The Hockey Star’s Remorse

Chapter 4

Evie

Jasper is being Jasper again. He’s going around the office swearing up and down how he bagged the biggest client for the firm. The worst part is how people are eating up his antics. |, for one, am not finding his little parade cute.

He finally made his rounds, stopping at my desk. He leans against it casually. Victory is plastered on his face.

He sighs lazily. “How does it feel to be two days away from losing your job, Evie?”

“Bite me,” | mutter, typing away at my computer.

“Oh, come on,” he whines teasingly. “Don’t be like that. It’s a dog eat dog world here. Don’t hate the player, hate the game.”

“Oh, | don’t hate you Jasper,” | say sweetly, turning in my chair to smile. “I just think that nepotism is cheating. | mean come on. Really? Who is it this time? Daddy? Or was it your Uncle.”

Jasper looks over at my computer screen, sucking in a sharp breath. “Your email looks dryer than the Sahara. You better get on that, Eve.”

He pushes off my cubicle, swaggering down the row to his own office space. With his back turned to me, | gather the courage to flip him the bird beneath anyone’s line of sight.

Acough came from behind me. | froze.

“Evie,” the gruff voice of my boss spoke grimly.

“Mr. Erickson,” | squeaked. “I’m so sorry—*

“Aword in my office please,” he said, striding off into that large perfect corner office.

| quickly stand up and scurry behind him. Just as | pass Jasper’s office, he gave an amused smirk and waved. Waved. The bastard waved!

My finger nails bite into my palms as | find my place before his desk.

“Shut the door,” he says grimly.

| quickly do as he asked. | turn back to him. His demeanor changed. He looked at me almost with pity. “| know | need to find a client,” | began. “I’ve been working so hard—*

“| know,” he sighed. “It’s not easy starting from zero. And | know making those connections are hard. But | can’t keep making excuses for you, Evie.”

| nodded, my chest tightening. “Trust me. | know.”

“You have to bring me a client,” he says. “Otherwise I'll have to let you go.”

“I'll get you that client,” | promise. “And it’s going to be huge.”

He chuckled. “I can’t wait.”

Hours passed. Still no leads. | groaned, dropping my head to the desk tiredly. | felt the vibration of my phone against the surface. | threw my hand over, sliding my phone aggressively across the desk.

Lifting my head again, | looked at the notification.

From Aria.

We're still on for tonight, right?

| shot straight up. Shoot. | completely forgot about tonight! | check the time. | didn’t even have time to change. The game starts at seven and I’m too far out from the arena to add another stop.

Yup! Totally. I'll just meet you there.

The text bubbles appear.

You forgot, didn’t you...

My fingers fly over the keyboard in an attempt to defend my honor. No! I’m on my way.

| throw my stuff into my purse and scramble to the elevator. Only, the doors were already shutting. And Jasper was the only one inside.

“Hold—" “See ya, Evie,” he calls. And the doors shut.

| curse every violent curse | could think of in my head, before darting down the emergency staircase. The backs of my heels were stinging with every step.ConTEent bel0ngs to Nôv(e)lD/rama(.)Org .

| finally reach the bottom and run out onto the bustling sidewalk. Hailing a cab, | jump in and buckle my seat belt. “Clayton Center,” | huff. “Step on it.”

The cab driver acknowledges my request and hit the gas. It took about thirty minutes to pull up at the entrance. | hand over the fare and ran towards the entrance. | knew Aria would wait for me near the planters before the security checkpoint.

Without fail, there she was. An amused look was spread across her face, and her arms folded casually. “Didn’t forget, did we?” | was practically wheezing. “I had a lot going on at work,” | explain tiredly.

“Ugh, work. | don’t want to hear another word about work,” she groans. “I want to whisk my problems away by watching hot men beat each other up.”

| couldn't help it. The laughter just starts bubbling out of me. “Well, don’t let me stop you, Ari,” | say. We go in together.

I stuck out like a sore thumb in her charcoal gray pencil skirt and cream colored blouse. Everyone wore their Thunderbolt jerseys. Some had painted faces.

Ari had gotten glass seats. | mean we were practically on the ice at that point. “How much were these tickets, Ari?”

She looked over with a deadpan look. “You don’t wanna know.”

I snorted. “Fine. Don't tell me.”

Several things occurred before the start of the game. The national anthem was played. The opposing teams starting lineup was announced.

Then the lights go out. Loud pounding music began to play and the announcer called everyone to attention. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he says. “Here are your Thunderbolts!”

