Nate, p.21
Nate, page 21
part #10 of Las Vegas Sidewinders Series
“Was that your first pro fight?” Zaan asked, dropping down beside him once the rest of the team filed into the locker room.
Nate nodded, swiping at the blood on his lip.
“You should have someone look—” Zaan began.
“It’s fine,” Nate interrupted. “Thanks, but I’m good.”
“Calloway. With me.” Coach Barnett gave him a pointed look as he walked out of the room.
Nate followed him to his office and shut the door. “What’s up, Coach?”
“What the hell was that? You’ve been playing for me for five months, and I’ve never seen you lose your temper like that. I know there’s a lot going on in your life, but if you can’t keep it under control on the ice, I’m gonna bench you.”
“It won’t happen again.”
“Listen to me.” Coach Barnett met his gaze unwaveringly. “I get it. I know what you’re feeling—different circumstances but the same damn gut-wrenching indigestion in the pit of your stomach. You can’t let it get into your head or that bastard wins. Doesn’t matter who leaked it, who betrayed you, or how it happened. What matters is that you survived. Don’t give in now because that sonofabitch is out there laughing. Take all that bottled up anger and put it in the net. Get out there and give me your first career hat trick. Every time the puck has touched your stick tonight, it’s been magic. Channel it into the net, not your fists. Now get out of here.”
“Thanks, Coach.”
Five minutes into the second period, Nate took a shot from the blue line that somehow sailed past the defensemen in front of the net and glided gracefully right between the goalie’s legs. As his teammates surrounded him for a group hug, the roaring in his ears was different but no less intense.
“That’s what I’m talkin’ about,” Coach Barnett murmured under his breath as Nate sat back down.
“You’re on fire tonight,” Zaan said. “Way to manage all that energy.”
“Only thing I’m managing is my temper,” Nate muttered.
“Whatever you’re doing, keep doing it.”
Scoring his first professional hat trick did a lot to settle his racing thoughts and the fire raging in his gut. As baseball caps poured onto the ice like rain, as was the tradition when any player scored three goals in one game, a little of the tightness in his heart started to let up. It went from a burning vise threatening to choke him to the faint sting of a rubber band that occasionally zinged in the background. His teammates were excited, and even a few of the Generals gave him a nod as he skated back to the bench and high-fived the rest of the team.
By the time the game was over, he was calm enough to function, but Coach Barnett had kept the press out of the locker room tonight, just to be safe and avoid questions they didn’t want to deal with yet. Hopefully, if they gave it a few more days, the fervor would die down and they could get back to the business of hockey. Nate hoped so anyway because the last two days had been harder than he’d expected. Most of his embarrassment had morphed to anger as he’d shown on the ice tonight, but that wasn’t healthy and he had to push past it. He’d done it once and he’d do it again. Too bad Chelsea’s betrayal still hurt the most. There was an emptiness now that surprised him. She’d become a huge part of his life in a very short time, and it didn’t seem fair to have lost her this way.
“I take it you don’t want to go out tonight,” Tore said as they got dressed.
“No.”
“How about beer and Xbox at my place?” Tore suggested.
“It’ll be fun,” Zaan interjected. “You don’t want to be alone tonight. Come on, let’s hang.”
“I’m in,” Ian said, nodding.
“Okay.” Nate let out a breath. “Let’s do it.”
What else did he have to do? Sitting at home and moping wouldn’t change a damn thing. And no matter how much he wanted to believe he was past the worst of it, something told him it was far from over.
37
Chelsea dropped off two platters of fish and chips and two sodas. She asked the patrons at her table if they needed anything else, and when they said no, she walked into the back and leaned against the cash register. After two weeks of training, tonight was her first night waiting tables on her own, and it was busy. She’d been running from the moment her shift started and hadn’t let up until now. It was after ten and the dinner rush was long since over, but business had been steady all night.
