Done. I’ll text you dates.
I was about to respond when the text screen disappeared, replaced by an incoming call. I couldn’t help the groan that left my lips at seeing Angie’s name on my phone. I’d been a fucking idiot to ever get involved with her. Not because she wasn’t a good woman butbecause mixing business and relationships was always a bad idea. Now, we were left dancing around each other awkwardly.
I turned off my engine and sank back in my seat. Normally, I loved the feeling of the buttery soft leather; just another perk of the ridiculously expensive Bentley SUV. But today, none of it was comfortable. The leather was too hot, and the seat suddenly felt rigid.
As I stared down at the phone, I thought about letting it go to voicemail. God, I was a dick.
I hit accept on the screen. “Hey, Ang.”
“Debating whether or not to answer?” There was a hint of amusement in her voice. That was a good sign.
“Possibly,” I admitted.
She let out a sigh that sounded like it carried the weight of the world. “Cope, I’m not the bad guy here.”
I stiffened, my grip on the phone tightening. “I know you’re not.”
At least she wasn’t the one pulling the strings. But Angie also knew I hated the press game. Sure, I could turn on the charm, but that was just to keep them all at bay. Give them what they wanted and not the truth.
“You don’t act like it,” she muttered.
I was quiet for a long moment, unsure of what to say. Because there wasn’t anythingtosay. And everything between us was simply awkward silence.
It made sense. Angie and I had never fit. There was an attraction there, sure, but there wasn’t more. And at the end of the day, being with her had only made me feel emptier.
Angie finally spoke. “I emailed you a statement. Let me know if you’re good with it or want anything changed. The gist is this: The Seattle Sparks regularly drug test their players. This ensures a healthy team year-round. Copeland Colson was one of the players recently tested. His results came back clear, just as they always have. And then all the team mumbo jumbo.”
“That’s fine, Angie. I don’t need to read the rest. I trust you.” I was suddenly so damn tired. It was the kind of exhaustion that livedin your bones and no amount of sleep could get out. I loved hockey but was so sick of the games that went on outside the rink.
Angie paused for a moment as if summoning her courage. “What’s going on, Cope? You’ve been distant from everyone. You punch Marcus out of nowhere?—”
“That prick deserved it,” I snapped.
“I have no doubt he did, but Marcus has always been an asshole who likes to push people’s buttons. You never punched him before.”
Fuck.
Angie was right. I’d been playing with most of the guys on the team for years, including Marcus. Competitive youth hockey was a small world, and we’d all sort of grown up together. Even though it was surprising that the son of one of the most well-thought-of players to ever play the game was such a jerk, I’d gotten used to his barbs and prickish ways.
I’d never snapped. I’d simply dealt with it how I always had, by taking my frustrations out on the ice, the opposing team, and by working harder and longer than anyone. It made me a hell of a hockey player. But none of that seemed to be working now. And the nightmares had gotten worse, coming a few times a week instead of once a month.
I was cracking, and I didn’t have a clue how to stop it.
“Cope.” Angie’s voice was soft now. “Talk to me.”
Hell.
She was the last person I wanted to talk to. Because opening up to her could signal we were something we weren’t. And that wasn’t fair to her.
“I’m good, Ang. Pulling my shit together. You know this random tip for a drug test wasn’t on me.”
She was quiet again, and then there was the familiar anger. “Why did I think you’d tell me a damned thing? It’s not like you ever let me in. No matter how hard I try.”
The line went dead, and I dropped my head back against the seat. Just one more failure to add to the bunch. But it wasn’t like Angie’s accusations were wrong. Ihadn’tlet her in. Not the tiniest bit.
Sure, I played the part: dinners and functions. The sex was good and frequent. But I never stayed the night. Couldn’t. Because I had no idea what I’d do to someone if they happened to be in bed with me when I woke up from one of those nightmares—the ones where I was fighting to get out of that damn car and get to my dad and brother.
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to fight off the oncoming headache. Alone was better. Necessary. And I’d make peace with that in time.
