“Don’t touch me.”
The voice carries through the door of the restroom. They must be speaking pretty loudly because Slapshots isn’t a quiet place.
“No.”
What the hell…
“Stop, please.”
I tug the door open. There’s a man standing in the darkened hallway, and it looks like he has someone crowded up against the wall.
“I said no.”
It’s a small voice—a scared voice, and there isn’t a single atom in my body that hesitates to jump into action. I grab the asshole by the back of his shirt, yanking him away from the woman who clearly doesn’t want him in her space and shoving him against the wall, my forearm on his throat.
“Hey! What the fuck?!”
I shove into him just a little harder. “She said no, you dick.”
“Mind your own business.” The asshole tries to push me off him, but it’s no use. I’m bigger and stronger, and it looks like I’ve had about eight drinks less than him.
“Douchebags taking advantage of women is my business.”
“F-Fuck off.” He tries to fight me again, and I strengthen my hold until he chokes out a cough.
I get a sick satisfaction from it, but I don’t give a shit. I’m glad he can’t breathe. I’m sure the woman he was bothering felt the same way with him all up in her face.
“F-F-Fuck y-you.” He barely gets the words out.
“You’re hurting him,” a soft voice says beside me.
“Good.”
Watching the red deepen on his cheeks and the fear grow in his eyes makes me happy. Fuck this guy. Fuck him for hitting on a woman who clearly isn’t interested, and fuck him for trying to touch her when he wasn’t invited to. He deserves to feel the same fear she did.
I barely register someone touching me. It’s a soft touch, light and feathery.
“Greer.”
The single word pulls me from my stupor, and I glance at the woman I just rescued from this asshole. She’s standing next to me now, and it takes me all of two seconds to realize who she is.
“Greer,” she says again softly. “Let him go.”
The soft plea in her voice has me releasing my hold on the asshole. He shoves at me again, but I don’t budge.
“When a woman says no, she means no. You got it?” He doesn’t answer, and I shake him. “Do you fucking got it, prick?”
He sputters out another cough, his air supply dwindling slowly. “I—I got it.”
“Good. Now, you’re going to walk out of this bar and not even look at another woman. Clear?”
He nods several times, his face contorting with pain from the pressure against his throat. I give him one last shove, just for good measure, then let him go. His knees buckle, and he nearly falls to the floor before catching himself on the wall, then stumbling down the hall and back into the light of the bar.
I stare after him, making sure he leaves as instructed. With the number of people and chairs he bumps into, I wonder if he even has his eyes open.
My fists, which have been clenched at my sides since I let him go, relax slightly.
“You could have seriously hurt him.”
I whirl around to the woman standing in the hallway. Her arms are crossed, and her lips are twisted into a disappointed frown.
“That was kind of the plan, something I planned to enjoy, yet you stopped me.”
“Because you could have seriously hurt him.”
“Your point?”
“Your career. Or did you forget about the eight-game heater you’re currently on?”
A grin pulls at my lips, and I cross my arms to match her stance. “You’ve been watching me, huh?”
She rolls her eyes, the ones I know are deep blue. “Not even kind of.”
“Then how do you know we’re on a heater?”
“Um, because I live here, and people talk? For some reason, you have fans.”
“I have fans because I’m a damn good goalie.”
“You’re cocky.”
“I’m good.”
She looks like she wants to argue that one, but she doesn’t. Instead, she drops her arms and turns on her heel, marching back through the bar.
I follow.
She leads me—and I say that in the loosest of terms—to the exact table Hayes was pointing at earlier. So this is the mystery dark-haired woman.
“Stevie!” the blonde says when we stop. “We were just about to come look for you.”
She’s lying, and it’s painful how obvious it is. I bet they didn’t even realize Stevie was missing, which means they had no clue she was about two seconds away from being assaulted.
The woman’s eyes land on me, and they widen. “Oh. I didn’t realize you were…busy.” She grins, then bats her lashes. “Hi, I’m Bianca. It’s nice to meet you.”
I don’t respond because it’s not nice to meet her. Maybe if she gave a shit about her friend and didn’t blatantly lie to her, I’d play nice, but not right now. Not after Stevie just went through what she did.
Stevie doesn’t miss my lack of manners, glaring at me before turning a sweet smile her friends’ way. “I’m sorry. I got…held up.” Her smile falters, and if her friends notice, they don’t indicate it. “It was my daughter, so I need to get going.”
“Aw, so soon?” Bianca pushes her lip out. “Bummer.”
“Such a bummer,” another woman echoes, though she’s not looking at Stevie. Her eyes are on me as she twirls a strand of hair around her fingers…one of which bears a wedding ring.
See? Marriage doesn’t mean shit.
