It wasn’t a dream at all.
The door clicks shut behind Ryan and I grab the thing nearest to me, chucking it across the room.
“Fuck!”
The scream echoes off the walls as I shove my hands through my hair.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
I pull at the strands over and over again like I’m trying to pull out some magical fix for this fucked situation. But it doesn’t work.
I need a shower. I need to think, need to clear my head. There has to be some work-around for this.
I head into the bathroom, and just as I flip on the water, there’s a pounding on the door.
I sigh, already knowing who it is.
I ignore him too.
“Dammit, Rhodes, I know you’re in there! Open the fucking door!”
He pounds on it, sounding like the police trying to break it down.
I switch off the water, not ready to face the music but needing to anyway. The last thing I want to deal with on top of everything else is security coming up here and busting my ass with a noise complaint.
I don’t bother putting clothes on before pulling open the door to find a scowling Collin on the other side, hand raised, ready to pound again.
He narrows his eyes. “Tell me it’s a joke.”
Ignoring him, I turn on my heel, leaving him standing in the doorway staring after me.
He sighs, then follows me into the room. I bet if he could, he’d slam the door. He just stands there, hands on his hips like a grumpy old dad disappointed in his son, and that’s so much worse than the door slamming.
I’m disappointed in myself too.
I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and twist open the cap, bringing it to my lips and chugging half of it in one go.
He continues to stand there staring at me, brows drawn tightly together.
I hold eye contact as I finish off the rest of the bottle, then crumple it up and toss it to the side.
“What?” I finally ask.
He shakes his head, scoffing. “I can’t believe you. I cannot fucking believe you.”
I can’t believe me either. It wasn’t exactly my finest moment.
“Why? How?”
I lift my shoulders. “It sounded like a good idea at the time.”
“It sounded like a good idea at the time? That’s the best you have?”
“Yes.”
“Whose idea was it?”
“Both.”
“Both of you? How? You were sober when you left with her and there is no way a sober you would have made that decision. I know you.”
He’s right. I wouldn’t have.
“I was drunk.”
“Is that even legal?”
“Highly doubt it, but…”
He cringes, and I know he’s already seen the video too.
He nods a few times, understanding just how fucked up this whole situation is. He scrubs a hand over his face.
“I assume you saw the photo and that’s what sparked this.” It’s not a question, more of a statement.
“Unfortunately.”
When I saw the photo of Brittney and her engagement ring, I was hurt. But I was even more shocked when I realized it was my own former teammate in the photo with her.
I had no idea they even knew each other, though I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised. Colter isn’t the greatest guy out there. He has two baby mamas he hardly ever talks to, and last year he did nothing but pick fights with just about everyone on the team. I think nearly everyone breathed a sigh of relief when the Comets traded him earlier this summer.
“Colter is such a fucking piece of shit, and Brittney is…well, she’s Brittney. Of course she’d do this to you.”
Collin hated Brittney from the moment he met her, and I think it’s safe to say he was right in his initial displeasure. He tried to warn me away several times, claimed she was never in it like I was and just wanted my money and the clout of dating a “celebrity.” I dismissed him every time because I thought for sure one day we’d get over the back-and-forth of our off-and-on relationship and settle down.
Maybe if I had listened to him, I wouldn’t be in this mess.
He doesn’t understand though. It’s easy for him to put himself out there. Sure, we both play pro hockey, so we have that going for us, but for me, it’s more complicated than walking up to a hot chick and going, “Wanna see my hockey stick?”
Before my injury, I used to be confident, even a little cocky. Now? This scar is the first thing everyone sees when they look at me, and the first thing I see is the sympathy in their eyes.
You always think having a scar from doing something badass would be fun, but I promise you it gets old quickly. The story gets old. The pitying looks get old. The recommendations of scar creams get old.
Collin…he doesn’t know what that’s like. He doesn’t understand how hard it is to get somebody to look at me like I’m more than my scar. To find someone who isn’t bothered by it and isn’t embarrassed to be seen with me in public or pictures.
Brittney never cared about it. Or at least I didn’t think she cared.
But going by the dude she had her arm wrapped around in the photo, she wasn’t looking to settle down with an ugly guy like me.
Ryan, though, I know she doesn’t care.
