Page 128 of Player Misconduct
Chapter Twenty-Five
Kendall
It’s been almost a week since the fight at the Hawkeyes stadium where Aleksi defended me, breaking Tarron’s nose and it’s the first time I’ve traveled out much since then with the press everywhere trying to keep this story alive.
Penelope and Chelsea have been able to plug enough “sources close to say” in regards to Aleksi just being a player defending the team doctor against her ex-husband. It’s not catching on like wild fire but at least it’s diluting some of the rumors. And luckily, Tarron has been keeping his head down too… for once.
Vivi's kitchen smells like fresh baked cookies as I walk in. The kind of lived-in comfort that makes you believe everything will be okay even when you know it won't be.
I sit at the island, hands wrapped around a mug I haven't touched in twenty minutes, watching the steam curl and fade into nothing. Across from me, Vivi's chopping vegetables with more force than necessary, her knife hitting the cutting board in sharp, decisive thwacks that punctuate the silence. Cammy's helping Trey’s nine year old daughter Adeline, and Kaenan’s daughter Berkeley roll out another sheet of cookie dough for their cookie cutters.
Apparently the Little Hawk’s hockey team is running a fundraiser and the girls are volunteering to make cookies the shape of hockey pucks and goalie nets.
Peyton's leaning against the counter, arms crossed, eyes tracking me like I'm a patient she's trying to diagnose. And Isla—Isla's sitting to my right, close enough that our elbows brush every time she shifts while mixing up different icing colors and filling the icing piping bags for the girls. He's close enough that I can feel her worry radiating off her and onto me.
The guys are all over at Kaenan’s place watching a pay-per-view fight so it’s all estrogen in the house at the moment. Except for Adeline’s male cat Phineas, a ginger tabby cat, who they got from the cat rescue in town a few months back, and who keeps trying to jump into my lap as if he can smell sadness.
They've been watching me like this for the last hour. Waiting for me to say something, all while keeping small talk moving around Vivi and Trey’s huge kitchen to keep the girls distracted from the drama going on in my life. They're too young to have to worry about a doctor getting knocked up by her hot Finnish hockey player patient, who broke the nose of her ex-husband last week, all while trying not to lose her license.
Having the girls here is the only reason why I haven’t been steam rolled with questions but this is the girls last batch of cookies to bake before getting ready for bed, I know they’ll all pounce on me.
My phone buzzes on the counter, the screen lighting up with another notification. I don't have to look to know who it is. The rhythm of the messages has been steady all morning—a suffocating sound that I wish I could drown out.
Vivi's knife stills. "That's the fifth time in ten minutes."
"I know," I say quietly.
Peyton leans forward, eyes narrowing. "Is it him?"
Her eyes dart towards the girls who are chatting about color schemes for the pucks as if just plain black doesn't give enough creative flare. I’d have to agree, but no one asked me
I nod once, short and sharp, because saying his name out loud feels like giving him space in this room he doesn't deserve.
"Tarron?" Cammy whispers after moving away from the girls to let them go crazy with their cookie cutters now that the cold dough is rolled out evenly.
I flip the phone over so the screen goes dark. "Yeah."
"What could he possibly have to say after that stunt?" Vivi's voice is sharp, protective, filled with the kind of fierceness that makes you feel less alone even when you're drowning.
“What stunt?” Adeline asks, turning around to face Vivi.
“Nothing for you girls to worry about. Go ahead and finish cutting out the cookies and then Cammy will put them in the oven. Then it’s upstairs for brushing your teeth and bedtime. You can decorate the cookies in the morning when they cool completely.”
Cammy turns back to them and helps move the cookies to the baking sheet as they cut them out, moving the process along.
I take a slow breath.
"That it was a 'minor fall off the wagon,'" I say, my voice flat. I keep an eye on the girls as I speak, but they are singing some Disney princess song now and aren’t paying attention. "That he's getting help. That Aleksi overreacted. That he never would have hurt me." I pause, swallowing hard. "That he's doing this all for me and the baby."
“Perfect. All done. These look amazing girls,” Cammy says, taking the tray to the oven and slides the tray inside, setting a timer.
“Off you go. Goodnight girls. I’ll be back in the morning to pick you up after breakfast” Isla tells Berkeley, as Adeline follows and they head for the stairs.
"Unbelievable," Isla mutters, shaking her head, as soon as we hear the girl’s feet dancing in the upstairs bathroom. "The man crashes your game drunk, grabs you in front of half the media in Seattle, and now he's the victim?"
"That's what addicts do," Cammy says softly, her tone gentler now. "They rewrite their own story. Make themselves look like the hero even when they're the villain."
I stare into the dark surface of my coffee, watching my reflection warp and blur. "He says he has a meeting with his coach and GM. That he can still turn everything around. For me and the baby. I wish he’d just leave me alone and stop making everything worse."
