Odette thinks it’s because I’m angry over Chelsea getting engaged, but it couldn’t be further from the truth. No, I didn’t know about my ex-wife’s engagement, but I still don’t care. It’s not why I’m pissed off.
I’m angry because every time I’ve looked at Odette today, I had to talk my dick down.
I know that’s ameproblem and not aherproblem, but it still pissed me off.
I should be able to control myself. Just because she’s wearing impossibly short shorts that damn near show off her ass cheeks and a T-shirt that hugs every single curve doesn’t mean I need to react to it. It doesn’t mean I have to want to peel each article of clothing off her.
And it certainly doesn’t mean that I have to take my frustration out on her.
I’ll admit, I didn’t expect things to get so heated with her out in the barn. I had no idea that was why she was so invested in this project. It makes sense, though. I know the curse weighs on her. She might be a little flippant about it and crack jokes, but I see how it affects her. She fully believes this thing controls her destiny.
I wish she could see that it’s not some curse. Sometimes things happen for no reason. Sometimes relationships don’t work out. And sometimes good people, like Odette and the rest of her family, get the short end of the stick no matter what they do.
My eyes drift to her as she sits across from Izzy on the couch. One leg is tucked under the other, a notebook sitting on her lap and the cap of a pen lodged between her teeth. My sister is going on about something and Odette’s listening intently, scribbling something on her paper every so often.
I have no doubt they’re talking about wedding stuff.
Just because I said Iz could have the wedding here, I didn’t mean I wanted them to plan it here too.
But after today, I don’t have the heart to kick them out.
I screwed up. I shouldn’t have let Odette think I didn’t appreciate her help. I do, even if she is the most distracting thing on the planet.
When I see she’s low on cider, I fill a new glass with Neutral Zone for her and a Face Off for my sister, then drop the drinks off to them.
“Thanks, Bubs,” Izzy says, but I’m not paying attention to her. I’m looking at Odette, who avoids eye contact with me.
Fuck. Ireallyscrewed up.
Whatever, though. It’s for the best.
“It’s no big deal,” I mutter, then sulk back behind the bar.
Even though I was out in the barn all day and am tired as hell, I’m still behind the counter helping out where I can.
If I’m being honest, I don’t want to be home alone. All I’ll do is replay the conversation with Odette, just like I did when I ran home to shower after our fight.
I couldn’t stop thinking about the hurt look on her face when I said the curse was bullshit. How betrayed she looked.
Worse? I didn’t even mean it. Not really. Not when I understand why she believes she’s cursed. I felt like I was a few times during my career, which is why I built so many rituals. My pregame meal was always the same. My warm-up routine never wavered. I taped my sticksjust so. Hell, I even measured my laces, so they were cut to an exact length. They were my own superstitions to keep my game where I needed it. My own way of taking control so that if I failed, I could at least say I gave it my all.
I miss those days sometimes. The rigidity of the schedule. The certainty of what the day would hold. And I sure as fuck miss the feeling of being on the ice. The calmness it brought me. The peace. I could use that right now, especially after my fight with Odette.
“You okay?”
I turn to find Ezra standing at the end of the bar, arms crossed over his chest, eyes hard as he watches me watch Odette. I didn’t even realize I was looking at her again until now.
I quickly grab a towel and start cleaning a glass that doesn’t need it—anything to make myself look busy so I won’t be caught fixating on Odette.
“Yup. All good. Why?” I ask casually.
“Probably because you’re staring at your little sister’s best friend like you want to clear this place out and throw her on the table, then have your way with her?”
The glass goes tumbling to the floor, splintering into tiny pieces.
This bar is way too busy for him to be saying shit like that.
Several people look our way at the ruckus—including Odette and Izzy—and Ezra laughs as he walks behind the bar, grabbing the broom we keep stashed in a tiny alcove.
