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With her, I’d definitely choose the second option. Not that it was even on the table. I’d blown things with her.
There was only one upside to the season ending tonight. I’d told Wes I wouldn’t confront Alvarado over what he’d done until the season was over. Well, the season was now over and when he walked back into the main locker room area after his shower, I was waiting.
“Is there some reason you decided to fuck up my life?” I asked him. “Or are you just a spiteful little bitch who can’t stand to see other people happy?”
He sighed heavily. “I’m sorry, man.”
“That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”
He looked from side to side. “Can we talk about this somewhere else?”
“You want to come back to my place?” I scoffed. “Maybe curl up in front of the fire with a glass of wine?”
He lowered his voice, his expression weary. “Like I told Sariah, it was more about me than you. I’ve got some shit going on in my own life, and that day I took things out on the closest target, which was you. It’s not like you haven’t been dicking with me every chance you get, and I wanted payback. But I admit, it was wrong and completely fucked up.”
“Wait. You talked to Sariah? When?”
“Earlier today.”
Hope surged within me. “What did she say?”
“Not much. I did the best I could to let her know you’re not the jackass I made you out to be that day.”
Well, shit. I’d been hoping I’d get to pound on his face a little bit. Now I’d look like an asshole if I did. I didn’t forgive Alvarado, and I still didn’t like him—not even a little bit—but he looked beaten in every way and I had a thing against kicking people when they were down.
“I gave you shit because it’s what veterans do to rookies,” I said.
He nodded. “I know. I could’ve handled it better.”
“Jesus, you two.” One of our defenders, Shane McManus, was glowering. “Our season just ended and I’m watching a live episode of the Dr. Phil show. Get a fucking room.”
I glared at Alvarado. “This isn’t over. And if she never forgives me, it’ll never be over.”
“Whatever, man,” he mumbled.
I couldn’t help feeling a little sorry for him. Whatever was going on, he looked wrecked. Or maybe it was just tonight’s loss. Either way, I wasn’t going to waste time worrying about the rookie who had fucked everything up with Sariah and me.
Dr. Phil would have told me I was the one who fucked everything up. And he wouldn’t be wrong. I could admit to digging the hole I was now in, but how the hell was I going to get out of it?
Athena, Louie, and Archie were waiting by the front door when I walked inside my house later that night. Athena was first in line for attention. I rubbed her ears and tossed my car keys on the counter.
“You guys are lucky you missed that shit show of a game,” I said. “You probably could’ve played better than we did.”
It was about to be the end of an era. Drew had been the Mavericks starting goaltender for seven years now. This year had been our only shot to win a championship with all the key players who had been on the team when we lost Ben. I knew hockey, and Drew, well enough to know that an announcement about his retirement would be coming within a few days.
“You guys want some bacon?” I asked the dogs.
Each dog began to wiggle in anticipation. They knew what the word bacon meant. I usually made them a couple pieces of bacon each when I returned from a road trip. Tonight I planned to eat some, too. I needed some comfort food, good ol’ bacon and eggs.
I had several strips in a skillet and they were just starting to crackle when my phone rang. It was almost midnight and I wondered who would be calling me this late.
When I looked at the phone screen and saw Sariah’s name, I picked it up and answered the call immediately, not caring about the bacon grease on my hands.
“Hello?”
There was a moment of silence before she said, “Hi.”
“Hey. How are you?”
“I’m okay. I just wanted to say sorry you guys lost tonight.”
I chuckled. “We didn’t just lose; we got annihilated on our home ice. Thanks, though. It’s nice to hear your voice.”
I realized she wasn’t likely to say “you, too” and after an awkward pause, she asked, “Were you ever going to tell me?”
“I was.” I leaned back against my kitchen island. “I thought about it all the time. I wanted to wait until we were really solid and then take you out for a nice dinner and tell you right after we’d eaten our entrées, but before dessert.”
