Page 4 of Scoring Grey

“I won’t push you. If this is the way you want it, this is the way you’ll have it.”

I still don’t move. I can’t. Nothing is the way I want it to be.

“It’s been a long day for both of us. I’ll let you get some rest,” he says as he exhales a spent breath, his feet taking him no more than a few steps before he adds, “For what it’s worth, breathing the same air as you has always been torture.”

I hear the front door close, and I straighten. “You’re a coward, Eloise. He wants the same things.” I grab the water I know will no longer quench my thirst. It can’t when the man I want to fill my cup just walked out the door.

2

CALLUM

“Damn, bro. Didn’t your girl get in town last night? What was that out there?” Roe says, punching my shoulder when we get in the locker room.

“Yeah, Balfour, I thought a good fuck would get your head back in the game,” Austin throws in his two cents, only further pissing me off. It would appear they’re just giving me flack, but everyone knows I’m not having my best season. I’m not making the plays I usually do. I’ve been in a funk I haven’t been able to shake, so their comments are more two-fold than normal. They’re a razz as much as they are a dig.

“Austin, give it a rest. You know it’s not like that with this one,” Roe says as he takes his gear off.

Austin opens his locker. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? What are you doing if you’re not getting your dick wet? There’s no point in having a girlfriend if you’re not at least getting that.”

Unable to control myself, I fly across the room and pin him up against the lockers. “Don’t talk about my girl like that. She’s more than a quick fuck. If you can’t show her respect, then I better not catch her name coming out of your mouth.”

He shoves at my chest, but I don’t move.

“Are we clear?”

His face is red; he’s ready to swing at me, and right now, I’d be okay with letting him. Last night didn’t go as planned, and I haven’t been able to think about anything other than Eloise.

“Get off me, Balfour.”

I press harder. “That’s not an answer.”

“Whatever, bro. Since no one else is willing to say it, I will. You’re the reason our season has sucked, and it’s about to get worse.”

“Are you insinuating my girl is a problem?” I spit.

“No.” He pushes out of my hold. “Your shit performance is the problem. The team was already paying in losses, but now you’ll be taking away from us off the ice, too.”

“Leave it alone, Austin,” Roe says. “You can’t put that on him. That came from the top down, and no one has details.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Austin tosses his helmet into his locker hard. “This is what I’m talking about. The team captain can’t even find time to read his email now,” he grinds out before heading to the showers.

Roe shakes his head as he watches him storm off. “Don’t worry about him, man. We all go through droughts. His opinions are his. He doesn’t speak for everyone.”

I walk back to my locker and pound on the door. “Maybe not, but he’s entitled to his opinion, and he’s not wrong.”

I run my hands through my hair and drop my head, and Roe squeezes my shoulder.

“My momma always told me there’s no I in team, bro.”

I don’t respond. There’s nothing more to say. What’s messed up is this morning, I felt like I was on top of the world. Before I came to practice, I stopped by Eloise’s condo. I left her fresh-cut lilies, a strawberry croissant, and a bottle of water with a tiny sack of hangover essentials attached around the neck containing more Motrin and two packets of electrolyte powders. I saw the bottle of wine she put down last night. I know she’s not a big drinker, and judging by how sound she was sleeping this morning, I don’t doubt she had a rough night. She looked so peaceful asleep in her bed, I would have been perfectly content sitting in the chair beside the window, watching her for hours, but I had to get to practice. Skating around the cold rink is where the warmth I felt leaving her asleep was lost.

The longer I skated, the more discontent settled and turned into annoyance. In the past, I’ve been able to turn those feelings into anger that fueled my aggression on the ice, but what I feel now isn’t your typical anger. I’m not mad at Eloise. I’m hurt. However, it’s my fault. It was my flawed, misguided, borderline psychotic idea that brought her here. Even though it accomplished what I had set out to do: get my shot. I feel like she wasn’t completely transparent with her reasons for staying in a separate condo. She may not be here for me at all. There are countless other reasons she could be here. My head is a mess as I run through all the possibilities, all the ways this might be nothing more than a show to say she tried, only to let me down easy. I anxiously bounce my leg and recall the day that brought her to Toronto. The day I asked her to choose me.

“Your son is inside. Don’t make a scene,” Eloise’s brother, Iverson, said when I crashed their weekend glamping trip. Showing up unannounced, I stood on the cabin’s front porch and leaned against the banister.

“I don’t plan on it, but he’s my son and I have a right to see him.”

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