I LAY on the couch in the dark. What a fucking day. I was so out of my depth with Zoey, it wasn’t even funny. What did I even know about her? She was a mixture of sullen mystery and secrecy. Pulling facts out of her was like pulling teeth, but when she told me something, I believed her.
There was no way she did drugs. And I bought her story about the diner, although the thought of her heading there, late at night, because the waitresses were nice, cut me up. When had her parents died? Didn’t she have any other family? How would we get her up and back on her feet? Did helping her make her my responsibility?
Krista was right. I didn’t do distractions and Zoey was practically a full-time job.
Why had I insisted she stay here? When she told me she was leaving, I could have easily given her some cash and let her fend for herself. But I knew if I did, I would just wonder how she was doing. She might as well stay here.
When I had ripped her shirt off her, I had gotten a glimpse of the level of abuse she had endured. Bruises covered her slight body. I had taken three hits to the face, and it had throbbed all day. She looked like someone had shit-kicked her with steel-toe boots. That, along with her face and a sprained shoulder, I had no idea how she wasn’t in the fetal position, screaming for more drugs. She was tougher than any guy I played hockey with. Her pain tolerance was almost scary. But despite it all, she remained feisty and tough. She had my respect.
Tomorrow we would get sorted out. I would go back to focusing on the Wolves and she could do whatever she needed to do to get back on her feet. I would talk to Krista about helping her replace her ID. Maybe I could open a bank account for her so she felt less dependent on me.
I WOKE UP WHEN A SOFT, warm body landed on me.
“What the fuck?” I opened my eyes, as tiny hands pushed against me, scrambling to get away.
I put my hands on her waist and physically lifted her off me. She screamed in fright, her good arm pathetically smacking against my shoulder.
I sat up, as I lifted her back to her feet, careful not to hurt her. I reached to the coffee table and flipped on the lamp.
She clutched her towel to her body and her one good eye was wide with fright.
“Zoey,” I felt dazed. “What are you doing?”
“Why aren’t you in your own bed?” her voice quivered and her entire body trembled. I recognized sheer adrenaline and fear.
“You took over my bed.”
“Just for a nap.”
“I thought you knew I took the couch.”
She looked wildly around. “This was a mistake. I’m leaving.”
“Zoey.”
She backed up, almost tripping over herself. “Stay away from me.”
“Zoey,” I kept my voice low, speaking to her like I would a hurt animal. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I gave you my bedroom, so you had more privacy.”
She froze and looked at me. “Who even does that? What is your game? What do you want from me?”
“Nothing.” I held up my hands. “Absolutely nothing.”
She backed away from me, swallowing convulsively.
“Zoey,” I soothed. “Just go to the bedroom. There is a lock on the door. Go to sleep.”
A slow tear ran down one cheek. And then she turned and ran to the bedroom. The sound of the door locking sounded through the entire apartment.
I lay back on the couch and stared at the ceiling.
Fuck. What a fucking mess.
WHEN I WOKE UP, there was no sound from the bedroom. I pulled on my clothes from the night before. After last night’s fiasco, there was no way I would try to get clean clothes from my room.
I sat on the couch and rubbed my face. This sleeping arrangement would not work. Not even short-term. I stood up and looked around the apartment. It was huge. A big open concept space with high ceilings. I had almost no furniture, save my couch and TV and my bed in the bedroom. I had two other spare bedrooms. Boxes stacked in my dining room area. Another empty room which they termed a den/office. Thanks to Krista, this was the nicest apartment I had ever lived in, yet I resisted making this my home. It had been over two months since I had arrived in Vancouver, and I had barely unpacked the essentials.
I missed my boys. The guys from my old team. I had been shit scared when I got drafted to the NHL as a rookie player but those guys welcomed me with open arms. They had become my best friends. They always had my back. They looked out for me like I looked out for them. I stood up for two of them when they got married, and I drove another guy to the hospital, when his wife was in labor.
Vancouver felt cold. Even though I had been in practice with the Wolves for two months and we had already played two exhibition games together, I didn’t know most of my teammates, other than their playing style. No one talked to me. I hadn’t made a single friend. I was the team outcast. I didn’t like it, but worse, I had no idea how to fix it.
Besides Krista, Zoey was the only other person I talked to. Wasn’t it obvious why I didn’t want to unpack or get too comfortable here? This place didn’t feel like home and to my immense shame, it felt like I was just biding my time until I could move on.
