Across the Line (In The Zone) (8 page)

It should have been a relief that he understood where she was coming from, but it wasn’t. It felt more like a breakup. Which was ridiculous. They’d essentially just met three days ago. They’d had some fun in the sack and now he was gone. She had a job to do and so did he, in goddamn California. She didn’t have time for a relationship anyway. Not if she was going to go forward with the espresso drinks. She’d been perfectly happy before running into Calder Griffin four days ago. Perfectly. Happy.

Then why did she feel like crying?

Chapter Thirteen

Calder walked back to the yarn shop in a bit of a daze. She’d given him the brush-off, and although she’d done it cleanly, it stung. Not five minutes after he’d withdrawn from her body, she hustled him out of her restaurant.

He’d gone too far with the teasing. He got that. Not being an asshole, he cared about whether his partner came or not, but he knew some guys obsessed over that and became like overeager puppies during sex.
Did you come yet?
Did you come yet?
He never wanted to be
that guy
, but in an attempt to be funny, he had stumbled into
that guy
territory. Lesson learned.

Becca was also a realist. He got that too. Distance was a factor. No sense planting a rose bush in the desert.

Which was why after returning to the yarn shop, he convinced his mom to go somewhere other than Cups for lunch.

“But I had my heart set on a lettuce cup and I thought we were going to see Becca...”

Calder pushed the door open for her. It was already warm out, probably eighty. “To tell you the truth, I was just there and she...hinted around that it wasn’t going to work out between us.”

His mom huffed. “That seems premature.”

“Not really, Mom. Didn’t you ever go on a date where you were pretty sure, pretty fast that the guy wasn’t for you?”

“Yes, but you’re a wonderful man and she’d be lucky to have you.” She took his arm and they started walking toward the car.

“That may be true,” he said, “but this wonderful man lives across the country. And he travels. A lot. I don’t blame her at all.”

“You could still be friends.”

“Maybe. Let’s just give it some time. Next visit, I’ll touch base with her and see where we stand. In the meantime, how about we go to Taverna Banfi, that restaurant at the Statler? I’ve heard their crab cake sandwich is pretty good.”

The Statler was a four-star hotel on the Cornell campus where students getting degrees in hospitality management got hands-on experience and training. It had several popular restaurants, Taverna Banfi being the most elegant.

His mom regarded him with a knowing smile as he pressed the remote to unlock the Camry. “You just want to go to the dessert buffet.”

“Is that a crime?” he asked. “Come on. Don’t be the second woman today to break my heart.”

“Oh, all right. Let me call Hart. He should just be pulling into town right about now. He’ll want to meet us.”

Calder stifled his sigh. He’d forgotten about Hart. As if his day wasn’t already shitty after Becca shutting him down. Now he had to make nice with his brother.

After a short drive, during which his mom caught him up on the gossip of her knitting buddies, they arrived at the restaurant where they got a table with a great view of the campus. Just as they were about to order drinks, a voice called, “Mom!”

Calder looked up to see his big brother dressed in chinos and a polo. No flip-flops, of course. Hart had always been into his appearance, even in high school. Sunglasses hung from the open vee of his button-down, and his face was smoothly shaven. Appropriate for a guy whose teammates called him GQ, after the men’s magazine Hart seemed to want to emulate.

His mom pushed back her chair and bear-hugged her older son. “Hart! Oh, honey, it’s so good to see you.”

“Good to see you, too, Mom.”

When his mom let go, Calder extended his hand. “Hey, bro.”

“Hey.” They shook.

The waiter came and took their drink order. He and Hart both had water. His mom ordered iced tea.

“So, how was the drive?” she asked.

“Fine. Quick.”

Hart liked to drive fast.

“What were you doing in New York?” Calder asked.

“Had a meeting with my agent.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Calder said, remembering. “You’re a UFA.”

“What’s a UFA?” Jenny asked. She looked back and forth between them questioningly.

“An unrestricted free agent,” Hart said. “It means my previous contract is up and I’m free to listen to offers from any team in the league.”

“Well, that’s exciting,” Jenny said brightly.

“Have you gotten any offers?” Calder asked. Hart’s last contract had been for eight million. Calder himself signed for only four.

Hart fiddled with the edge of his napkin. “None that I can talk about right now. It’s still early.”

“But you had a meeting,” Calder said. “It can’t be that early if you had a meeting.”

Hart picked up his menu and flicked it open brusquely. “Back off, CS. I used to live in New York, remember? I visited friends. I saw my agent for a
preliminary
talk about what I’m looking for. That’s it.”

