We lost the Stanley Cup to the Colorado Icebreakers. The last game of the seven-series was the one that decided that we’re not lifting that cup this season.
I can blame no one but myself for this loss. My head was not in the game. I was so fucking off my game that Coach even considered benchingme. Talk about a punch to a man’s already bruised ego.
The inside of the locker room was nothing short of a funeral home, solemn and distressed. Everyone on the team was upset and angry, rightly so. They put so much hard work, time, and peace of mind to win the cup, only for me to play like shit when we came so fucking close.
“I’m sorry,” I mutter an apology in the room, the guys halting their movements and lifting their eyes to me.
“It’s just a game, man. No need to sweat it,” Oliver shrugs as he unties his laces on the bench, giving me a tight smile that’s obviously taxing him.
Before I can say some bullshit, Seb pipes, removing his jersey over his head, “You can always make it up by giving us a treat of your home-cooked meal, Daddy.”
Everyone releases a light chuckle, shaking their heads at him.
“That’s right,” Ezra adds. “I’m not requesting my wife to cook for me after we go back home from a long series of games and an hours-long flight. You’ll have to do,” he sighs, shaking his head as if he’s doing me a solid by eating themeal I cook.
“She’s still not your wife, dude,” I pinch him right back, removing those pads on my legs.
Ezra jabs me in the shoulder, putting me off-balance as I grab the stall to keep myself steady. “Zip it. She might as well be.”
“God, Cap! You’re so pussy-whipped,” Levi scoffs for somewhere in the room.
Ezra’s eyes narrow at him as his head whips to him. “I proudly fucking am. And you don’t get to say the p-word in relation to Kaeli ever again. Got that, fucker?” he growls.
Levi’s smile drops, his face turning pale at the clear threat in his captain’s voice. God! Half the time, these guys dig their own grave, unnecessarily running their mouths.
Not like you’re any better by going behind his back and fucking his sister.
My mind deems it necessary to remind me of my own follies. The slow smile that the back and forth with guys brought on my face vanishes at the painful reminder of her.
I can’t keep her out of my mind for one second. She’s always there, haunting the space in my mind, drilling it into my brain that I lost the best thing that’s ever happened to me. All because Icouldn’t get rid of the worst sooner.
Henry’s threats about revealing Andie or selling her out to the cheap thugs he owes still grip my soul in a vice. I can’t even imagine the horror of the repercussions of such heinous acts. And so I did what I could at the moment, I gave her a reason tohateme, so it would hurt just a little less to lose me.
She needed to believe that I didn’t want her in order to leave me. So that I can protect her. And the only way I could see to do that was to let her go, or at least let her think I did. She needed to act heartbroken so that the ones following her could believe it too.
I needed them to believe that she’s no one to me. That they couldn’t hurt me by harming her.
She shouldn’t have to bear the consequences of my actions or the way others choose to live. I’m not letting Henry or any of the low-life thugs get close to her.
Seeing the light dim from Andie’s eyes when I lied to her broke me. I’ve never cried as much as I did that night. Hurting her, even if to protect her, was hurting me, ripping my soul to shreds. It was crippling, the pain, more than she’ll ever know.
Losing her is like oxygen being snatched from my lungs as someone squeezes my heart right in the palm of their hands.
The thorns of her absence wrap around me at night when I’m lying awake, unable to sleep. Every time I close my eyes, all I can see is Andie hurting, her eyes bleeding of life, her smile falling—herflinching.
I’ve never wanted to end my life as much as I wanted to when I let Andie walk away from me that night, hurting her the same way I once did before. Hurting her using her insecurities, she trusted me with.
Even hell would be too good for a monster like me.
I intend to make it right.
I’ll grovel at her feet, rub my nose on the ground if that’s what it’ll take for her to forgive me. Or I’ll die trying to earn her forgiveness.
It’s either her or no one.
But first, I need to clear our path of the rodents that seem to think it’s okay for them to block it for us. The first thing I’m doing the second I get back to Boston is finding a way to put fucking Henry behind bars so that he can never threaten my people ever again.
The mere thought of him has my blood running hot, fuming,beggingfor his blood.