I was married!” I still feel a wave of shame though because, technically, she’s right.

“I get it. But sadly, our ranks aren’t always loyal. Someone could leak this.”

“Also, the last thing we need right now is a divorce scandal,” Coach adds. “Crew filled me in a bit on this marriage, and I get it wasn’t serious, but you need to learn how to make better jokes, Nash.”

“I’ve learned that lesson. Believe me.”

“Anyway, if you get divorced now, it’s all the media will be talking about. Because Tate is on this team too and his sister is bound to be at games,” Coach explains. “And if this paperwork between you and Gabby ever gets out, and you are divorcing, it makes her the other woman. Yeah, it isn’t true, but the media won’t give a shit. Trust me. They loved to fuck with me when I was single and did some stupid shit.”

“Coach has a dick pic that still circulates the puck bunny sites,” Christine announces, and I blink.

"Thanks for that, Christine." Coach frowns and clears his throat. "I hate to say she's right. And we're trying to repeat here, Nash. The world is against us winning back-to-back Cups and we don't need to give them anything to help screw with us. I can't tell you what to do but we'd appreciate it if you stayed married until the playoffs are over."

“What?”

“Come on, you’ve been married all season, what’s a few more weeks?” Christine says with a weak smile. “I mean we’re not saying anything has to change. Except you should probably hold off on your casual time with other women.”

“It’s playoffs. I don’t want a relationship in playoffs.”

“Well, since you’re not really in one it shouldn’t matter if you delay the annulment until the off-season, right?” Coach leaves the room before I can answer because clearly, he doesn’t care what I have to say.

He’s giving me an order. I am not allowed to get divorced.

After he’s gone Christine stands up. “You should rejoin the team and get ready for practice.”

“I can’t guarantee that Tenley will let me stay married.”

“I know. But she’s a hockey kid too. Grew up in a dynasty that rivals yours. She’ll understand.”

I leave her tiny office. I was sweating in the cramped space and now that sweat is starting to chill on my body. I shiver. At least I think it’s from the sweat. It might be from the realization I have to stay married to that hellion Tenley Garrison.