“I’ll walk you out,” I say to Stevie.
Her eyes narrow, telling me she wants to argue with me yet again, but the way her eyes flit toward her friends says she doesn’t want to cause a scene.
“Thank you.”
The words come out forced, and I can’t help but smile.
Stevie slides her coat over her arms, pulling her hair from under the jacket. An aroma of something fruity hits my nose. I can’t quite place my finger on the scent, but whatever it is, I don’t hate it.
“Thanks again for inviting me out,” Stevie says to the blonde.
“Of course. You’ll have to come out with us again sometime.” Her eyes slide to mine, then back to Stevie. “Soon.”
Lady translation: I want all the details.
Too bad for them there won’t be any juicy details. Stevie hates me, and I’m not interested anyway.
“Oh, you dirty, dirty dog, you.” Hayes rests his hand on my shoulder, whispering so only I can hear. “And you said we should stay away.” He grins. “Ladies, lovely to meet you.”
I glance over at Fitz, who shrugs. “We were wondering where you were. He barreled over here, so I figured I’d follow.”
“Remind me to tell Lowell you’re a horrible babysitter.”
“Pfft. My nieces love me.”
“Yeah, that’s clearly because you don’t watch them and let them do whatever they want.”
“So, ladies, how’s your evening going?” Hayes asks, laying the charm on thickly.
“It’s much better now,” the blonde answers, tossing her hair behind her shoulder. “I’m Bianca,” she tells him in that same sultry voice she tried to use on me. This time, it works. Hayes takes the bait like he hasn’t eaten in days.
Jesus. They’re so obvious it’s painful.
I turn my attention back to Stevie, but she’s not there. I look left, I look right.
She’s gone.
“The brunette?” Fitz asks.
“Did you see her?”
He hitches his thumb toward the door. “She left.”
“Fuck,” I mutter. “I gotta—”
“Go,” Fitz finishes for me. “I’ll take care of Hayes.”
I want to tell him given the fact that he let him just waltz back in here, I doubt that, but I don’t. I head for the door, bursting through it in about two seconds. I scan the street to my left, then look right and spot her just a few feet up the sidewalk.
She stands just outside the light of the streetlamp, her own phone illuminating her face as she scrolls through whatever’s on the screen. Her long dark lashes cast a shadow against her cheek. Her jacket may be puffy and bulky and not do any favors for her figure, but her jeans sure as hell do, fitting her like a second skin.
Her dark hair is covering part of her face, but even from here, I can see the lone tear running down her cheek, can hear her sniffle.
I take a step toward her, and her head whips my way at the sound of my shoes against the concrete. She immediately takes a step back into the light, but I notice the way she relaxes when she sees it’s just me.
“What do you want.”
It doesn’t really come out as a question. It’s more like she’s annoyed that I’ve followed her.
“I…” But nothing comes out.
What do I want? Why did I follow her out here?
She lifts her brows in impatience. “Well?”
“I wanted to see that you were okay.”
Her head jerks back in surprise, and I can attest that the feeling is mutual.
My statement is honest, though. I do want to see that she’s okay.
“Oh.” The word is quiet, but I hear it all the same. “I’m fine.”
Her chin wobbles, and another tear slips down her cheek.
I take another step toward her. “Are you sure?”
“I’m fine.” She swipes at her face, rolls her shoulders back, and gives herself a shake, tips her chin up. “I’m fine.”
This time, the words come out stronger. It’s almost like she believes the harder or more she says them, the truer they’ll become.
“Okay.”
“Okay,” she echoes. Another sniffle.
“Do you need a ride home?”
“I got an Uber. It’ll be here in ten minutes.”
“I’ll stay with you, then.”
“You really don’t need to.”
“I’m waiting for my Uber too.”
That’s a lie. I haven’t called for a car, though I do need to. I’m not drunk and didn’t have much, but I don’t want to risk anything.
“So, did you know that guy?”
She shakes her head. “No.”
“Good.” And it is good. I don’t like the idea of her associating with someone like that.
“He was drunk.”
Now it’s me who is surprised. “Your point?”
“I’m just saying…he was drunk.”
“That’s not an excuse to assault someone.”
“I know that.”
“Do you? Because it doesn’t sound like it.”
She glowers at me. “I do know that. I’m just saying maybe he wouldn’t have been so…forward if he wasn’t drunk.”
I snort. “Right. I fucking doubt that. Guy gave me the heebies.”
I shake my head, annoyed she’s defending him but also not trying to blame her. She’s probably in shock, probably trying to rationalize what just happened. I don’t need to pile on her right now.
“I don’t watch you, you know.”
“Hmm?”
“Before, you said I must be watching you. I’m just telling you I don’t.”
