Off the Record (29 page)

“But there’s nothing you can say to excuse what you did.”

He sighs. “No, there’s not. And I wouldn’t even try. The only thing you need to know is that it was all my fault, and there is nothing that I wouldn’t give to go back and have a second chance with my choices. But I can’t. The only thing I can do is hope and pray that you will forgive me. It’s my hope that you still have some love for me...because when you love someone, you forgive their mistakes.”

“So you are putting this all on me. You’re saying if I don’t forgive you, then I don’t love you...or I don’t have the power to have that type of love.”

My dad is a bit taken aback by the vehemence in my voice. “No, honey. I’m not saying that at all. I’m just saying love has a lot to do with the power of forgiveness. It’s what gives us the ability to consider it.”

Now that has my attention. Nothing he could ever say would justify what he did to me and mom. But I have to give careful consideration to his claim that love and forgiveness might be related.

Because if that is correct, then I can only hope that Linc loves me enough to forgive me.

“Is that why mom forgave you? Because she still loved you?”

My dad leans forward in his chair so that his gaze is focused more intently on me. “I don’t know, Ever. But I am thankful every day that your mother did so. I suspect that her love was what gave her that power. Oh, she doesn’t love me the way she used to, but she loved me enough to understand my weakness.”

I chew on that morsel. Linc definitely understands my weakness. He knows the root of my issues and he gently prodded me to overcome them. Unfortunately, I was too scared by the prospect of failure, and so I pushed back harder in the opposite direction.

And that only succeeded in actually pushing him away from me.

I know what I need to do. I have to open myself up, completely. I need to flay myself wide and allow the possibility of hurt, rejection and pain to knock on my door. I can hope that it won’t reach me, but I need to give it the chance. I need to do that if I am ever going to have a chance at real love with Linc.

I take a deep breath and tell my dad the words he needs to hear.  But more importantly, I say the words that are imperative to free me from these chains that have been holding me back.

I hate to admit it, but I love the Phoenix area. It’s hotter than hell and that will take some time to get used to, but I found a nice house in the city of Glendale. I decided to go with a house so I could have a yard. I’d like to get a dog because I’m lonely as hell.

When I made the move to Arizona, I was pleasantly surprised to find a welcoming committee on my doorstep within just a few days of settling in. Two of my new teammates, Nikolai Garin and Zane Kavanaugh, stood there with a case of beer and two pizzas. They are both new to the team, both having joined the NHL just last year.

We hung out and played XBox, which was about the only thing I had set up in my house. Since then, they were quickly becoming good friends, both of them easy going and funny as hell. They were also single, like me, and they liked to party hard.

I soon realized not everyone took off season training as seriously as I did—as evidenced by the beer and pizza that they showed up with. And because I was nursing feelings of anger and loneliness, I succumbed to letting these guys drag me out to go clubbing most evenings.

Niko and Zane were both high on their fame and capitalized on their good looks. They usually both went home with a woman they picked up each night that we went out. I merely went to pass the time and to try to drown my sorrows in alcohol.

I miss my dad and Nix, but I miss Ever more. I’m not sleeping well and it’s because I don’t have her warm body pressed up against mine. I’m not able to wrap my arms around her and breath in her strawberry fields. I didn’t realize what a comfort that was until it was gone.

I still burn with anger when I think of the last time I saw her. I’m pissed as hell that she couldn’t be stronger. That she would so easily give up on what we had. Admittedly, I probably freaked her out when I told her I loved her but I wouldn’t think about taking that back. I shoot straight and I talk truthfully.

My email chimes this morning with a message from Nix. I eagerly open it up, searching for those few moments that would chase the loneliness away. Instead, I get doused with a bucket of metaphorical ice water.

Nix wrote to tell me that The Post had published Ever’s article about me and he has attached a scanned copy. He doesn’t say much, other than I should read it.

I stare at that attachment for probably fifteen minutes. My fingers itch to open it up. Would she attack me again? Or would she paint a nice picture? Would she even talk about what we meant to each other?

Most importantly...would she be truthful about her cowardice? And how she bailed on me?

I walk away from the computer and do some more unpacking. I have been taking my time, because, frankly, I don’t give a shit if my home is a disaster or not. My time basically is spent working out, eating, sleeping and partying with my new buds.