“Boys, please,” Jenny said. “I want to have a nice lunch with my sons since it’s so rare that I have both of you to myself. Is that all right?” She waited until they nodded. “Good. Now, how about we talk about anything other than hockey?”

“Can we talk about his knee? And his finger?” Hart added.

“Yes, that’s general health,” Jenny said as the waiter brought their drinks. Calder waited until they’d given their food order before answering the question.

“My knee and my finger are fine. I tested the knee out last night...playing the activity which shall not be named,” he said with a sidelong glance at his mom, who nudged him playfully with her elbow. “It ached a little, but nothing major.”

“You’ve been doing rehab, I hope,” Hart said. “If you don’t bust your butt doing rehab, you’ll never come back full strength.”

Calder rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’ve been doing rehab,” he said with a long-suffering sigh. “I’ve been doing rehab until I’m blue in the face. And what do you know about rehab anyway? You’ve never gotten anything worse than a loose tooth.”

Hart opened his mouth to argue, but Jenny flicked him on the arm and gave him a warning glance. Calder enjoyed watching his brother dial it down with difficulty. He knew damn well that Hart had weathered his share of injuries, although none of them had benched him for the majority of a season.

“So back to the free agent thing,” Jenny said. “I was thinking, wouldn’t it be terrific if you two could play on the same team? Like the Sedin twins? I would love that.”

“I thought we weren’t going to talk hockey,” Calder said. Hoping for an ally against this beyond-shitty idea, he glanced at his brother who remained stoic.

“I changed my mind,” Jenny said.

“Personally, I like being on separate teams,” Calder said. “If we were on the same team, it’d be a nightmare. Our stuff would probably get mixed up all the time. The announcers would have to start using our first
and
last names...”

Not to mention the fact that his life would become an endless string of comparisons, even more than it was now.

He really did love his brother. As boys, they’d been close. During the winter months, when they weren’t at practice or a game, they’d be in the backyard on the homemade ice rink their dad set up for them every year. No video games for the Griffin boys. They were always playing hockey, with friends or with each other. If they fought, it was on account of the game—a move perceived as cheating, a controversial goal, a wayward stick meeting an eyebrow. When they played on the same team, which was often, they were almost unbeatable. They knew each other so well they anticipated each other’s moves and people called them the Double Trouble.

Then beginning with Hart’s first year in middle school, everything changed. His skills and stats continued to far outshine everyone else’s and he consistently won MVP. People, especially their dad, began to talk about the possibility of him going pro one day, but the minute he left the rink, Hart closed up. He became moody and quick to anger. He withdrew from his friends and Calder, preferring to keep to himself.

Eventually, Hart’s Ice Age ended. Although he remained a lone wolf, the moodiness slowly disappeared. His anger simmered under the surface, under control. But the damage to Calder’s relationship with his brother had been done. There was a rift between them that neither of them attempted to mend, and when the New York Islanders snapped Hart up in the first round of the draft, fifteenth overall, Calder had felt proud, but jealous, even though he’d fully expected it. When he followed suit himself three years later with the Colorado Avalanche (second round, thirty-seventh overall), the jealousy faded, but didn’t completely disappear.

Calder considered the odds of Hart signing with the Barracudas. Shit got stirred up when player contracts expired. Calder didn’t pretend to know what their general manager, Dillabaugh, had going on. He didn’t even really know which of his teammates’ contracts were up for renewal or if the Barracudas had room in their salary cap. Realistically, anything could happen.

“Well, if you two were on the same team, it would make it easier on your father and me. We could cut the number of hockey games we watch in half.”

Hart grinned. “I’m sorry. I don’t quite see the problem.”

“Yeah, are you telling me you don’t like watching one hundred and sixty-some games a year, Mom?” Calder asked with a chuckle.

She shook her head, smiling. “You two are just like your father.”

About an hour later, after dessert, Jenny asked Hart if he was seeing anyone. Calder, having already run that gauntlet, crossed his arms, leaned back and smiled.

Hart signaled the waiter for the check. “No, Mom. There is not a woman in my life right now.”

Jenny studied Hart’s face for a moment then sighed. “Well, just so you two know, you made your father’s dream come true by making the NHL, and I love you for it. But
my
dream is to have grandchildren before I’m too old to enjoy them.”

“Mom, you’re only fifty-one,” Calder said.

“All my friends have grandchildren. Some of them have more than one.”

“Then you need to find younger friends, Mom,” Hart said with a laugh as he handed over his credit card.

Rearing back slightly, Calder pressed his lips together.
Bad move
,
bro.

Jenny’s eyes narrowed and Hart seemed to realize his fuck-up. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t mean that. What I meant to say is that I’m a grown man and my love life is my own business, no one else’s. I may decide to never get married or have children. I may decide to get married and have lots of children. Who knows? Your request is respectfully noted, but in the end, it’s my life. My choice.”

