6. Ethan

CHAPTER 6

ETHAN

Careening down the rink, I get myself in position to receive the puck, quickly gathering it and flicking it off to my right. We’ve practiced this play a million times over, and when it shoots back to me, I send it toward the net. Holding my breath, I watch it fly, skimming the goalie’s shoulder before whacking into the back of the net.

“Fuck yeah!” I punch the air while the fans in the arena go nuts. It’s not the roar of a Colorado crowd, but there are enough people here cheering us on.

My teammates skate toward me, smacking me on the helmet as we celebrate the goal together.

We’ve got three minutes left in the game, and if we can defend our goal, we’re going to win this. Yes! I can taste the Stanley Cup playoffs. At this rate, we’ll make first round, and I can’t fucking wait!

I’m living out my dreams right now, and I’m pumped.

Coach pulls me off rotation and I jump into the box, cheering on my team as they keep our goal clean and nearly score again. The buzzer sounds and we erupt, jumping back onto the ice and celebrating the win.

This was an epic battle, and we’re high on adrenaline as we pile on top of one another. Casey’s pounding me on the back and laughing. “Yaaassss! We did it, man! We fucking did it!”

I slap his helmet, giddy with this triumph.

An away game against one of the strongest teams in the league. We’re going to be celebrating tonight!

We finally skate off the ice, enduring interviews as we make our way to the lockers. I say all the things I’m supposed to say, playing it cool while itching to get out of my sweaty gear and call my wife. She said she was going to be watching the game. I wanted her here with me, but work has taken over her life, so it’s hard to pin her down.

I try not to complain, but it riles me pretty bad.

I miss the days when she’d make herself available to me.

Now I’m slotted in, and as much as I want her to progress and succeed in her career… a selfish part of me wishes she wasn’t so fucking motivated. I miss my girl. I miss looking into the stands and finding her pretty face.

I miss walking out of the arena and having her jump into my arms.

I thought when she finally graduated and we got married that things would be different. No more long-distance from Nolan to Centennial. And that first year, it was fucking awesome. But since she got this new job with the more impressive agency… it’s sucked.

It’s a strategic move on her part. Leave the smaller agency to advance up the food chain. But she’s stepped down in position to get into this prestigious firm and is basically a gopher for this agent I can’t stand. He’s a total fuckwit, and the big boss above him isn’t much better. She’s at their beck and call and will drop anything to be anywhere and do anything.

It pisses me off to no end.

My lil’ mouse is worth so much more than that, but do you think I can convince her?

She’s determined to see this through and work her way up the ranks.

“This opportunity came to me, and I have to take it!” she argued the last time we fought about it.

“What about law school? What about becoming an agent? What about representing female athletes?”

“This job will get me there! I don’t have to have a law degree to do this, okay?”

“You do if you want to represent pro athletes. You had a plan, Mick. You?—”

“Plans change, okay? Ryan has assured me that he’ll get me to where I want to be. I just have to put in my time and work my way up in the company.”

Ryan. I fucking hate that guy.

I finally met him at the Christmas party last year and instantly didn’t like him. He’s smarmy and false, and I can’t believe Mikayla doesn’t see right through him. She’s so desperate to make it that she’s stopped seeing things clearly, and no matter how much I beg her to take notice, she won’t.

I dump my stick and start unlacing my skates, my mood turning black as those around me celebrate our win. I try to smile along with them, but all I want to do is talk to Mick and celebrate with her. Damn, I wish she was here.

Snatching my phone out of my locker, I head to the back corner and call her. It’s still noisy as hell, but I press my finger to my ear and wait for her to answer.

Which she doesn’t.

“Hey, you’ve reached Mikayla Galloway. I’m not available to take your call right now. Please leave me a message, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Thanks.”

I miss her old message, her voice bubbly and playful as she told whoever was calling that she was busy, and depending on the quality of your message, she might consider returning you call. Instead, I’m listening to this formal bullshit and missing her with an ache that’s making me vile.

With a growl, I slam my phone back into my locker and stalk to the showers. I take my sweet time and eventually amble out of the locker room for another set of interviews before making my way back to the hotel.

Casey convinces me to join him at the bar, and I reluctantly go for drinks with all the other guys who are flying solo tonight. I down a beer while I listen to them go on about how great we played. I want to join them, but I can’t stop looking at my phone and wondering why Mick hasn’t called me back yet. I didn’t leave a message, but she’ll get a missed call notification.

Come on, baby. Where the fuck are you?

A few pretty women have joined us and are lounging on the single men’s knees… and one married guy.

I see you, Lawson. You cheating asshole.

I watch the girls’ glossy lips smile. The guys hold them close and laugh along with whatever they’re saying. The sounds go muted around me, and I nearly miss Casey’s voice. Actually, I do, until he nudges me in the arm and asks, “Who the fuck is that?”