“I like your scar,” she says, the smell of tequila hitting my nose. “It makes you look distinguished.”
“I think you mean disfigured!” I shout over the loud music of the club. We’ve each had about four shots in the last hour, and I feel looser than I have in a long damn time.
She grabs my chin and pulls my face to hers, her green eyes that I’m really starting to like boring into me. “You’re beautiful, Rhodes. Not despite your scar, but because of it.”
It was the first time someone had ever called me beautiful.
I’m sure she didn’t mean it. I mean, hell, she was three sheets to the wind.
But still…it meant something.
“What are you going to do?”
“What can I do? It’s already out there. You know better than anyone how the internet is.”
The year before last, we blew our chances at the Cup in the finals. Collin really blamed himself for what happened. After a night out at the bar turned into a brawl, it was Collin who paid the price. He was arrested for assault, and his name and mugshot were plastered all over the media. They dug deep into his past and found out he’d been arrested as a teenager too. It was a shitshow. The charges were eventually dropped, but the damage to his reputation was done. He spent the entirety of this past season rebuilding everything he had worked so hard for.
There’s no way I can start this season with a similar cloud of chaos hanging over my head, and announcing an annulment after a crazy weekend in Vegas is exactly what that would be.
It isn’t just about me. It would look bad on the organization and people would assume they can’t keep their players in check. I don’t want to be that guy who brings negative attention to the team.
“Think Coach is going to be pissed at me?”
“Coach? Think the entire fucking organization. Dealing with him was a cakewalk compared to that mess.”
It’s true. I remember hell raining down on Collin.
If you ask me, the media really screwed him over. His first arrest as a teen was for protecting his younger brother after some idiots were bullying him for being gay. His second arrest was for standing up to a drunken idiot putting his hands on a woman. He should have been hailed a hero, not a villain.
Needing more water, I reach back into the mini fridge, pop open yet another bottle of overpriced water, and guzzle it down.
I drag the back of my hand over my mouth.
“Getting drunk married, man? Really?”
Fuck me if that bile doesn’t sting the back of my throat again.
I force it down once more and reach for my third bottle of water. I’m thirsty as fuck and need something to do with my hands before I punch a hole in the wall and have to pay for that too.
I can feel Collin’s gaze on me the entire time.
“You can’t annul it. It’ll look bad on you both.”
“I know.”
I crumple the empty water bottle and toss it toward the others and then start hunting for my clothes.
This place is a wreck, and there’s no doubt I’ll be paying for the broken lamp—courtesy of Ryan’s stilettos that she slung off without a care in her haste to undress—in the corner.
I doubt she remembers that either.
“You can’t say it was just a joke because those records are going to be out there, and they will find them.”
“I know.”
“You can’t—”
“For fuck’s sake, I know! Do you think I haven’t run everything through my head over and over again? I hardly slept last night because I was up worried and trying to figure out how in the hell I’m going to fix this. So save whatever bullshit you’re about to spew for later.”
He doesn’t back away. Doesn’t drop my heated stare.
All he does is stand there.
“Collin…” I pinch the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger. “I fucking swear, I am about five seconds away from hitting you.”
He sighs, then rubs his hand across the back of his neck, no doubt kneading away the tension bunching there. “I’m sorry, I just… She’s Harper’s best friend, you know? I feel protective of her.”
I nod because I get where he’s coming from. I’ve been feeling the same thing since the reality of this whole thing hit me. Ridiculous because we’ve only been married since last night.
“Are you going to stay married to her?”
I gulp back the lump that’s formed in my throat because I don’t have an answer to his question that’s a good one.
There’s a part of me that wants to stay married for the ease of it. I won’t have to deal with the organization breathing down my neck or my parents’ disappointment.
And in the very back of my mind, there’s a small part of me that’s scared this will be my only shot at marriage.
I know I’m not a catch. Sure, I have the pro-hockey-player thing, but that’s it. I don’t have looks. I don’t have charisma. Most times, I’m an outright dick.
So, this? It could be my only chance.
I run a hand through my hair.
Fuck. I sound so soft right now. And crazy. Completely certifiable.
We can’t stay married. There’s no way…right?
“Rhodes?” he prompts again.
I blow out a long breath. “I don’t know, man. I don’t fucking know. Guess it’s time I talk to my wife.”