She was grateful for this job that Renee had helped her get. A friend of Renee’s owned it and he’d hired her right off the bat. It was a busy sports bar on the other side of Las Vegas, about as far from the arena and where she lived as possible, so she had high hopes she wouldn’t see anyone she knew on a regular basis. The base pay and tips had been great so far, and tonight she didn’t have to share them with anyone, so she was hoping to catch up on bills after falling behind when she’d quit her job at the paper.
The hostess sat another one of her tables and she sighed, digging her pen out of her pocket and walking in that direction. She saw a familiar head of red hair and slowed to a stop, her heart pounding in frustration.
Shit! How the hell had Lana Carmichael wound up at one of her tables?
She turned around blindly searching for one of the other servers.
“Hey, Vivian, can you take table seventeen for me? It’s someone I—”
“Doll, I wish I could, but both Bonnie and Shirlene called out, and I’ve got two stations right now. Sorry!” Vivian kept going and Chelsea sighed again.
Here went nothing.
She approached the table warily, hoping Lana wouldn’t make a scene. It wasn’t like her. She was a consummate professional, but anything was possible these days. Her life had definitely taken a turn for the shit side of things.
“Hello, Lana.”
“Chelsea.” Lana looked up in surprise. “I didn’t realize you worked here.”
“I had to work somewhere after I quit the Observer.”
“You quit?” Lana asked, frowning.
Chelsea gave a small smile. “I know no one believes me, but that wasn’t my article except for the stuff about Nate’s father. I don’t know what happened or who did what, but I didn’t write that horrible piece of garbage. I told my editor he had to take my name off it and he wouldn’t, so I walked. Now I work here. Anyway, what can I get you to drink?”
“Glass of chardonnay for me.” She glanced at her companion. “Honey?”
“You have Sam Adams?” a handsome man who appeared to be in his mid-thirties asked.
“We have their winter brew right now.”
“Perfect.”
“I’ll be back.” She left as quickly as she could, getting their drink order and hoping she wouldn’t cry. She’d done a lot of that lately. Mostly late at night, when she’d curl up in the dark wearing Nate’s jersey. She put on a brave face for her parents because they were worried about her, but deep down, she was shattered. She’d lost a job she mostly loved and given up on her journalism career altogether. She was on the outs with her best friend, and more than anything else, she’d lost Nate. Sweet, loving Nate who’d given her so much support, and she’d all but stabbed him in the back. The guilt ate at her, and most nights she fell asleep trying to figure out what to do next. There were no answers and that was the most frustrating thing of all.
After she’d taken and placed Lana and her husband’s dinner order—Lana had introduced him when Chelsea had delivered their drinks—she slipped into the bathroom. She wasn’t wearing makeup because it seemed like too much work these days. She looked pale and tired. Splashing cold water on her face, she looked up to see Lana standing beside her, a sympathetic look etched into her pretty features.
“You okay, Chelsea?”
“Just a little tired. Sorry.” She hurriedly washed her hands even though she hadn’t used the bathroom.
“I’m sorry if we’re making you nervous.”
“It’s okay. I’m good. I have to get back out there so—”
“You really didn’t write that article?”
All her resolve disappeared, and Chelsea burst into tears. “No! I love him—why would I do something to hurt him like that?” She leaned her head against the wall, holding a paper towel against her face as she sobbed.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” Lana put a comforting hand on her back. “Really. Please don’t cry.”
“I have to get back to work.” Chelsea straightened up and washed her face again.
“Listen, I’ve banned Marv from the press corps but that doesn’t help you. Is there anything I can do?”
“Even if you wanted to give me my press credentials back, the guys on the team would never trust me, so no, my journalism career is over.”
“Whether you did this or not, you can’t let one mistake derail your whole career. If you did it—”
“I didn’t!” Chelsea’s sadness morphed into anger. “Dammit, I didn’t.”
