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CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Dozer

I fucked up. I fucked up big time.

Marissa’s avoiding me.

She raced out of here the other night like a bat out of hell. She wouldn’t answer my texts that night. And I haven’t seen or heard from her since.

I hate it.

The anxiety of waiting for her to respond has me wanting to crawl out of my own skin.

I keep staring at my phone, willing her to respond, but she never does. I’ve typed and deleted so many text messages. I want so badly to call her, text her, go to her door and bang on it until she answers, but I also don’t want to be a stalker.

“You look like you’re trying to bend your phone in half with your mind,” Bouchard says, slapping me on the shoulder before taking his own seat at the locker next to mine after morning skate.

Sighing, I toss my phone on my bag and finish dressing to leave. “Just hoping to hear back from someone.”

His eyebrows jump. “Ohhh. Anyone special?”

“Fuck off.”

He cackles. “I’ll take that as a yes. Is it that chick you brought to Thanksgiving? What’d you do? Leave the toilet seat up? Chicks hate that shit, man. You gotta do better. With a woman like that, you need to bring your A game.”

“I thought I told you to fuck off,” I mutter.

“Dozer!” Abernathy calls from a few feet away. “Quit hassling Bouchard.”

Turning, I hold out my arms in protest. “He’s the one hassling me!”

Nick arches an eyebrow. “And yet you’re the one cussing at him.”

“Cause he won’t leave me alone!”

After studying me for a second, Nick jerks his head. “Come on, man. Walk with me.”

Bouchard lets out an, “Ooooh,” like I’m a kid at school getting called to the principal’s office, and a couple of the new guys join in, laughing and generally acting like assholes.

I grumble to myself, muttering, “I don’t have the time or energy for this shit.”

“And that’s exactly why we need to have a chat,” Nick says quietly as he falls in step beside me on the way out. “What’s up, Dozer? You’re not usually this pissy.”

Leave it to Nick to cut right to the chase.

I stop in the hallway, and he stops too, turning to face me, waiting patiently with his hands in his jacket pockets, his face bland and nonjudgmental. He might’ve busted my balls a little in the locker room, but I know that was more for the benefit of the others. His way of showing that bad attitudes won’t be tolerated in the locker room, and that he, as captain, sees it as his job to make sure we’re all in fighting shape mentally as well as physically.

When I don’t say anything right away, he shrugs and jerks his head toward the door. “Wanna walk while we talk? Or should we just head to my place?”

I shake my head. “You don’t want me around Tina and the kids like this. You’re right. I am pissy.”

He lets out a bark of laughter. “Glad you can acknowledge it at least. Care to tell me why? The only time I see you this way is when …” He trails off, glancing at me, understanding on his face. “I thought you said you weren’t going to date for a while. I seem to remember you throwing around time frames—six months minimum? Maybe a year?” He tilts his head to one side. “I guess we’re nearing the six month mark, but c’mon, man. The point was to avoid the bloodsuckers who only want you for the paycheck. No more hobosexuals, Dozer!”

A rueful chuckle escapes me at the oblique reference to Jenny. “It’s not like that, man.”

“Then what’s it like. I can’t help if you won’t talk to me.”

I shake my head, waiting until we’re on the sidewalk, both of us turning up our collars against the drizzle. After another sigh, I finally mutter, “I kissed her.”

He turns his head sharply, studying me, waiting for me to continue.

“The other night, Marissa came over. We watched a movie and had a few beers. We ended up cuddling. At the end, I kissed her. It was barely more than a peck, but then she ran like demons were chasing her, and she hasn’t spoken to me since.”

He’s quiet a long moment, both of us walking side by side, occasionally shifting to let people going the other direction pass by. Finally, he stops under an overhang and looks at me. “What did you say?”

“Were you not listening?” My voice gets louder now. I know I was kind of muttering before, but I didn’t think I was that quiet. “I. Kissed. Marissa.”

He waves a hand like he’s trying to dispel a stinky fart. “No, I know that. What did you say to her ? After the kiss. What did you do? How did you act? Did you pull out your dick and flap it around or something?”

That visual startles a laugh out of me. “Fuck, man. No. You know I’m not like that.” He just shrugs in response. “Fuck you. I’m not.” I shake my head, thinking back to that night. “I didn’t even get a chance to say anything. We kissed, then after the kiss, she got up, put on her shoes as fast as she could and raced for the door.”

Nick’s eyebrows lift a centimeter, the tiniest tell that he doesn’t quite believe me.

