Page 58 of Puck to the Heart
One of Olivia’s eyebrows lifted, but she didn’t say anything.
“You should’ve seen me before. Tall and gawky with a bad haircut and theworsteyebrows you’ve ever seen. I’m surprised I could see through those things.” I shuddered dramatically, and she let out a tiny laugh. It was enough to keep me going.
For a few moments, Olivia stared blankly while I gathered my thoughts.
“I don’t… I don’t know how to say it other than to spit it out. Most of the people I slept with were only there for a night with Asher ‘The Basher’, not… just Ash. Using me for my notoriety and fifteen minutes of being the next person I slept with, or tickets, or meeting someone else.” With a clink, I set my mug down and rested my head in my hands.
“You’re not ‘Just Ash.’” The slight weight of her hand against my knee nearly made me flinch, it was so unlike her. “Ash. You’re so much more. More than the skates, and muscles, and the stupid cocky grin. And if someone used you, it’s not your fault.”
“I know. And I’m mostly over it now. But tonight, with?—”
“With Brad.” Realization dawned in her eyes. “I’m sorry. I thought maybe if I got more face time with them, or if I told them you were involved, maybe they’d fucking listen. But I couldn’t get a word in edgewise.” A long, defeated sigh left her sagging against the arm of the chair. “I wasn’t thinking of how it might look to you. So, I’m sorry. Again.”
My hand found hers on the small, ornate table. “Once I had a minute to process, I realized. How could you have known if I didn’t tell you? It… brought up a lot. And I started the game off mad. And then fucking Brad.”
“Fucking Brad,” she agreed.
It was gratifying, but there was still one thing I couldn’t wrap my head around. “I still don’t understand why you let him get away with so much. Why do you let him touch you?”
She let her hair fall over her face as her head tipped forward. The lines of her body shrank inward. Somehow, she folded herself like an Origami shape into the chair.
“Every time, I freeze. I hate having this response. But he’s so… casual with it. It’s a lot like—like Alex. Even the cologne he wears. It does something to my brain, and I can’t move. Believe me, I hate it.”
“Thank you for tolerating me.” The words were bitter, though the tone wasn’t. I understood what she meant even if the delivery was… off. “But why haven’t you told him about us?” I gestured between us, though she didn’t look up.
Wrapping her arms around her knees, she squeezed even tighter into the chair. “For a few reasons. One, I didn’t think he’d believe me, like a Canadian girlfriend situation. Two, if he did believe me, I thought he’d be gross about it, which he was. Three, this is so new, I didn’t want to jinx it. I wanted to keep it to myself for a while. Or keep it just us.” Her forehead pressed to the top of her knees, muffling her voice. “I did tell him, though. After… you skated off.”
I winced. “I’m sorry.”
“You startled both of us. The look on his face was priceless though.”
“I still wanna punch that guy,” I mumbled.
“You and me both.”
Silence fell. Not uncomfortable, but full of unsaid things dangling heavily between us. For a while, I enjoyed it, taking in the sight of her in one of my favorite places, the scent of chocolate and cinnamon permeating the air. The whole night had a weight to it, the magnetic pull of polar opposites dragging us together.
Eventually, it became too much, and Olivia set her mug down slowly and took my hand between hers.
“Do you want to talk about whatever is still bothering you?”
Unbidden, Nora popped in my head. My erstwhile agent only ever appeared in my mind when I didn't want her there. Even now, nearly five years later, my mouth went dry, and my palms grew damp.
“Not really, but I want you to know. Before all the shit with the calendar before I was... this," I gestured at my body. The implication was there if I couldn't speak the words. "My agent started coming to games my senior year of college, before I signed with her. That’s common, but she was really…attentive. And I don't think it meant anything at first. She was young, starting out, trying to make her mark. I don't know how it happened, but somehow, we started dating. Sort of. Or I thought we were. I should've realized when we only ever went out in cities where we traveled. Where no one would know who either of us was.” My finger followed the line of a foxglove curving along the outside of my forearm. Its poisonous nature wasn’t lost on me. "And I still don't understand, but I try not to think about it now."
Thoughtfulness stole over her features, so different from what I expected. Derision, maybe. Pity. Not... understanding.
When she didn’t say anything, I continued. “We were whatever we were for a couple of years. Long enough to get attached but not long enough for it to be anything else." A spike of old memories prodded me, bringing up a million little things lost to time and hurt. The scent of her perfume, one I'd never be able to smell again without hating it. The fall of the blunt, blonde bob she never let me run my fingers through.
"Did something happen? Or..." Olivia's voice cut across the memories gripping me.
"Yeah." It wasn't something I talked about; the wounds cut too deep. My teammates knew. Hell, anyone who followed sports five years ago probably knew. Telling her now was like overusing an already sore muscle. An ache, deeper than maybe it should have been, settled in the center of my chest. "When you Googled me, before, what did you find?"
"A lot of statistics I don't understand. Something about hat tricks and assists."
"Anything else?" The angle of her head as she met my eyes told me enough. "The photoshoot, or..." I trailed off at the familiar furrowing of her brow. "Just the photoshoot then." I almost wished she knew about the rest. It would make it easier.
But what would she think of me once I told her? “Nora was... well... do you want to see it? There are tons of videos of that game.”
