Page 27 of What If I Hate You (Anaheim Stars Hockey #6)
CHAPTER NINETEEN
BARRETT
Me
SOS! I need help!
F rustration practically seeps from my pores as I hastily throw on some clothes and absentmindedly drop a spoonful of food into Killer’s bowl.
It’s been three days. Three long, agonizing days off in a row thanks to the major hurricane currently battering the east coast. Three days of cancelled games equals three days that could have been spent balls deep inside the intoxicating allure of Blakely Rivers, savoring every inch of her captivating presence.
Yet, instead, it’s been three endless days of isolation and solitary workouts, where I’m tormented by my own feelings.
And now I’m at my wit’s end.
I know I need help, but the thought of reaching out for reinforcement fills me with dread.
It means I’ll have to open up to my teammates, lay my vulnerability bare, and that’s not who I am.
I’m not the one who wears his heart on his sleeve like Ledger, nor am I the jokester like Griffin.
I’m the grumpy one, the guy who would rather sit in his own shit, suffering in silence, than ask for assistance.
But sleep has been elusive, and the absence of Blakely’s texts or visits gnaws at me.
I miss her more than I care to admit. Whatever went wrong between us shouldn’t have ended the way it did, and I’m torn about what to do.
I need to act, to somehow mend what cracked, yet the fear of exposing my vulnerability holds me back.
Still, the thought of letting this chance slip through my fingers is unbearable, hence the text message to the guys.
Harrison
What’s up Teddy Bear?
Me
I need to…uh…talk. And I’m starving. Harold’s for lunch?
Ledger
Finishing up a workout. Can meet you there. May or may not have one of the babies with me.
Griffin
*Yawns* I guess I better put some pants on.
Me
Is Layken with you, Griff?
Griffin
Why do you think I’m not wearing pants bro?
Me
Good I need her too. And Marlee and Ella. Actually, bring all the ladies if they’re available.
Bodhi
Corri’s at the hospital. Sorry man.
Oliver
Scarlett’s with me. We’ll be there in a few.
August
This must have something to do with one Blakely Rivers, huh?
Me
Something like that.
I step into Harold's Hot Dog Diner, the smell of grilled meat and deep-fried everything hitting me like a wall.
The place is a dive, but it's our nostalgic dive. Wood-paneled walls plastered with local sports memorabilia, checkered tablecloths that have seen better decades, and Harold himself, a kindly seventy-something who likes to slide extra fries onto our plates because to him we’re still “growing boys.”
The guys are already here, sprawled across two pushed-together tables in the back corner.
I spot Harrison first, then Ledger with his baby daughter strapped to his chest in one of those ridiculous carrier things.
Griffin's got his arm slung around Layken, who's mid-laugh.
Marlee and Ella are huddled together, heads bent over a phone, probably plotting world domination or some shit.
My stomach knots as I slide into the booth alongside Harrison. I glance across from me at a narrow-eyed Layken who greets me with a stern, “You’ve got that ‘I-fucked-up-and-don’t-know-what-to-do-about-it’ look on your face.”
I want to slide right back out of the booth as soon as I hear Layken's assessment. She's sharp as a fucking skate blade and twice as dangerous when she's in protective mode.
"I don't know what you're talking about," I mutter, but everyone at the table gives me the same knowing look. Even Harold himself shoots me a sympathetic glance as he drops off a basket of fries without me ordering them.
"Bullshit," Griffin says cheerfully, stealing a fry from August's plate. "You texted SOS and asked for all the ladies to be here. This is about Rivers."
All eyes turn to me, and I feel my jaw clench reflexively. This was a mistake. I should've just suffered in silence like I always do.
"You know what I don’t understand,” Marlee starts, her tone neutral but her eyes calculating.
“Is how the last time I spoke with Blakely, she was laying next to you in your bed having spent the night with you and now, I haven’t heard from her in three days other than the words ‘I’m fine’ repeated back to me every time I check on her. ”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Harrison sits up straighter and glances around the table at everyone’s non-shocked expressions and then his shoulders fall. “Oh, so I’m the only dumbass who didn’t know Bear slept with Blakely?”
“Sorry man,” Griffin says with a slight cringe. “The ladies…you know. They do their lady thing so I guess that’s how we know.”
“Right. Another reminder that I’m single. Wonderful.” He shoves a fry into his mouth and then sighs loudly. “Continue.”
I grab a fry from my plate as well, to buy myself time. My throat feels tight, like I'm about to confess to a crime. In a way, I am. The crime of being a complete and utter jackass to the one woman who's gotten under my skin.
