The Penalty Box (Vancouver Wolves Hockey #3)(81)

I felt terrified. “I’m freaking out. Do you think he saw me?”

“Not yet.”

“I think this is a mistake. Mica doesn’t want to see me.”

“Don’t worry.” She promised. “We can discuss my plan while we eat.”





Chapter 26





MICA





I tossed my vodka back while staring blankly at Sabrina. She was speaking, her lips were moving, but I had no idea what she was talking about. Nor did I care. The only reason I was at this event tonight was because they had told me it was non-optional. I had to get through dinner, sit through some speeches and then I could head back to my hotel room, which, luckily for me, was upstairs. Sabrina looked pissed about something, but tuning into her words took energy I didn’t have.

I cut off Sabrina mid-sentence. “Why are you talking to me?”

Her lips parted. “Excuse me?”

“I asked, why the fuck are you talking to me?”

“Mica.” She sounded shocked.

Like I seemed to do to everyone these days, I took out my anger on her. “You know what you are? You’re not a puck bunny. You’re a bunny boiler. You’re the crazy chick who stalks people.”

She stepped back from me, blinking.

Uncaring, unfeeling, I turned on my heel and walked inside the gala.





*



The dinner was interminable. I ate because I needed to fuel my body, but I didn’t taste my food. Hell, I didn’t even taste the shots of vodka I was tossing back. Those had stopped burning days ago. During the speeches, I toyed with my phone. My new OCD was to check and recheck my messages from Charlie.

You have no new messages.

She had stopped texting me four days ago. She went from asking how I was doing, to expressing herself, and then to pleading. I had read all of her messages a hundred times over. I went back to the start of time and read every text that she’d ever written me. Most of them I could recite by heart. But I never texted her back. Mostly because I didn’t have words to express how impossible this was for me, or how scared I was.

And then, just like that, she’d stopped texting. Had she given up? If she had, it would be more than I deserved.

You have no new messages.

I had one photo of her on my phone. The one where she was lying in my bed with Sandy. I spent hours studying that photo, missing the curve of her smile, the smooth lines of her neck. The way her brown eyes seemed to sparkle when she was thinking about something that amused her.

Why couldn’t I call her? Why couldn’t I man up and face her? I’d spent a lot of time in a holding pattern thinking about this, but even in this state, we had hope. If we had those tough conversations, we might kill the hope. And I could not handle that. I wasn’t even close to handling that.

The crowd thundered their applause, and I made my way to the stage to receive the check for a children’s charity on behalf of the Wolves. I smiled, unfeeling, for the camera, shook hands and returned to my seat.

You have no new messages.

I finished my drink, and when the band started, that was my cue to bail. I had done my part and now I could go back to my hotel room and drink until I didn’t feel. I had two drugs of choice to numb and forget the pain: working out until I couldn’t breathe, and drinking. Since I could only work out so much, I ended up spending a lot of time alone with the bottle. You’d think this would have impacted my hockey game, but ironically, I’d never played better. Only when I was on the ice did I feel like I could forget.

You have no new messages.

I stood up and started to walk towards the door.

There she was. A vision in floating purple. She looked so fucking beautiful that I thought I was hallucinating. I rubbed one eye. Maybe I was. Maybe I was more drunk than I thought.

She gave me a tremulous little smile and started her journey towards me, weaving in between couples that were now standing up. My eyes tracked her, my head straining every time someone moved in front of her.

Why had I thought I shouldn’t see her? Suddenly my heart was so happy, so light, I felt dizzy. I stood there waiting, not moving, because I needed to savor everything about her.

Someone grabbed her arm and began to pull her to the dance floor. She protested, but they were insistent. She looked over her shoulder at me. I started to move towards her. She disappeared into the swirling group of dancers. I strained my neck, looking for her, finally locating her on the other side of the dance floor. She was looking up at someone and everything in my body stopped when I saw who she was dancing with.

Fucking Andrew.

Being that I was on my fifth vodka in, I wasn’t thinking clearly. Was Andrew her date? Had she come to this gala with him? Was he getting all cozy with her and the dogs, comforting her while her dick of a husband refused to call her back?

The clarity of how stupid I was, hit me. While I had been off not dealing with anything, I’d left her vulnerable and alone for a vulture like Andrew to pick on. My only thought was that I needed to get her away from him and into my arms.

I stalked across the dance floor and put a heavy hand on his shoulder. “You won’t mind if I cut in with my wife, will you?”

Andrew’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You have her all the time. Surely you can share her for one dance.”