Calder flicked his gaze back and forth between his mom and his brother. “I suppose you’re right,” she said. “I just hate the thought of you being alone after your dad and I pass. Life is so much more rewarding when you have a partner to share it with. I don’t want you to miss out. Either of you.” Her voice caught and Calder felt like a jerk even though he hadn’t done anything wrong.

“Come on, Mom,” Hart said. “You and Dad are healthy and young.”

“Yeah, Mom. Hart could meet the woman of his dreams on the way out of this restaurant,” Calder added. “I’m serious. Guy on my team met a woman last year at an autograph signing and is getting married at the end of the summer.”

Sometimes love hit a guy full speed from behind and when he got up and shook off the dizziness, the next thing he knew he was saying “I do.”

“Are you talking about Hollander?” Hart asked.

Calder nodded.

“Yeah. I saw a clip of his proposal on TV. We were roommates a few years ago. Nice guy.”

Jenny didn’t look optimistic. “I don’t think that’s going to happen to Hart. Lightning doesn’t strike twice.”

“Then maybe,” Hart said with a devilish grin, “Calder will get a call from an old girlfriend who he got pregnant years ago and she is only now just getting around to telling him. You could be insta-grandma!”

Jenny batted Hart on the arm with the back of her hand. “Stop it.” But she gave Calder the evil eye, as if he might actually have fathered some children on women who just hadn’t come forward yet.

Oh yeah. It was really great to have Douche Bag around.

Chapter Fourteen

On Sunday, Calder caught a plane back to San Diego. He had an appointment with a personal trainer who was highly recommended by three of his teammates, all NHL veterans, all of them in surprisingly good shape for pros in their early thirties. They gave a lot of the credit to a place called Power Play, a hockey-specific training center. They had given the trainers there such a glowing review that Calder figured he should at least go check it out.

As he boarded the airplane, he recognized Gillian, the flight attendant who’d given him the two frittatas. She flirted with him, but he wasn’t in the mood, nor was he even slightly interested. She seemed miffed and didn’t give him any extra food this time.

He spent the duration of the flight trying to distract himself from thinking about Becca and doing a piss-poor job of it. Maybe once he got back home into a more physical routine, one that burned some serious energy, he’d be able to put her out of his mind. He felt pretty stupid obsessing over someone who clearly wasn’t interested in taking it any further.

The Power Play facility and staff ended up being everything Calder hoped. Nick Young had become a personal trainer after retiring from the NHL due to injury after only four years. His sister, Kyla, was a licensed sports physical therapist. Together they had already worked wonders on other members of the Barracuda hockey club.

After the initial session, Calder felt confident Nick and Kyla could help him. He’d been hesitant to do more than his rehab, afraid of delaying his return to the ice, but Kyla assured him they would not only get him into shape safely, they would improve his current range of motion and increase the strength of key muscles so that he could better resist a repeat ACL injury. Calder was all for that. He pushed himself to do everything the folks at Power Play told him to do, focusing especially on his abs. One day he might run into Becca again—probably the next time he visited his mom—and he wanted those fuckers so cut, one glimpse of them would obliterate the memory of the flabby white middle she’d seen before. Especially when he found out his body fat index was nineteen percent.

Holy fucking shit on toast. He didn’t feel that heavy. Okay, sure, some of his clothes had felt tight and he usually put on a couple of pounds after visiting his mom, but nineteen percent? That was virtually a fifth of his body weight. Unacceptable. From that moment on, he was back on the ninety/ten plan. Healthy eating ninety percent of the time, goof off ten. If he were honest with himself, he had been a little out of control in Ithaca.

One day he was finishing up his workout at Power Play, when he saw his teammates Tim Hollander and Alex Sullivan pull into the parking lot.

They all shook hands. Tim and Alex were two of the guys who had recommended Power Play in the first place. “You working out here now?” Tim asked.

Calder set his gym bag on the floor. “Yeah, it’s only been about a week, but my knee already feels a lot better.”

“Great news,” Tim said. “Really great. They needed you during the Playoffs, buddy.”

Calder nodded. That acknowledgment meant a lot, especially coming from a veteran player like Tim. “You too, Holly.” After breaking his tibia and suffering a concussion in February, Tim had been out the latter half of the season as well. “How’s Erin?”

A huge grin split Tim’s face. “Erin’s great. Busy with last-minute wedding shit. Plus, we’re closing escrow on a house in Coronado. Big backyard and a guest house, too, believe it or not. As soon as we’re moved in, we’re gonna have a barbecue. You’re welcome to come. Bring a girl if you want.”

