4. Tom

Chapter 4

Tom

S tanding in front of the bathroom mirror, I adjusted my tie with a practiced motion. The reflection staring back at me was rugged, a weathered face with dark hair graying at the temples. I could almost see the shadows of my goddamn youth in my own eyes—intense, brooding, and maybe a bit too hardened by life’s relentless grind.

I hated these kinds of events. The forced smiles, the shallow congratulations, the meaningless small talk that came with awards ceremonies. But tonight was unavoidable. The Lifetime Achievement Award was one of the highest honors in college hockey. Skipping it would send the wrong message to everyone—the players, the fans, even my rivals.

I tugged at my collar, trying to ease the tightness around my neck. Despite my discomfort, I knew I had to get through it. My image depended on it. My reputation as an authoritative and successful coach was at stake.

In the mirror, my eyes bore into my own reflection. Piercing blue, intimidating—just like everyone always said. Yet beneath that surface lay a storm of emotions I’d never let anyone see.

The memory of Nick flashed across my mind as I straightened my jacket—a highlight reel from his latest NHL game had played on TV earlier today. Each goal he scored twisted the knife deeper into wounds that never seemed to heal. I was proud, yeah. And it wasn’t like I needed recognition. But fuck if I didn’t want to share this with him. And he continued to pretend like he woke up a hockey player without any help whatsoever, especially not from his fucking father.

I exhaled sharply and forced myself to focus on the task at hand. Adjusting the cufflinks on my sleeves, I mentally prepared for what lay ahead. This wasn’t just about accepting an award; it was about maintaining control over a life that constantly threatened to spiral out of it.

Stepping back from the mirror, I took one last look at myself—tall, muscular, every bit the imposing figure people expected me to be. The tie was perfect now, not a hair out of place.

With a final nod to my reflection, I turned away from the mirror and headed out of the bathroom. The night loomed ahead like an unwelcome opponent on game day—something to be conquered, not enjoyed.

It was time to face the music, even if every note felt off-key.

A knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts. For a second, I thought it might be...

But I pushed the thought away. Why the hell was she even on my mind? It had been months. Whatever it was between us lasted three weeks, maybe...

But fuck, those three weeks...

And then, everything changed when I found out who she really was. That should have been enough to make me stay away. And I had. But still...

I wanted her.

I still fucking wanted her.

My jaw tightened as I reached the door.

Fucking Janet.

I didn’t need this tonight. Irritation already gnawing at me, I swung the door open to see my ex standing there, looking like she owned the place. Her expression was tight, her eyes sharp, piercing through me with that familiar judgment.

Janet had always had a way of making herself the center of attention. Tall and elegant, with dark hair that framed her face perfectly, she wore a sleek black dress that clung to her like it was made for her alone. She was the picture of sophistication and control, an image she never failed to project.

“Thomas,” she began, her voice cool and measured.

“Janet,” I replied curtly, already knowing where this conversation was heading.

Her eyes narrowed slightly as she stepped into my apartment without waiting for an invitation. The smell of her expensive perfume filled the room, making it feel smaller, more claustrophobic.

“I need to talk to you about Nick’s mortgage payment coming up,” she said, cutting straight to the chase.

Of course, money. It was always about money with Janet. She had a knack for turning every conversation into a transaction, and tonight was no different.

“Nick’s mortgage is his own business,” I replied tersely. “We’ve been through this. He's a grown-ass man playing in the NHL."

“Well, he never learned business from you,” she countered, her tone icy. “He didn't learn a lot from you, actually."

"Just how to make a livelihood," I muttered.

I could feel my irritation growing with every word that left her mouth. Tonight of all nights, I didn’t have time for this. But Janet didn’t care about timing or my plans; she never had.

I clenched my fists at my sides, struggling to keep my composure. The awards ceremony loomed in my mind like an impending storm cloud, and here I was dealing with Janet’s demands yet again.

She did it on purpose.

Fucking cunt.

“I don't give a shit,” I finally said through gritted teeth. “I have some place to be. Are we done?"

