Page 44 of Forecheck
And then I’d met Ashley, and…god, that time of my life had been so fucking messy.
Ashley was the kind of girl who’d seemed perfect at first glance. When I met her—at the bar, of course—her black hair was cut just below her chin, and she had a hoop through her septum and several more lining her delicate earlobes. She’d been wearing the shortest, clingiest dress I’d ever seen, the kind of dress that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. I’d taken her back to my apartment that night, and she’d basically never left.
By the time I was in my senior year, Ashley a junior, she had grown her hair out so it fell well past her shoulders, had removed all but one stud from her lobes, and had taken to dressing in expensive skinny jeans, sweaters, and heels, where before she had favored oversized band tees and black denim she’d distressed herself with fishnets underneath—even in the dead of summer.
The change was so subtle, I hadn’t noticed until it was too late. She’d been grooming herself to become the Instagram influencer trophy wife of a professional athlete in front of my very eyes, and I’d been so focused on hockey and school that I’d completely missed it.
When my final season ended and I got the call to leave school early to play for the Warriors during their playoff run that year, I’d started packing my things for the short drive to Detroit without hesitation. To this day, I had no idea how she figured out I was leaving, but as I shoved shit into my duffle, she showed up at my apartment, one of those hard-sided suitcases wheeled by her side.
“When we get to Detroit, we can go to a jeweler and pick out a ring,” she said excitedly. “I suppose we’ll have to stay in ahotel while we look for a place, but you can afford that, right? I think we start with an apartment in the city, and once we get married, we can buy a house in the suburbs. One big enough to start a family.”
I barely heard her endless chatter over the roar in my head. We’d been together for nearly three years and I’d never once considered the possibility of marrying and starting a life with this woman. In an instant, I went from riding the greatest high of my life to feeling like the biggest chump in the world.
Ashley was mid-sentence when I said, “No.”
“No, what?” she asked, turning from the mirror over my bathroom sink where she’d been inspecting her flawless makeup, hands on her hips.
“No to…all of it. I’m not marrying you. You’re not coming with me. This…this is over.”
“What?”
“I don’t want all of that,” I said, quickly adding, “At least not right now.”
And definitely not with you.
I hadn’t said that last part, but what I had spoken told her enough. She’d picked up the nearest heavy object—which happened to be my economics textbook—and chucked it at my head before storming out of the apartment.
I never saw her again.
“Dude, where did you just go?” Lexie asked, pulling me from my reverie.
“Just thinking about college,” I said, blinking a few times. “I wasn’t a good guy back then. I suppose it’s a blessing Berkley and I hadn’t crossed paths until now.”
“Yeah, well…new-to-the-pros Brent wasn’t much better,” Lexie said. “Shit, even Brent from a few months ago could’ve used some work.”
I barked out a laugh, my head throbbing enough that I quickly quieted down.
“You’re not wrong.” We grinned at each other, and I said, “So back to Berkley. She’s worried about me?”
Lexie rolled her eyes. “Of course she is. She had to watch you take that hit on TV, and you were bleeding everywhere and not waking up. Hell, even I was worried.”
“Aww, Lexie! You care! That’s so sweet!”
“I only care about you because you matter to Berk.”
I gave her a knowing smile and winked. “Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
“God, you’re infuriating. It makes sense that you and Berk found each other.”
I smiled proudly, assuming that, if Lexie was giving me shit, it meant she liked me.
Though it wasn’t necessarily a deal breaker, having our friends get along would make a world a difference as my and Berkley’s relationship progressed.
Hours later, an insistent buzzing woke me from intermittent sleep.
I didn’t even bother to see who was calling before swiping the screen to answer.
“Hello?” I croaked.
