Page 7 of Scoring Chance
“Don’t worry, Mel,” he assures me, “there’s gonna be lots of awesome hockey to watch. And if you hang out at the hockey house, I can guarantee you’ll be entertained. The one new guy? He’s got more energy than Whit and Ollie combined. He’s a little…eager…and I have no doubt the rest of the guys will capitalize on that and prank the crap out of him.”
“Gotta love hockey players,” Ian says, leaning in to give Booker a quick kiss on the cheek.
Soon it’s time to go, since the boys only have about thirty-six hours until Ian has to leave for his new digs in D.C. They insist on walking me home, and I’ll let them because it’s nice to have company. “I’m gonna hit the bathroom, ok? I’ll meet you guys up front,” I say as Booker nods while Ian’s off saying goodbye to a few people at the bar.
4
Mel
I'm halfway to the bathrooms when I see him. He's chatting up some pretty girl at the bar. Ew. My instinct is to turn and head for the door. Despite my earlier rant, I'm going with my gut on this one, but just as I start to turn, he spots me.
“Melanie, is that you? How are you?”
I hate that he calls me Melanie. I'm Mel. I always have been. But when Chaz started calling me Melanie last year, I fawned all over the use of my full name like it was some gesture that only a truly good guy would think of. It made me feel grown up. Now it just makes me feel dirty.
He touches my arm, and I stiffen.
"It's been a while since we've had a chance to connect."
A chance to connect?What the fuck? Does he mean that it's been a while since I've warmed his bed? It’s late, I’m tired, and I ran out of patience for his assholery months ago, so I say what’s on my mind. “Does your wife know where you are right now?”
His eyes go wide for a second before he schools his features. "Melanie, I never lied to you. Casey and I were divorcing."
"Do divorcing couples typically fuck? That's a new one for me. My parents haven't been able to be in the same room with each other since I was three, so maybe I'm just a bit behind the times on how divorces work these days."
He reaches for my arm, but instinctively, I pull back. "Casey and I decided to try, Melanie, for the boys' sake. Surely you can understand that. Wouldn't you have wanted your parents to try?"
“God no. The only thing worse than separate holidays would be joint holidays.”
He huffs out a laugh before his face changes. I can see it now, how he’s a chameleon. If only I could have seen it a year ago.
Chaz rubs the back of his neck. "Honestly, things at home aren’t good. I tried, like I said, for my boys. But the love, it just isn't there. I'm not sure it ever really was." His voice takes on that sad tone that lulled me in last winter. That weary, wistful tone. He sounded so broken, so hurt. What could I do but try to heal him?
But now, months later, he just sounds whiny. I feel no sympathy, only anger and betrayal.
"I'd say I'm sorry, Chaz, but I'm not. You did this. You and your wife. You created this mess. The only sympathy I have is for those boys."
"They miss you, Melanie. Corbin asked for you just this morning."
That tugs on my heartstrings. I was never the kind of girl who was into kids. I've never wanted any of my own. My good friend Willa has a baby, and while I love Rose to pieces, I have never fawned all over her the way the rest of the crew does. So, when my Econ professor asked if I wanted to babysit, I was about to say no. But he was in the middle of a nasty divorce, and he looked so needy. And he always flattered me. So as much as I hate to admit it, I fucking jumped at the chance to be in his house. To linger after hours. To know parts of his life that no one else had access to. Is that pathetic? Maybe. Would people judge me if they knew? Without a doubt. But here’s the thing about human nature that I think we all forget sometimes. Deep down, we all just want to feel needed. Special. Loved. And sometimes that makes us do stupid, foolish things. Maybe I crave that feeling more than most; I don’t know. But whatever piece is missing inside my heart, Chaz saw it. He saw it, and he used it. I see that now, but I didn’t then.
One night he came home from a university function after the boys were asleep. I'd fallen asleep too. He woke me up but before I could gather my books and head out, he was sitting on the couch with me, massaging my shoulders, easing my tension, thanking me for my help, telling me I deserved a break.
Ten minutes later, I was naked.
I'm not proud.
I'm fucking ashamed.
And I'm also fucking angry.
So, when he feeds me the line about Corbin, the littlest one, asking for me, I steel my heart against his manipulative lies. "Well, Chaz, you'll have to tell him Mellie has a new job. But hey, when I spotted you, you were talking to that blonde. Maybe she can be the boys' new nanny.”
"Melanie—"
"Fuck. You." I say, then turn like I should have five minutes ago. I practically run for the front door and nearly slam into Booker. He stops me gently.
"You ok, Mel?"