“You already said that.”
“And I’m reiterating it. I don’t watch you. My daughter does.”
“Scrawny little shit with braces, right?”
Another glare. “Her name is Macie. She’s obsessed with the Comets.”
“She has good taste, then.”
“She doesn’t like you.”
Now it’s my turn to glare. “That so?”
“She calls you The Jackass.”
I tuck my lips together so she can’t see my smile because, honestly, it’s a good name for me. I am a jackass sometimes. Everyone says so.
“She seems…”
“Careful, Greer. She’s ten, and I will scratch your eyes out.”
I rock back on my heels, impressed by her tenacity. “I was going to say she seems like she’s got some fire in her.”
Stevie lets out a light laugh, a smile curving her lips. “You could say that.”
“Who is her favorite player?”
“I think this week it’s Miller.”
“Miller? Seriously?”
She lifts a shoulder. “He makes her aunt happy.”
I roll my eyes because of course it has to do with love and all that sappy relationship shit. “Miller is an idiot.”
“He truly is sometimes. He asked me yesterday if goose and geese were two different animals.”
“He did not.”
“Oh, he did. I’ve never had secondhand embarrassment so hard in my life.” She shakes her head with a smile. “But he’s sweet too, and he loves my sister so damn much.”
An involuntary groan leaves me, and Stevie doesn’t miss it.
“What was that for?”
“Love.”
“Excuse me?”
“Love.” I lift my hat, running a hand through my hair before putting the cap back on backward. “It’s a crock of shit. The idea of waiting around to find the right person is sickening.”
“Ah.” She nods. “That makes sense now.”
“What makes sense?”
“Well…” She waves her hand in my direction. “You.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning everything. The scowl that never leaves your face and the way you treat people, like you’re uninterested and holding them at arm’s length—the lack of love in your life explains that well.”
“I have love in my life.”
“Who? Because last I checked, you’re single and have never been married.”
“You know, that sounds an awful lot like you’ve looked me up.”
Stevie huffs. “I have not.”
It’s a lie. We both know it.
I just want to know why: why she looked me up, and why she’s lying.
Scratch that—I probably know why she’s lying. She knows I’ll never let her forget it.
“I have love in my life,” I insist again, though I don’t know why. Stevie is nobody to me. I don’t need to convince her I’m not missing something by not being in a relationship.
I already have to convince my mother of that; I don’t need to add someone else to the list. She’s enough to deal with, thank you.
“I’m sure you do.” Her words are the exact opposite of the look on her face. She doesn’t believe me at all.
That’s fine because I don’t believe me either.
Do I have love in my life? If you count the fact that my parents both love me, sure. Other than that…well, no, not really. I like my teammates and would consider them friends, but do I love them? I don’t think so.
So, fine, maybe I don’t have real love in my life. But I’m fine.
I am fine…right?
A car pulls up to the curb, and Stevie steps toward it.
“Wait!” I call out, startling us both.
“What?” she asks, staring up at me with her brows drawn tight together.
“You don’t even know if that’s your Uber.”
She lifts her eyes skyward. “It’s mine.”
“But I ordered one too.” That’s a lie. “It could be mine.”
“It’s not. It’s mine.”
“Says?”
“Um, the app?” The sarcasm drips from her words as she holds her phone my way, and I take a quick look at the information, then check the car in front of us.
It’s her ride.
With a groan, she shakes her head. “I don’t even know why I’m showing you this. I’m leaving now.”
“Can you wait a second?”
A loud sigh falls from her lips. “What.”
She’s clearly annoyed by me. I would be too. Honestly, I don’t even know why I want her to wait; I just do.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
She stares up at me for a moment with her head tipped to the side like she’s studying me. I don’t like being under scrutiny.
“That’s the second time you’ve asked me that. Why do you care so much?”
“Because I’m not a heartless monster.”
She snorts out a laugh. “Sure you’re not.” Her hand lands on the rear door handle. “Can I go now?”
“Yeah, go.” I wave my hand toward the car. “You’re welcome, by the way.”
A pause.
A slow turn my way.
A heated stare.
“Excuse me?”
“I said, you’re welcome. For rescuing you.”
Stevie scoffs, then pulls the door open before leveling me with one last glare I’m sure I’ll bear the burn marks from tomorrow. “Good night, jackass.”
Before I can register what she’s just said, she climbs into the back of the car, which promptly pulls away from the curb, and she disappears down the road. I stand there like an idiot, staring after her for far too many minutes, trying to figure out why I don’t exactly feel great right now.
“Wow.”
I spin on my heel to find Fitzgerald shaking his head at me.
“What?”
“She’s right—you really are a jackass.”
This time…I think I may agree.