“No,” she snapped back, her eyes flashing with anger. “We’ll talk about it now.”

I exhaled sharply, knowing there was no easy way out of this confrontation. The evening ahead suddenly felt even more exhausting than it already had been.

And somewhere in the back of my mind, despite everything else going on, thoughts of her— Ally —still lingered like an unwelcome guest at a party I couldn’t escape from.

"Nick's mortgage is his own damn business," I repeated, my voice edging on a growl. "He's not a kid anymore."

Janet's eyes narrowed, her lips thinning into a tight line. "You never did understand, did you? He might be an adult, but he still needs guidance."

"Guidance?" I scoffed. "He doesn't need me to hold his hand. He's in the NHL, for Christ’s sake."

She stepped closer, her perfume suffocating the room. "And look where your guidance got him—a fractured relationship with his father and financial troubles."

"That's on him," I snapped back. "I taught him how to be strong, how to succeed."

"You taught him how to be just like you—cold and distant," she shot back, her words like daggers.

The room seemed to shrink as our argument escalated, the air thick with years of unresolved tension.

"And you made him weak," I retorted, knowing it would sting.

Janet’s eyes flashed with anger. "You think strength is pushing everyone away? Look at yourself, Thomas. You’ve lost everything that matters because you can't let anyone in." Before I could respond, she added, “And you dragged Nick into your pathetic mid-life crisis because you managed to find someone willing to spread her legs —"

My glare hardened at the mention of Ally. “Don't."

Janet crossed her arms and gave me a smug look, her eyes glinting with satisfaction. “You owe me, Thomas. After the mess you made at the Masquerade, I think it’s the least you can do.”

I stiffened at the mention of that night. My thoughts immediately shifted to Ally, and a familiar frustration and protectiveness surged through me. Janet’s always had a way of digging up the past when it suited her.

“That’s got nothing to do with you,” I growled, my temper rising.

The Masquerade had been months ago, but the memories still haunted me—memories of attending with Ally, of the connection we shared, and of everything that had fallen apart since. I hadn’t seen her in months, but the mere mention of her stirred something raw in me. I was still protective, even though I shouldn’t be.

Janet smirked, clearly enjoying the effect her words had on me. “Oh, it has everything to do with me. You think you can just walk away from your responsibilities? From your mistakes?”

My fists clenched at my sides. “This isn’t about responsibility or mistakes. This is about you trying to control everything and everyone around you.”

She stepped closer, her eyes boring into mine. “And what about Ally? You think she doesn’t matter in all of this? You think you can just brush off what happened between you two?”

The sound of Ally’s name on Janet’s lips was like a punch to the gut. It brought back everything I’d tried to bury—the guilt, the longing, the unresolved feelings that still lingered despite my best efforts to move on.

“Leave her out of this,” I said through gritted teeth.

Janet laughed bitterly. “You’re so predictable, Thomas. Always trying to protect what’s already broken.”

I took a deep breath, trying to keep my composure. The last thing I needed was to lose control in front of Janet, especially with so much at stake tonight.

“This conversation is over,” I said firmly.

"I don't think so," she said.

“You caused a lot of trouble with that little fling of yours. You think I don’t know what’s been going on? Nick does too, by the way. You’re lucky it didn’t blow up even more than it did.” Janet’s voice was a sharp blade, slicing through the already thin thread of my patience.

I clenched my fists so hard my knuckles turned white. “That’s enough, Janet,” I growled, my voice dangerously low.

Images of Ally flooded my mind—the night at the Masquerade, her laughter mingling with the music, the way her eyes lit up when she looked at me. Then everything spiraled—Nick finding out, the mess that followed. I didn’t owe Janet any explanations, especially not about Ally. But damn it, she knew exactly how to twist the knife.

“Don’t act like you’re innocent in all this,” she continued, ignoring my warning. “You think you can just walk away from your responsibilities and leave everyone else to pick up the pieces?”

I took a step closer to her, narrowing the distance between us. “This conversation is over,” I repeated, barely containing my anger.