“I just meant to say, if you did it, apologize and move on. If you didn’t, why aren’t you fighting for the truth? More than that, fighting for Nate?”
“Fighting how? I’m persona non grata with the Sidewinders, and Nate literally walked away from me the last time we talked. I tried to explain to him I didn’t do it, but if he doesn’t believe in me, what is there to fight for? If he loved me the way I love him, he would have believed me, given me a chance to prove it. Instead, he walked away.”
“He was hurt and humiliated.”
“I know. And I don’t want to do anything to stir things up again. He’s playing really well, so maybe it’s better for everyone if I do nothing.”
“Well, you know what’s best for you, but I’d think about it.”
“Either my best friend betrayed me, or one of the guys on the team betrayed both her and Nate because Jen is the only person I told and not long after that, she had a one-night stand with Tore Brekken.”
Lana’s eyes darkened slightly. “Seriously?”
“Now you know why I’m not fighting it. What will this do? What if it’s Tore? Either he or Nate would need to get traded after this and even if Nate and I got back together, I’d be the bimbo who came between teammates.”
“But what if it wasn’t Tore and it was your friend?”
“She’s sworn to me on everything holy that she didn’t do it. I don’t know what to do or who to believe.”
“Let me think on it, okay? Give me a couple of days to do some digging. Can you hang tight until then?”
“I have nothing else to do but hang tight. But thank you. Your faith in me means a lot.”
With the annual Dads’ trip on the horizon, Nate was surprised and excited that his father, stepmother, and baby sister were coming. Though he was playing his ass off, everything else in his life sucked, so the news his family was coming was the first thing to make him smile since Chelsea’s article had been published. Well, Chelsea’s and Marv’s. It still bothered him that she’d co-written a story with him. It wasn’t her style, and he felt a little guilty about not listening to more of her side of the story. At the end of the day, this hadn’t been nearly as humiliating as he’d thought it would. Cody, Toli, and the rest of his teammates had done huge damage control, reaching out to their friends across the league and reminding them of the abuse that so many had secretly suffered. There had been a few offhand remarks about his supposed virginity, but since he’d neither denied nor confirmed it in any way, it hadn’t become a thing.
On the other hand, female fans loved it, and every game produced dozens of women holding signs asking him to marry them, offering to ‘pop his cherry,’ and various other lascivious thoughts. His teammates ate it up, and he had no choice but to laugh along with them, skirting any direct answers to whether or not it was true by saying his sex life was a non-issue. Especially since he’d scored at least one goal in every game since the shit had hit the fan. He’d used that as an excuse not to talk about anything but hockey in post-game interviews and though a few journalists occasionally tried to bring up the abuse story, he’d steered clear of it. Lana had suggested he make a statement at some point, but he simply wasn’t ready. She’d hinted that the dads’ trip might be the perfect time, with his father at his side, but he wasn’t convinced.
“Excuse me, Nate?”
Nate turned to see a man he didn’t recognize. The press had just come into the locker room and this guy was new. “Hi.” He held out his hand and the man shook it.
“I’m Rafe Moreno from Writing Hockey. I had a few questions and wondered if we could talk. Lana said it was okay, but that you had final say on what you wanted to answer.”
“Is this about Chelsea’s story? Did she put you up to this?”
Rafe frowned. “Why would Chelsea put me up to anything? First and foremost, I own Writing Hockey, and second, she quit the day after her article about you was published. She’s not writing anymore.”
“She’s not…writing?” Nate frowned. “Are you sure?”
“Well, we’re not friends or anything, so no, I’m not positive, but she told me after having her name on something she didn’t write, she was stepping away from the industry, possibly going back to school to get her teaching degree or something. She was pretty upset at the time so I didn’t push for more information.”
Nate wasn’t sure what to say to that since he’d had no idea she’d even quit. Jesus, she’d hurt him but since the story had been legit, albeit using information that wasn’t public knowledge, he hadn’t given a second thought to the future of her career. “What did you want to ask me?” he asked at last.