"So," Harrison says beside me, "you going to tell us what's got you looking like someone ran over your favorite hockey stick, or are we supposed to guess?"
I glance around the table, suddenly aware of how many eyes are on me. This is exactly what I was dreading. Being the center of attention for all the wrong reasons. Vulnerability isn't my strong suit.
"Look, I messed up, okay?" I finally blurt out, the words rushing past my defenses before I can stop them. "I got in my own damn head, and I pushed her away."
The table goes quiet, and I can feel my neck heating up. This is exactly why I don't do vulnerability. It feels like being stripped naked in front of a firing squad.
"What exactly happened?" Ella asks, her voice gentler than I expected.
I drag my hand down my face. "We had this… moment. After that asshole Mercer was a dick to her in the press room. I found her crying in the bathroom and?—"
"Wait, Blakely was crying?" Marlee interrupts, her eyebrows shooting up. "She never cries."
"Yeah, well, she was," I mutter, the memory still raw. "I watched the interview. I knew it was bad. I could see it all over her face so I went to find her. I took her back to my place to let her meet Killer and?—”
“Killer?” August asks shoving a fry into his mouth. “Who the fuck is Killer?”
Griffin steals a fry from the basket in the middle of the table. “Yeah bro, is Killer code for like some huge ass dildo because Layken has this rainbow colored?—”
Layken’s hand flies to Griffin’s mouth before he can finish but August is already giggling. “Layken has an ass dildo?”
“Oh, my God!” She laughs, shaking her head. “ I do not have an ass dildo, thank you very much. Sorry Bear. Continue.”
“Killer is my kitten,” I explain to the group. “I rescued him from outside a while back.”
“You have a cat?” Harrison’s mouth falls open. “How the hell did we not know this?”
I shrug and reply deadpan, “Because you didn’t ask. Can I continue?”
“Okay so you showed Blakely your secret little kitten,” Ella recounts. “Then what?”
I shift uncomfortably in my seat. "We talked. Like, really talked. I told her about where I'm from, a little about my past. Where I spend my free time. Who I donate to. All of it."
"Whoa," Oliver whispers. "You never tell anyone about that."
"I know," I grumble, grabbing another fry. "But she was in my apartment asking me why I live so plainly when I have all this money to my name. I just felt like she deserved to know the truth. And she seemed to respect it. And then one thing led to another and we… you know."
"Fucked on your kitchen floor?" Layken supplies helpfully.
I choke on my fry and my face burns as the guys let out low whistles and chuckles. "Jesus Christ," I scrub a hand over my face. "Is nothing private?"
"Not when it comes to girl talk," Marlee says with a shrug.
“But please for the love of God, tell me you did not kick her out after she spent the night with you."
"I didn't kick her out," I protest weakly. "I just… gave her an out."
"An out?" Ella repeats, her voice rising. "What does that even mean?"
I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of all their stares. "Look, I panicked, alright? I woke up with her in my arms, and it felt… it felt too good. Too right. And that scared the shit out of me. And then she mentioned work so I assumed she wanted to leave."
“But what are you afraid of?” Scarlett finally jumps in after listening to my story.
“Every goddamn thing!” I run my hand through my hair, tugging at the roots in frustration.
“I’m afraid of the fact I've spent months pretending to hate her when really I've been losing my mind over her.
About what it means for both our careers if this gets out.
Especially hers. I've never felt this way about anyone before and it fucking terrifies me. "
The words tumble out before I can stop them, and a heavy silence falls over the table. Even baby Juniper, strapped to Ledger's chest, seems to pause her gurgling to stare.
"I don't know what to do," I admit, slumping back against the booth. "I've never been in this position before."
Layken leans forward, her eyes narrowing with the precision of a sniper. "You know what your problem is, Cunningham? You're scared of the one thing in your life you can't control with a hockey stick."
"Which is?" I challenge, though I already know the answer.
"Love, you idiot," she says bluntly. "You're falling for her, and instead of admitting it, you pushed her away."
The word hits me like a slap. Love. Is that what this is? This constant, gnawing ache in my chest whenever I think about Blakely? This need to see her smile, to hear her laugh, to be the one who protects her? Is that what love is?
"I'm not—" I start, but Harrison cuts me off with a snort.
"Don't even try to deny it, Teddy Bear. We've all seen how you look at her when you think no one's watching."
I feel like I've been checked into the boards.
Is it that obvious?