After another hour, I go back to the computer and look at the email from Nix. I wish he had given me more details about the article, but he probably assumed I would be all too eager to read it. He just doesn’t understand how devastated I was to lose Ever.

My finger hovers over the mouse. A simple double-click and I will be able to see a piece of Ever. My heart rate actually picks up at the thought of seeing her photo near the headline. Because...in the several weeks that we had spent together, Ever and I didn’t have one photo taken of ourselves as a couple.

I press the left mouse button once then I hesitate.

I stare at the attachment and my anger builds again.

Before I can think twice, I right click the file and delete it. I then go into my Deleted Items and permanently remove it from my computer.

It’s time to move on from Ever Montgomery.

Tonight, the boys and I decide to forego a nightclub, instead opting for a popular bar with a band and outdoor seating. This is a good thing because I don’t like to dance and Niko and Zane are pretty awful to watch. They have mad skills on the ice but they look like complete dorks on the dance floor. It’s why I don’t dance...because I suck at it.

We are watching the band play 70’s cover music and drinking iced cold beers from The Phoenix Ale Brewery. It doesn’t take long before we are recognized and the same thing pretty much happens each night. First, some guys will recognize us and come over and ask for autographs. Word will spread, and then the ladies come up. These are usually the ones that are genuinely interested in the sport, and a lot of them can spout more knowledge of hockey than some of our own players.

Then come those ladies that want to get in our pants. They are usually scantily dressed, overly forward and don’t take offense if you say no. But if you show interest, then you can have one in your lap and offering a blow job within a matter of minutes.

I’ve watched this show play out each night I’ve come out with the boys. They’ve tried to get me to join in on the action. I always politely declined and tell them I’m just picky. There’s no way I was going to tell them I’m still stuck on some woman back in New York.

But I think to myself that maybe I need to get unstuck. Tonight...maybe I should let loose. I’m young...I’m single...and hey, it’s what I used to do before I met Ever. She’s gone. Now there is nothing stopping me from jumping back into the game.

I pound beer after beer and after the sixth one, I’m feeling pretty good.

“Hey, Linc,” Niko yells across the table at me. He’s way drunker than I am and his Russian accent is getting thicker by the minute. “Plenty of hot women tonight, no?”

He says that as a petite redhead squirms on his lap.

Yup. He’s getting lucky tonight. I glance over at Zane, who is standing beside our table talking to two women. They look really young and I hope he checks their ID’s before he takes one—or both—home.

I pound another beer and decide to walk up to the bar rather than wait for our waitress. A fleeting image of Ever bursts into my head and I immediately banish it. I deleted the last thing connecting me to her today and I need to let it go.

Warm fingertips on my arm cause me to glance down. A well-manicured and tanned hand rests there. I follow the arm up and glance into the blue eyes of a knockout woman. And fuck if she doesn’t look similar to Ever. Except...well, she’s tanned where Ever is fair. And although she has dark hair, it’s curly and she wears it off of her face. Her eyes are lovely, but they are not as big and round as Ever’s. She’s taller than Ever too and her tits are bigger no doubt. I can’t help but notice because they’re spilling out of the scrap of a dress she’s wearing.

“You’re Linc Caldwell,” she says. I recognize her New York accent so it’s no wonder why she recognizes me.

“Yup, that’ me,” I respond as I pay the bartender and grab my beer from him.

“I’m a huge fan.” She removes her hand and I look at her skeptically. “I used to have season tickets to the Rangers until I moved here a few months ago. That shut out you got against Philadelphia in the first round of the playoffs this year was phenomenal.”

Okay...the woman knew her hockey.

“Thanks. I just happened to have a really good game that night.”

She cocks her eyebrow at me. “Good game? That was a fantastic game. You stopped forty-seven shots that night, but I would expect nothing less from the goalie with the best goals against average in the NHL this past year.”

Holy shit! She really knew her hockey. I don’t even remember how many shots I faced that game.

“That’s impressive you know that,” I compliment her.

She shrugs her shoulders. “What can I say...I love hockey.”

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“Sure. I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

I turn to the bartender and order another Camelback Pale Ale.

“What’s your name?” I ask her, handing her the beer.

“Melissa.” She sticks her hand out for me to shake, and her grip is firm but her skin is soft. I feel a stirring. Oh, not below the belt, but something inside of me says I should put my moves on her. Maybe the old Linc Caldwell is ready to come out and play.