“I’m serious! That’s what happened. I tried to get her to talk to me. But all I got out was her name, and then she was out the door and gone. I texted her that night, but she still hasn’t responded. I’ve been holding myself back from blowing up her phone because I don’t think that’s the right play, though god knows I want to.”

He nods, crossing his arms. “Yeah, the ball’s in her court as far as that goes.”

That’s not what I was hoping he’d say. “What should I do?”

He blows out a breath, looking off into the distance. “You should come home with me,” he declares after a moment.

“I just told you?—”

He cuts me off with another wave of his hand. “I know you’re pissy. But I think Tina’s your best chance of coming up with a plan to fix this. I’ll distract the kids. You talk to my wife.”

An hour later, true to his word, Nick’s got the kids off playing in another room, occasional squeals and peels of laughter reaching Tina and I in the kitchen.

“Okay,” she says, settling herself into one of the plush stools at their breakfast bar. She slides a plate of cookies closer to me and takes a sip out of her mug. “Nick didn’t say much—just that you’re having problems with a woman.” Her tone drips with as much disapproval as her expression.

I hold up my hands. “It’s not what you think.” That makes her raise an eyebrow, an eloquent expression of disbelief. “It’s not!” I protest again.

Smiling indulgently, she leans over and pats my arm. “Okay. Then tell me what it is.”

“It’s about Marissa,” I start, and before I can get any more words out, she’s already nodding sagely.

“Good.” She lifts her mug in a silent toast. “I like her. She’s good for you.”

Letting out a rueful chuckle, I shake my head. “I’m not sure she’d agree with you.”

Another eyebrow raise. “What happened?” It’s a question, but she says it in a flat tone, clearly waiting for a list of my fuckups.

“That’s the thing. I don’t really know.” I fill her in about the kiss and Marissa’s subsequent Road Runner impression.

Tina narrows her eyes at me. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

I shake my head. “I swear I’m not. We kissed. She ran. And now she won’t return my texts.” I sip my coffee, shaking my head slowly as I swallow, replaying that night for the millionth time in my head. “I honestly don’t know what I did, Tina. Other than kissing her. But she kissed me back. It’s not like I held her down and forced it on her.”

“God, no,” Tina bursts out, coming to my defense against the imaginary accusations. “I know that. You’re a lot of things, Dozer”—she points a long, hot pink fingernail at me—“but you’re a good guy. A little dense sometimes, but good.”

“Uh … thanks?”

“You’re welcome.” She flashes me a grin.

Tina’s brow furrows, and she taps her nails rhythmically against the side of her mug as she thinks. I do my best to sit still and keep my mouth shut—other than the occasional sip of coffee or bite of cookie—desperately wanting to ask what she’s thinking but knowing I need to be patient.

The problem is, I have a hard time being patient. I’m the kind of guy who likes to form a plan and act on it. But I have no plan. My only plan so far has been waiting for Marissa to respond, which isn’t exactly full of action as plans go. And it isn’t working so well. My already thin patience is stretched to its limit, and waiting for Tina just might break it entirely.

I do my best to stay still, to seem like the embodiment of patience itself, but I end up sliding forward so my foot can reach the floor and start jiggling my leg while I wait.

When Tina finally looks at me again, she lets out a soft laugh. “Oh, you poor thing. You’re really all tied up about her, aren’t you?” She tilts her head and squints. “And here I thought you were taking a break from dating.”

Letting go of my mug, I throw my hands in the air. “I am! I was!”

She arches an eyebrow yet again. “Oh? Is that why you’re kissing Marissa? Your ‘we’re just friends’ guest to Thanksgiving?” She holds up her hands to make scare quotes around the just friends part.

“We are just friends!”

She straightens, barking out a laugh. “Do you go around kissing all your friends? Or is that reserved specifically for Marissa?”

Planting my elbows on the counter, I drop my head into my hands, scrubbing my fingertips through my hair. “God, this is so fucked up. No wonder she ran off. We’re supposed to just be friends. And even if she did kiss me back”—I straighten up and point at Tina—“and she did! But it must’ve spooked her as much as it spooked me.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Tina mutters, slouching against the back of her stool and turning to face me. “You were spooked? What does that mean? What did you do? How did you act?”