The arena erupted into roars of support as names were called. | tuned out most of it. | was never much into sports, but | was here because my friend had asked me.

But there was one name that pierced the quiet of my mind. “And your team captain— Timothy Hayes!”

| didn’t think this place could get any louder than it already was. They were all chanting his name. Every single person was losing their minds.

| looked over at Aria again. She was screaming and pounding on the glass like a maniac as he appeared on the ice. His proud smile was prominent on his face as he glided around the rink, lifting his stick in the air.

Oh, no.

He had grown even hotter since the last time | had seen him. | wasn’t sure if it was the hint of stubble or the look of him in his uniform, but it shook me to my core.

“You good,” Aria asked, nudging me.

| jumped. “Yes. I’m fine,” | laughed awkwardly.

She didn’t look convinced. But the game went on and Aria looked like she was having the time of her life. I, on the other hand, felt completely exposed.

| was so in my head about him being on that ice, that | completely missed the incoming swarm of bodies approaching the glass. The moment there was impact, | screamed, throwing my arms over my face.

“Get him, Hayes! Fight him!”

| dropped my arms, watching the brawl that broke out right in front of me. Twelve fully grown men were pressed against the glass.

No no no... he was right there! | held my breath hoping he wouldn't recognize me. Whistles were blown and refs intervened, ripping the players from each other.

He was laughing, shoving the player one last time before slowly backing away. He was about to turn around, but he did a double take. His eyes set on mine.

| quickly avert my gaze. It was going to be fine. Just because he saw me doesn’t mean he'll recognize me or even see me after this. It will all be ok.

So the game continued on. It seemed like he picked up his game after that fight. He ended up scoring three goals for the Thunderbolts, ending the game with a score of three to one.

“What a game,” Aria squealed. “I mean, there’s nothing more dramatic than a bench-clearing brawl!”

I nod. “Yea,” | swallowed. “Hey, | have to go to the bathroom really quick. I'll meet you at the planters.”

“Sure thing,” she grinned. “Go, Bolts!”

“Go, Bolts,” | laughed awkwardly.

| turned around with a sigh. Now to navigate this maze of an arena. The signage was so confusing. | ended up just turning wherever it felt right.

| thought | had found it, when a firm hand grips my wrist. | spin around, ready to slap the audacity out of this person. Only | was met with my worst nightmare.

“Evie?”

| froze, stumbling over what to say. What was there even to say?

ys

“Look at you,” he says in awe. “You look great.”

“Yea,” | swallowed. “Thanks. You look— great too.”

He laughed, running a hand through his sweaty hair. “Don’t lie,” he joked. “I’m a mess.”

“You played... well,” | said awkwardly.

“They don’t pay me the kind of salary they do to be mid-tier,” he chuckled. “How have you been? Damn, it’s been— how long?” “Six years,” | answer. Damn it. | answered that too quickly. Now he probably thinks I’ve been obsessing over him. He tilted his head, looking at me fully. “Yea. Six years,” he repeats softly.

| looked around. My stomach was twisting from anxiety.

“| was just looking for the bathroom, | have to go—*

“Just hear me out,” he begs.

“| really have a bad stomach ache,” | whined. “Can you just show me where it is?”

“Just one question and | promise to show you where it is,” he says firmly.

| fold my arms. “Fine. What?”

“Why'd you leave that night?”

l inhaled deeply. “Something came up.”

“You ghosted me,” he swallowed. “You left me and didn’t even tell me why.”

“Is this the bathroom,” | ask quickly.

“Evie, stop dodging the question. Why did you leave me?”

“Why do you care,” | mutter. “You don’t need to have me when you have all your adoring fans anyways.”

“That’s not why you left,” he says plainly.

“It really was just a misunderstanding,” | groaned. “It's probably not a good idea that | stay around any longer, just in case there’s Paparazzi nearby. You don’t want me ruining your reputation.”

“At least, let me get your number or something,” he urges quickly. “I have so much | want to say that you never gave me the chance to tell you.”

“Take me to the bathroom and I'll think about it,” | say, lifting my chin. Tim nods, placing his hands tiredly on his hips. “Alright. Fine,” he agrees.

The moment he brought me to the bathroom, | quickly rushed inside. | wasted no time stepping onto the metal toilet paper box and hoisting myself up through the cracked window.

Goodbye, Timothy Hayes. Good riddance.

And with that, | prayed the size of this city would put some distance between us.