She laughed bitterly. “Over? It’s never over with you, Thomas. You think you can just shut me out and everything will magically fix itself? Newsflash: it won’t.”

Her words echoed in the room, each one landing like a punch to the gut. She wasn’t wrong—nothing had been fixed since that night with Ally. If anything, things had only gotten more complicated.

But I couldn’t let Janet see how much her words affected me. She thrived on that power, on knowing she could still get under my skin after all these years.

“Get out,” I said firmly, my voice cold and final.

She smirked, taking a step back but not breaking eye contact. “Fine,” she said coolly. “But don’t think for a second this is over.”

As Janet headed for the door, she couldn't resist one last jab. "You should be careful about the type of girls you get involved with, Thomas. Ally’s not exactly a step up from the mess you’ve already made."

The words landed like a slap, and my fists clenched at my sides. The rage surged through me, and it took every ounce of self-control not to lash out. Defending Ally felt like the right thing to do, but I knew it would only fuel Janet's fire. She thrived on getting a rise out of me, and tonight wasn’t the night to give her that satisfaction.

Anymore than she already fucking had.

I swallowed hard, my jaw tight. “Get out,” I repeated, my voice low and menacing.

Janet smirked, clearly pleased with herself. “Touchy subject?” she asked mockingly. She lingered at the doorway, savoring her victory. "Nick is the man he is because of me. Not you."

"And you've babied him his whole life, that he has no goddamn backbone," I snapped.

"Oh, I think he has one," Janet quipped, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Or else you wouldn't have ended up in a jail cell with a black eye, would you?"

My jaw tightened, anger flaring up inside me. "Get the fuck out, Janet."

She smirked, waving her fingers in a mock farewell. The door shut behind her with a resounding thud.

I stood there, fists still clenched, every muscle in my body taut with rage. The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by the sound of my own heavy breathing.

I ran my hands through my hair, trying to calm the storm inside me. I couldn’t believe I’d let her get under my skin like that. But that was Janet’s specialty—knowing exactly how to push my buttons, especially before something important.

And she had succeeded.

"Fuck," I muttered under my breath.

I walked over to the small bar cart in the corner of the room and poured myself a glass of whiskey. The amber liquid swirled as I lifted it to my lips, the burn of alcohol doing little to ease the turmoil inside me.

Janet’s words echoed in my mind, each one cutting deeper than the last. She knew exactly where to hit me, reminding me of my failures as a father and a… We were never married, thank God. But I wasn't a great partner. Neither was she.

The memory of that night—Nick’s anger, his fists flying—played out in my mind like a nightmare I couldn’t escape.

I downed the whiskey in one gulp and set the glass down with more force than necessary. Tonight was supposed to be about celebrating my achievements as a coach, not rehashing old wounds. But now all I could think about was how fucked up everything had become.

The awards ceremony loomed ahead like an unwelcome opponent on game day. I had to pull myself together. There was no room for distractions or emotional baggage tonight. This award was important—for my career and for maintaining control over the narrative of my life.

I took a deep breath and straightened my tie once more, glancing at my reflection in the mirror. Tall, muscular, imposing—everything people expected me to be. But beneath that facade lay a man who had lost more than he cared to admit.

Another deep breath and I forced myself to focus on what lay ahead. This night wasn’t about Janet or Nick or any of the bullshit from the past.

It was about me.

And I wasn’t going to let anyone take that away from me.

Not tonight.

My thoughts drifted back to Ally, and a wave of guilt washed over me. She didn’t deserve to be dragged into this mess between Janet and me. Hell, none of it was her fault. Our time together had been brief but intense—something I couldn’t forget even if I tried.

I straightened my jacket again and took a deep breath. There was no point dwelling on it now; I had an awards ceremony to attend. My reflection in the mirror reminded me of what needed to be done tonight—put on a strong front, accept the award, and get through it without any more complications.

With one last look around the house, I headed out the door and locked it behind me. The night loomed ahead like an unwelcome challenge, but I was determined to face it head-on.

I just hoped I could keep it together long enough to get through the ceremony without losing my goddamn mind.