I throw my hands up again. “I already told you! I didn’t do anything! We kissed. It was short and sweet.” I try not to get distracted by the memory of that kiss, of the way her lips felt against mine—warm and soft, just the right amount of pressure, inviting me to explore more before I realized I was kissing Marissa , the woman I’d repeatedly assured that I didn’t have any interest in a relationship. “Fuck me,” I mutter, once again dropping my head in my hands. “I didn’t do anything terrible other than kiss her. She knows I’m all fucked up from my past relationships.” Tina snorts at my use of the word relationships, but I ignore her. “She knows I don’t want a girlfriend right now. I’ve said that so many times before.” I straighten up. “And she doesn’t want to date either!” I toss at Tina, as though she lodged that accusation. “But I know when she does decide to date again, she wants a relationship. A real one. Not a fuck buddy, and definitely not a situationship. She’s had her fill of those already.” I can’t quite say the same, since all the women I’ve been sleeping with definitely wanted our relationship to be official. But it was because they wanted the prestige and money that came with it, or at least that they expected to come with it.

Tina presses her lips together again, staring at the wall as she thinks. “That does make things more complicated. I knew you were trying to take time away from dating”—she spears me with a look—“which is the smartest choice you’ve made about women since I’ve known you.” Waving a hand, she dismisses that comment. “Realistically, though, you like Marissa. And you like her as more than a friend. Right?”

Sighing, I sit back in my seat and run a hand over my face. “I mean … I guess so. I’ve been trying so hard for so long to keep her in the friend box?—”

“Would you call it ‘the friend zone?’” Tina asks, giving me a sly look, her mouth curled in a partially suppressed smile.

In response, I shoot her a glare and keep talking. “I’ve been trying to convince myself she’s just a friend—that I don’t want more than that—for so long that admitting to myself I’d prefer more is difficult. But I mean, obviously I wouldn’t have kissed her if I wasn’t attracted to her. I like her. A lot. I like her as a person. I like having her as a friend.”

“But you wouldn’t say no to more?”

I nod miserably.

“If that weren’t an option, if friendship is all she’s willing to offer, are you okay with that?” I open my mouth to answer—the yes coming without having to even think about it because of course I want to have Marissa in my life in whatever capacity she wants—but Tina holds up a hand. “Seriously, Dozer. Stop and think about it. If she’s not attracted to you. If she doesn’t want to date you. You’re fine with that for now, sure, while she’s not dating anyone else. But what if she does? What if she meets someone and starts dating him? Will you be okay with that? Will you be able to hear about how happy she is without getting jealous? Will you be able to listen to her complain about him if things go sour without trying to put yourself in the mix again, shoot your shot, so to speak? Because sure, while you’re both single, you can play-act as friends while spending all your free time together like you’re actually dating minus the kissing and sex. And while your moratorium on dating so you can get your head on straight and figure out how to have a successful relationship is a good plan, I know you wouldn’t have gone all in with those other women if you weren’t genuinely wanting a real relationship someday. Taking time to reflect and work on yourself is good, but that doesn’t mean you have to be a monk for the rest of your life.”

Pursing my lips, I consider what she’s saying. Will I be okay with only ever having Marissa as a friend? If she doesn’t see me as more than that at all?

“The thing is, since neither she nor I are actively pursuing dating right now, I’d have time to come to terms with all of that before it happens, wouldn’t I? And just because I like her and am attracted to her doesn’t mean I couldn’t pursue someone else when the time is right. Hell, maybe I’ll take a page out of Easton’s playbook and wait until I’m retired. Find myself a chick who doesn’t know anything about hockey—and therefore doesn’t know that I’m supposed to be famous—and be happy.” Of course, Marissa didn’t know anything about hockey when we met. She didn’t know I’m famous either.

Tina grins, her expression going soft as she thinks back to our group trip this summer where Troy Easton met Anna and fell hard and fast. “She’s good for him,” Tina murmurs. “And he seems to be doing well in Arcadian Falls. He’s making plans to start a youth hockey league there. Has he reached out to you about it?”

That piques my interest, distracting me from my own ridiculous problems. “No, he hasn’t. I take it he’s talked to Nick?”

Tina nods. “I’ll have Nick tell him that you’re interested in helping too when the time comes.”

“Yeah, for sure. I’d love to. I’ll text him myself, too, so he knows I’m serious.”

“Good idea. But back to Marissa …” I blow out a breath, waiting as she drains the rest of her tea. “I know it’s not what you want to hear, but I’d give her more time. Don’t call or text. Your instinct there is good. You don’t want to seem crazy. Don’t seek her out, because that’s creepy, but if you happen to bump into her …” I sit up straighter at those words. She shrugs. “Be polite. Be respectful. Act happy to see her. Try to get her to engage in normal conversation. If you can get her to talk to you at all about anything else, it’ll hopefully give you a way in that you can use to get back to your normal relationship. Or at least something better than the radio silence you’re getting now.”

I blow out a breath and nod. “Thanks, Tina. That seems like a good plan. I think I can do that.”

I hope so, anyway.