“Was the trade a surprise? We had no idea it was happening, but we’re happy to have you and your talent here. We—”
“I won’t fight. I’m done with that.” He gripped the side of his glass so hard I was concerned he might break it.
“Oh.” Well, hell, that made my job easier. I wished I had been able to workshop this conversation with Silas. He would know exactly what to say and help me not fuck this up completely. If he were here, I bet he could hold a conversation with Matthews without missing a beat. He’d make him feel welcome, learn about him, and probably set up a regular pickle ball game or some shit. He was way better at making friends than I was. Hell, he knew the names of all our neighbors. I couldn’t even describe what they looked like.
“That’s great. We, um, we were hoping to talk with you about that. We don’t need the, um, fighting. We like to keep things clean.”
Fuck, I was the worst at this. The bartender returned with my drink. We sat in silence for a while, drinking our daiquiris slowly.
“You were right, this is good,” I said. Before I knew it, I had the whole thing sucked down.
He nodded. Some of the tension seemed to have released from his shoulders.
“Anything else the team should know? We want to get you acclimated onto the team as soon as we can. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but we’re going to win the cup this year, Chuck.”
He snorted. “I don’t actually like being called Chuck. My name is Charles. That’s what a prefer to be called.”
My eyes narrowed. He’d been Chuck since his rookie year, probably before. Had he never thought to tell anyone he preferred Charles? “Great. We’ll call you Charles.”
“Thanks. The trade wasn’t a surprise to me. My coach was a dick who wanted me to fight as much as possible. I’d done it for years without putting up a fuss. But I’m tired of it. Tired of everyone thinking I’m just a bruiser and a jackass. I refused. And now I’m here.”
Damn. Once Matthews got talking, he spilled it all.
“We’re happy to have you,” I said again. We meant it. He was a good player, and so far, he fit in on the ice well enough, but we weren’t satisfied with just enough. We wanted to be the best.
He turned to me, giving me his full attention. “What changed for you this season? Seems like a few weeks ago you turned on the hyper focus and that’s when you started racking up the points.”
Well, shit. He was a talker and he was astute. Great.
“Nothing.” I shrugged it off, like my whole world hadn’t been completely turned on its head this year.
“There had to be something. No one plays hockey like that unless they’ve got something to prove or they’re running from something. Which is it?”
Both. Neither.
I pulled my wallet out and tossed some money on the counter. “Well, I better head out. How about we hit the ice in the morning? We can talk, hash out a few plays?”
“Not going to tell me?” he said. “What if I told you that the reason I wanted to quit fighting was because I was tired of disappointing the only person I ever cared about?”
My jaw clenched. “That sounds like an interesting story.”
“I’ll tell you mine, if you tell me yours.”
Oh, how I wanted to take him up on that. To confide in anyone about Silas would be amazing. But doing so would result in repercussions for both our careers.
“You see that fight that got me and Shaun Seaver ejected from the game last year?” Charles asked.
I did remember. I had been watching the game with Silas. It was one of the rare times that we were both in town without anything on our schedule.
“Yeah.”
“The ref… The way he looked at me when he threw me out. Like I was less than dirt…” He shook his head, his eyes unfocused like he was rewinding the memory and watching it like a reel in his head. “I just didn’t want to disappoint the people important to me, ya know?”
I sighed. “I ended a relationship. That’s why my game has changed. We can’t be together… for reasons. And it fucking sucks. I’m playing the best hockey of my life, and for what? To go home to an empty apartment? For a cup? Don’t get me wrong, I want it. I want it so bad, but fuck… after the game, after the parties, I’m just going to go home and be alone.” The thought haunted me, filled me with a dread that kept me up at night. Not that I was going to tell anyone that.
Hockey was the most important thing in my life, wasn’t it? I’d made the right choice. Hadn’t I?
Did I even have a choice?