“Or two. Or three,” Alex said. “The more the merrier.”

“Hey, ground rules right now, Alex,” Tim said. “No fucking on my property. You want to do that, you go to your car or the beach.”

“Aw, come on. What about that guest house? I’ll clean up afterward.”

“You? Clean? Alex. How long have you been in your place?” Tim asked.

“Here in San Diego? A little more than a year.”

“Have you ever made your bed? Ever?”

Alex frowned. “Making beds is stupid. You’re just going to mess it up that night anyway.”

Tim turned to Calder. “I rest my case.” He turned back to Alex. “I repeat. No. Fucking. At. The. Barbecue. It’s going to be a family event so there’ll be kids.”

“Killjoy. Please tell me you’re still going to have alcohol. ’Cause I’m not coming if you’re not serving alcohol.”

“Beer and wine.”

“Thank God.”

“Wait a minute. While we’re on the subject...” Tim pulled out his phone, tapped it with his finger. “Yeah. You guys are on the list.”

“What list?” Calder and Alex asked together.

Tim showed them his phone. It showed a memo with a list of eight or nine names “The ‘You’d better fucking RSVP to my fucking wedding or I’m gonna kick your ass’ list.”

Calder winced. “Shit. Sorry. I lost that little card thing.”

“Me too,” Alex said.

“Christ. You guys are hopeless.” Tim pointed at Alex. “Are you coming? Are you bringing a guest?”

“Yes and yes.”

“Great. Thanks. What about you, Griff?”

“I’m coming. Of course, I’m coming.”

“Are you bringing a guest?”

His brain annoyingly tossed out the idea of flying Becca out for the wedding even though she had pretty much shut the door on anything more between them. Fuck, it was becoming a routine for him to jerk off to some memory of their time together, most often that last time in her office with her on the desk. Thinking about taking her to Tim and Erin’s wedding, knowing it was probably a no-go, made him wistful.

“Fuck me,” Alex said, eyes wide. “That’s it. Right there. That’s the look.”

“What look? What’s right there?” Calder asked, coming out of his stupor.

“That’s the same exact fucking look Tim had on his face after meeting Erin,” Alex exclaimed. “Ha! You’re goin’ down, motherfucker. You are fucking in love.”

Tim laughed and turned to Calder. “Are you?”

Calder gaped at them. “What? Fuck no. I...no.”

“I
saw
the look.” Alex narrowed his eyes. “I know I saw it. Is there a girl?”

Calder looked aside.

With a loud whoop, Alex whacked Tim’s shoulder with the back of his hand. “Told you.” He picked up his gym bag and headed for the door of Power Play.

“Fuck you, Alex,” Calder called after him. “I’m not in love with her.”

“That’s what you think,” Alex replied, an annoying as shit singsong voice as he entered the building.

Calder strode to his car. He heard someone following him, turned to see Tim jogging toward him.

“Hey, wait up, Griff.”

Calder clicked his car open with the remote, opened the back door and tossed his bag inside. “Whatcha need?”

“Erin will have my ass for lunch if I don’t get some solid numbers for her by tomorrow, so are you bringing a guest or not?”

Calder exhaled. “Sure. Yeah. Put me down for a guest.”

“You know,” Tim said in a low voice, “I actually saw something, too, on your face. Made me think maybe you’d met someone.”

Calder checked to make sure Alex hadn’t snuck back when he wasn’t looking. He hadn’t. “I did meet someone. In New York.”

Unable to stop himself, he told Tim all about Becca.

“To sum up, she has her restaurant and I have to get my knee in working order. We said goodbye and that was that.” He exhaled. “But the hell of it is, I can’t get her out of my mind.”

“Dude, long-distance relationships are tough,” Tim said. “Girlfriends need and deserve attention. It’s hard enough for guys like us when we live in the same city.”

“I know. I’ve seen players try long-distance relationships then crash and burn, but I keep trying to think of ways to make it work anyway.”

“Is she high maintenance?”

Calder thought about Becca’s work-centered lifestyle, her simple and casual look. Most of all, how willing she’d been to let him shoot the breeze with the Bombers. That one act spoke volumes. “Not high maintenance at all.”

“It could work then. Maybe. My advice, give it time. See if a few weeks from now, a month, you still have feelings for her. If you do, then see about making a go of it.”

“That makes sense.”

“In the meantime, concentrate on getting your knee better and getting rid of that muffin top. Smithy sees that, he’ll handcuff you to the bike.”

Calder slapped Hollander’s hand away when he tried to poke his stomach with his index finger. “Fuck you, Holly. Smithy’s not going to see this. It’ll be gone way before camp.”