“I wondered why you didn’t release the name of the man who abused you, in the interest of protecting other kids he might be doing this to.”
Nate sighed, staring off into the distance. Did he want to answer this? It would open a whole new can of worms, but at this point, there didn’t seem to be much choice.
“Because he’s dead,” he said at last. “He died in a car accident about five years ago. So he’s not hurting anyone else and I gain nothing by hurting his family.”
38
Hanging out at Keller’s had become a regular thing and though Nate wasn’t even remotely interested in hooking up with women, Tore, Zaan, and Ian were scoring practically every time they went out. The women flocked to Nate since they were fascinated by his virginity, he blew them off, and the other guys picked up where he left off. It would have been entertaining as hell if he hadn’t been so damn depressed. He missed Chelsea, hated his apartment more than ever, and he’d been worried about what he’d told Rafe ever since the words had slipped out of his mouth. Would he put it in a story? It had been three days and so far he hadn’t, but after what had happened with Chelsea, he didn’t trust the media as far as he could throw them.
“You know,” Tore was saying to him. “You’re never going to get over her if you don’t at least talk to other women.”
“Too soon for that.”
“Look at Zaan—he’s been broken up with Lexi like three minutes and he’s got them crawling out of the woodwork.”
“He and Lexi had been apart for a year, they just made it official three weeks ago. This is different.”
“Dude, you’re—” Tore was cut off by a loud, annoyed female voice coming from behind them.
“Tore Brekken, you and I need to have a talk.” Jen approached their table with fire in her eyes.
“Hey, Jen.” Tore looked confused.
“Don’t ‘hey, Jen’ me. I want you to own up to what you did.”
“What did I do?” he asked, frowning.
“Tell Nate it was you.” She had her hands on her hips, her eyes flashing angrily.
“Jen, I don’t think—” Nate began.
“No, you be quiet, Calloway. Even if you weren’t willing to fight for Chelsea, I am. Thanks to Tore, my best friend’s life is ruined, and she thinks it’s my fault. Dammit, I didn’t talk to that stupid reporter, and since I’m the only person she told about you, and Tore is the only person I could have told, it had to be him. I’m telling you now, Tore, I’m not leaving until you confess. And don’t even think about walking away from me or having me thrown out. I already spoke to my attorney—if you don’t talk to me, she’s filing a police report saying you attacked me. We both know it didn’t happen, and it’ll eventually be thrown out of court, but it’ll tie you up in legal fees and the press for months until it gets sorted out. So you need to come clean because I mean business.”
Tore’s mouth fell open and he appeared stunned.
“You just admitted to filing a false police report,” Ian said mildly. “Which is a crime. And though I don’t practice, I’m an attorney myself so I know the law and don’t see what you have to gain here.”
“I’ll happily pay the fine or whatever it turns out to be to get my best friend back,” Jen said quietly. “And you have no proof I said what I just said, so right now this is nothing but posturing.” She turned to Tore. “Why would you do this? Seriously, I don’t want to be a bitch, I just want Chelsea’s name cleared and for her to forgive me for blabbing to you while I was drunk.”
“But you didn’t—” Tore began.
“It was you?” Nate turned to him in disbelief.
“No!” Tore’s face reddened and he pointed a finger at Jen. “What the fuck? You didn’t tell me anything, and I sure as hell didn’t tell that sniveling little weasel Gaston diddly squat! Don’t you dare fucking make this about me.”
He was breathing hard and so was Jen, and they all but squared off, staring the other down.
“Okay, let’s calm down,” Ian said quietly. “Everyone sit down and let’s talk this out. Obviously, something is going on and we need to get to the bottom of it but making a scene in public helps no one, least of all Chelsea and Nate.”
“Here, take my chair,” Nate said automatically, getting to his feet.
“I got one for her,” Zaan called out, pulling one up to the table.