At the rate I was going, I wasn’t even sure I would last the season. Jensen was doing his best to create a lot of dissension on the team. That kind of behavior was like acid. It burned through everything good and created unfixable problems on the ice. And now Mark and Gordon had bumped me up to a leadership position, which put me in an almost impossible situation. Usually, the assistant captains and the captain had a strong working relationship. Together they worked as a team to bring up the rest of the players. Making me an assistant when Jensen was the other assistant had been a huge mistake.
Now I had Zoey to worry about. When was the last time the girl had any privacy? How long had she been sleeping in shelters? I had never even been to a shelter, but I had a vision of Zoey huddled on a cot, surrounded by rows and rows of sleeping men. The thought made my skin crawl. If I could offer her a respite from her life, I would. I could clear out one of these bedrooms and put in some furniture for her. I would put a lock on the door and give her some much-needed peace of mind.
“Hey,” a soft voice spoke from behind me.
I turned. Zoey stood there, swimming in one of my t-shirts and those scrub pants. She crossed her arms over her chest. Her face looked less swollen. Her eye, if we iced it, would probably open in the next day or two.
“How are you feeling?”
She crossed and recrossed her arms. “Sorry I freaked out last night.”
“Sorry I scared you.”
Her chin jutted out. “You just surprised me, that’s all.”
Tough girl was back. “Probably not as much as you surprised me.”
A ghost of a smile graced her lips. “What are you doing?”
“Just thinking about furniture.”
“For this room?”
“For this apartment.”
She moved closer into the room and her fingers traced the edge of a box. “Yeah, you could probably use a few more chairs or something.”
I looked at her. “So, I need to go to the gym and then I have practice this afternoon.”
She shrugged. “Okay.”
“Would it be okay if I got a change of clothes and showered from my room?”
Flippant. “It’s your place.”
Yup. Tough girl was definitely back.
“Did you eat breakfast yet?”
She shook her head.
“Want a smoothie?”
“You don’t have to keep cooking for me.”
“I’m not sure making a smoothie counts as cooking, but it’s easy to make enough for two.”
“Okay.”
She followed me to the kitchen and watched me carefully while I measured ingredients into my high-powered blender.
“Does your building have a washer and dryer?” she asked.
“Doubt it. Most of the suites have their own.”
“Oh.”
I realized that she was probably desperate to wash her clothes. “I forgot, Krista brought you some clothes over yesterday.”
She froze. “She lent me some of her clothes?”
“No, she bought you some new ones.”
“Why would she do that?”
“I asked her to.” I found the paper clothing bags and carried them to the island. “They might not be what you like, but I figured it would get you out of those scrubs.”
She stared at all the bags on the counter, unmoving.
“Go ahead. Take a look. Whatever doesn’t fit, we can just return.”
She stood and reached into a bag with her good arm, pulling out a little black hoodie that zipped up the front. She stared at it for a long time. She shoved it back into the bag and peered into another bag but pulled nothing else out.
Then she pushed the bags towards me. “I can’t accept these.”
I wasn’t expecting that. I didn’t think someone who only owned a pair of used, oversized scrub pants would be picky. I guess I was wrong. “Don’t you like them? Do you want something else?”
“She should take them back and get a refund.” Zoey looked upset.
I reached into the bag and pulled out the hoodie. “You don’t like this? I think it suits you.”
She rolled her eyes. “That hoodie was $90. Those t-shirts are $35 each.”
“So?”
She let out an exasperated breath. “I can’t afford that. How can I ever pay her back?”
“Zoey. I paid for them.”
“Even worse. I’m already indebted to you. I can’t take that.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. Everyone I knew wanted a handout, but I found the one person that refused to accept what I willingly offered. “Zoey. It’s nothing.”
“It’s way too much money.”
“Not for me.”
“You need to save your money. You can’t just be giving it away so easily. You already bought me my meds.”
Was she serious? I ran my hand through my hair trying to think of a way to tell her I had more money than I could spend in a lifetime. “One minute of a game and I can pay for what is in those bags three times over.”
She scoffed. “Yeah right.”
I set my glass in the sink. “Why does a simple gift make you so uneasy?”
“No one gives just for the sake of giving. Everyone wants something in return.”
Fuck. What kind of life had she lived until this point? “Has that been your experience?”
Defiant. “If you want to waste your money on me, go ahead. But I will not blow you or fuck you to pay you back.”
Silence hovered between us.
“I’m not even going to respond to that statement.” I walked out of the kitchen.
