Page 23 of Power Play
It's the safest explanation.
I ignore his comment and put my attention back on the ice. Jonesy has Tracey now, and instead of his normal teasing and cocky look he normally wears, his expression is a storm of confused anger, almost bordering on disgust.
That's strange.
That's a far cry from how cozy things were between them at the cabin. I wonder what happened between them. Did they hook up and now he's angry she's obviously flirting with other men? Did they hook up and she got too attached?
My stomach evolves from acidic jealousy to downright nausea. I don't know what's happening here and I hate feeling out of control. I hate not being able to control my reactions to things and people. Or at least knowing my own thoughts. But I've been feeling out of control since my sister dropped the bomb that day in the closet. Or have I felt that way my entire life?
"Or is he?"
Fuck, Scott can't even see my face from behind me, and he can tell I'm upset. I don't even like Jonesy. So why the fuck does it bother me so much that he's got his hands on my sister?
I sigh. It's been a long goddamn week, and I've been exhausted since the moment I woke up. It's a bone-deep tired. Shit, maybe I'm still sick.
"It's a long story," is all I offer in return. It's a long story Scott will never hear. Jonesy goes to hand her to Gabe, which is awkward in all his goalie padding, but instead of even making an attempt, he out-right drops her.
I wince as she lands hard on her ass.
Gabe, who I've gotten to know, is a breed of his own. Usually broody, he loves his woman and their blended family more than life itself. It's obvious to me that instead of possibly upsetting his woman, he dropped Tracey on her ass unforgivingly. He shrugs before skating off.
A bitter, petty part of myself wonders why Ben hadn't done that.
Because you're not his woman,the voice inside my head reminds me.
And it breaks my heart all over again.
Chapter thirteen
Lacey
Ever have one of those days where everything goes wrong?
That's today.
We're on the road again doing a western series of away games. We played tonight in Colorado, before we fly to Dallas tomorrow to play the Dallas Stars, and then California to play Los Angeles and San Jose before we can finally fly home.
Somehow during the flight, my shampoo bottle exploded and ruined half of my clothes. I spent hours trying to wash the shampoo off in the hotel bathroom before Tracey came in, all excited about how she requested we share a room. The franchise was only too happy to save money, and Tracey's excitedly talking about all the quality time we're going to get together.
We lost in a complete shutout and the mood in the locker room afterwards was barely better than a funeral. Ward gave a short and inspirational speech. We lost fight, but the war is long. We'll get better. We'll come back and kick their ass next time. Keep your head in the game.
And it worked about as well as it could, but my first NHL loss still feels really shitty. I know I'm not physically the one out there on the ice chasing the puck or defending the net, but I really do feel like part of the team, so their loss is my loss.
And then somehow during the game I lost my purse. Because, of fucking course. I left it in the locker room in a corner where I left therest of my stuff, figuring the boys wouldn't mess with it and the locker room had security so no random people can come in.
I tore through every corner I could find while twenty sweaty and sad men showered and changed around me. Ben asked if he could help, but I simply waved him away.
Mentally, I'm already planning on how I'm going to have to replace everything in it. Including my phone.
So, I'm the last one out of the arena and can't even Uber or call anyone to give me a ride back to my hotel. That's how I found myself walking alone in Denver, after midnight.
The streets felt too quiet, every shadow too long. My breath quickened as I crossed the overpass, my heart racing at the sound of footsteps behind me. I didn’t dare look back, focusing on the glow of the hotel sign ahead.
I had to cross two major highways, and I swear I was being followed at one point but managed to make it to my hotel unscathed. At least it meant less time trapped in a room with Tracey. I could feel myself wearing thin over these past two weeks and I'm not sure how much more I can take.
Hopefully I'd get to the hotel, explain to the desk clerk what happened, get a new key and by the time I got back to my room Tracey would be asleep. Or spending the night in someone else's room.
Exhausted, dirty, and completely defeated, the hotel clerk took pity on me and got me another key card after I confirmed my name, room number, and date of birth.
