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After the swelling went down over my eye and I could see enough to drive, the team doctor had given me the okay to leave the building. I dialed Kat’s number several times, each time getting her voicemail. I left her a handful of angry messages that she still hasn’t returned.
Why is she avoiding me? There must be some truth to Duke’s words. I bet she even watched the fight on TV. She never misses my games.
When I walk into the hotel, the doorman stares at my face and taps me on the shoulder. “Good game, son. Better luck next time.”
I wish I had something clever to say like, You should see the other guy, but I never had a chance against Duke. He took me by surprise and stunned me with his words. My lack of reaction is the reason my face feels like Duke rearranged it into tiny pieces.
I nod and flash a closed-mouth smile. It hurts too much to make any sudden movements.
Once I’m inside the elevator, I suck in a deep breath and let it out. The ride up to my floor intensifies the spinning in my head, forcing me to hold onto the wall until the doors open. I stagger toward the end of the hall and dig the plastic room key from my pocket.
A few seconds later, I push open the door to my suite and drag myself into the bathroom. Tiled from floor to ceiling in white marble, hotels like this are becoming the norm for me, even though I am out of my element. When I was a kid, my mom almost never had money to take us on vacation. The closest we had to a trip was a two-hour car ride to the beach.
Now, I’m staying in places that have anything I could ever dream of right at my fingertips. I remove a washcloth from the basket in the center of the double sinks and run it under cold water. My cheek has a few cuts, the skin already starting to darken.
How could Kat do this to me? I trusted her with my life. And she betrayed me.
Why won’t she answer her fucking phone?
Staring into the mirror, I lean my palms on the edge of the sink and take a good look at my face. I never liked Duke. Now, I have a real reason to hate him. He was always right about Kat and me.
I drop the towel on the counter and check my cell phone one more time. Nothing. Four years of friendship should entitle me to at least a courtesy call. I strip off my clothes and turn on the shower, allowing the steam to envelop around my head before I get inside the oversized stall. The water causes me to wince every time it hits certain bruises on my face, the pain a constant reminder of tonight. So, I turn around and allow it to pour down my back.
I doubt I will even sleep after everything that happened on the ice. We have another game tomorrow night. All it would take is an accidental tap to reopen my cuts. The doctor refused to let me leave until he got the bleeding down to what he considered a reasonable amount.
“I’m a hockey player,” I told him, “I’ll just rub some Vaseline on it and get back on the ice.” The doctor wasn’t too thrilled about that response. It hurt like a bitch when I laughed. My coach didn’t agree with me either. So, I had to sit out for the rest of the game, all because of Duke fucking Baldwin.
After I fill the entire bathroom with steam, I turn off the water and get out, wrapping a towel around my waist. A bell rings, the sound echoing throughout the suite.
What kind of hotel room has a doorbell?
I laugh to myself on the way to answer the door, but even that fucking kills. The slightest movements in my jaw send a tremor up to my ears.
I grip the handle and swing the door open, forgetting that I’m still in a towel, but not giving a fuck.
“Hey,” Kat says, biting her bottom lip. She has her hands resting on her stomach.
My mouth drops open in shock, causing me to reach up to cup my face from the pain. I shake my head at her in disbelief. “It’s true.” I can hardly ge
t out the words. “How could you?”
“Can I come in? I need to talk to you.”
“I can’t…” I take a few steps back, the room spinning around me.
“Please, Dean. I’m so sorry.”
“For what? Sending Mike Tyson after me or for hiding our child from me.” I try to shut the door in her face, and Kat pushes her way into the room.
“I never meant for any of this to happen.”
I turn my back to her and walk into the living room. “Get out, Kat. I can’t do this tonight.”
“But I’m your best friend.”
I spin around to face her, my teeth clenched in anger. “Don’t use that line on me. We’re not…we’re nothing.” My chest hurts from all the pressure building up inside. The lack of oxygen to my head forces me to hold onto the arm of the couch.
“Dean, c’mon.” Kat inches toward me. “Don’t act like this. I messed up big time. I know that.”
