Of course, I’ve seen Mack a few times over the years here and there when I visited and hung out with Austen, but it’s not like the man spoke more than a few words to me, if any at all, in the last seven years. Every time we were in the same place, it was like he saw right through me. Like I was a ghost, and maybe to him I am.
Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if we didn’t hook up. Would we still be friends? Would he look at me like someone he knows?
I don’t regret what happened between us, I just wish it could have been different—more. But life doesn’t work like that. Especiallymylife.
Still, I wonder sometimes what we could have been; if we could have been something at all.
A part of me wonders what Vance would think. About Mack. How he would feel about me daydreamingabout someone else. But not just anyone else—Jordan. It’s not like I poured my heart out to Vance about my past… whatevers, but on the odd occasion I’d mentionsomeone, anyone, Vance didn’t take it well.
Despite our arrangement being purely sexual, Vance was prone to being a jealous dick, and I’d paid for setting him off on and off the ice.
No one gets to have you but me.
I own you, Brewer. I own every fucking twisted part of you.
I stiffen as I remind myself it doesn’t matter what he thinks.
We’re not together anymore. I don’t owe Vance Harding shit. He doesn’t own me or my thoughts.
My phone rings, the notes of The Neighborhood’s “Daddy Issues”sounding in my ears. I stop, frozen in front of a display of Squishmallows.
I need to change his ringtone. Fuck. I pull out my phone quickly, silencing the call. I should block him, but I can’t find it in me to do it. I’m worried that somehow, someway, I’ll reap the punishment because he’llknow.I tense immediately at the thought.
He’s called me every day for the last month, since my injury was official news.
Maybe he wants to apologize,I think as I slide my phoneback in my pants pocket.
Apologize for what, exactly? Leading me on for all those years, letting me think we could be together for real? Shattering my fucking knee to pieces before the season even started?
I should feel better knowing he’s sitting out a couple games, but for some reason, that only makes me more worried. So, I shove all thoughts of Vance and his minor month suspension out of my mind. I don’t want to think about him or our disastrous relationship.
Daddy Issues, indeed.
I pick up a fat, squishy unicorn Squishmallow, all pinks and blues with glitter all over it.
Lucy willloveit. I twist my lips as I look over the display, because lord knows if I get one for Lucy, Sarah’s going to need one too. If there’s one ray of sunshine in my life, it’s Britt’s two adorable daughters. My nieces.
I’ve accepted the fact that no matter how badly my mother wants me to get married and be a cookie-cutter husband, it’s never going to happen. Which means having my own kids aren’t in my future, as much as I’d like them to be.
I find an aqua-colored, glittery cat and figure it’ll work. Sarah’s favorite color is green, but I’m not sure she likes cats… Oh, well. She’s four. I’m sure she won’t complain.
I stash the stuffed animals under my arms as I continue through the store, grabbing little things here and there.By the time I make it to the register, I’ve got an armful of stuffed animals, coloring books, and toys. Britt’s going to kill me, but what’s the point of having nieces if I can’t buy them shit? Besides, it makes me feel better to spend money on people.
Gift giving is pretty much a familial curse at this point.
I grab a couple bags of peach rings from the counter for myself and some gummy bears for Britt.
My phone rings again once I’m in the car, the melodic words of “Daddy Issues”echoing through the speakers. I silence the call.
Eventually, he’ll get the message.
I check my watch, knowing I need to be downtown in a couple of hours for my PT. I hope to hell that whatever tech I get today is better than that asshole Matthew I had yesterday. And I hope whoever I get is hot, so I can at least enjoy the pain they deliver me. Or maybe that other place will finally get an opening and allow me in. It seems they don’t make exceptions for professional players, which is a first, because I’m used to my name being thrown around and people letting me do whatever I want. Shark Sports treats everyone fairly. I guess I appreciate it, but it’s the best place in the state, and I need to get in if I ever want to play hockey again.
I barely get two knocks on Britt’s front door before she opens it, eyes wide with surprise as she clutches a bowl of ice cream to her chest.
“Oh my God, Alex, what are you—”
She barely gets the words out before the screams commence and I am nearly tackled by four small arms. I stumble back and my knee aches, but I don’t let them know that.