I glance at his phone, snatching it out of his hand when I notice the guy standing next to Mick.

It’s the agency’s social media account, and my lil’ mouse is standing beside a tall athlete, laughing at whatever he’s saying, while Ryan is on her other side, his arm around her waist and his hand resting on her hip like she’s with him and not my fucking wife!

I frown at the image, realizing quickly that it was only just posted. Now I know why she wasn’t answering her phone before. She’s busy schmoozing—her word, not mine. I glare at the three of them, torturing myself with every detail of the photo, until I spot something that makes my stomach twist into a sick knot.

“I’m out,” I growl, thrusting Casey’s phone back at him and jerking away from the table.

“You know the guy?” Casey calls after me.

“She works with him,” I shout over my shoulder, practically snarling the words as I stalk to the elevator and head up to my room.

My blood is boiling by the time I swipe my keycard, and I swear to God, I’m?—

The phone in my pocket starts buzzing and I wrench it out, swiping my thumb across the screen and spitting, “Well, I see you’re having a busy night!”

“Yeah, sorry I missed your call, but congratulations on the win!” Mikayla’s voice pitches with excitement, and I can’t enjoy any of it.

Slumping onto the bed, I glare around my hotel suite, hating that she’s not here with me. Hating that she’s at some event with her sleazy colleagues and?—

“I didn’t manage to catch the whole game, but I saw your final goal and scared the crap out of the lady standing beside me when I cheered for you.” She laughs, and I manage a soft snicker. At least she saw that part. It was my only goal of the game, and she saw it. That should make me happy, right?

“Where are you tonight?”

“Well…” She huffs. “I was supposed to be at home in my boxers and your hockey jersey watching the game and cheering you on, but I got a last-minute call from Ryan and had to drag my ass down to some party thing and schmooze a few athletes while being his personal gopher.”

“Ryan does that a lot, huh,” I grit out, failing to keep my voice calm and even.

She pauses, obviously picking up on my mood. “He sure does. I seriously don’t know how the guy managed to get anything done before I came to work for him,” she jokes, and I can’t even muster a smile.

All I can see is that asshole’s hand on her hip. All I can see is her ringless wedding finger resting against her stomach as she laughed at what was being said and—fuck! Do I call her on it?

I should shut my mouth and not get into a big fight, but I can’t help myself.

“So, yeah, I’ve been stuck at this party thing and?—”

“Looks like it’s not the worst night of your life,” I grumble.

“What?”

“Casey showed me a post. Looks like the schmoozing is going well.”

“Ugh, really? Which picture did they post?” She puts me on speaker so she can check, and I direct her to the place I saw it. “Oh phew, that’s not too bad. I look half decent. I don’t even know why they include me in this stuff. I’m a nobody at the agency. Ryan just dragged me over to meet Jabari Williams. He’s an up-and-comer in the basketball scene. The kid’s got skills. It was kinda cool to meet him.”

“Yeah, schmoozing your ass off, I see.”

She goes quiet and I glare at the wall, waiting for it…

“Okay, what is your problem?” Her voice turns snappy. “This is my job. I have to do whatever these agents ask me to. We’ve talked about this. If I have to show up last minute at a party and talk sweet to some athletes, then I’ll do it.”

“The guy’s got his hands all over you.”

“What? No, he doesn’t!” she snaps, then sighs. “Oh, you mean Ryan. Yeah, the guy’s a little handsy, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“He’s more than handsy. He’s the most demanding agent you work with. He’s always calling you out to last-minute stuff, and you go without argument.”

“I have to. It’s my job. He’ll be the one writing my performance review.”

“You work so much fucking overtime for that guy. He’s taking advantage of you.”

She lets out a tired sigh. “Look, a year or two of servitude is going to get me where I need to go. I just have to muscle through this phase, and if I can prove myself, then I’ll start getting athletes assigned to me, and if I’m really good, they’ll give me my own gopher who I will treat so much fucking better than Ryan treats me.”

I scoff because I don’t know what else to say.

“Come on, Ethan,” Mick whines. “How many times do we have to have this conversation?”

I grit my teeth and shake my head. “Did he tell you not to wear your rings as well?”

She goes quiet again, and I can picture her face. She’s either doing her guilty blush or her eyes are narrowing in anger.

Her voice is icy soft when she finally replies. “Yeah, I was rushing out of the house, and I forgot to put them on.”

“Why weren’t you wearing them? I never take my ring off.” I lift my hand, flicking the band with my thumbnail.

“Because you have a simple gold band. My rings are huge, okay? That diamond catches on everything. When I’m home, I take it off, and I wasn’t expecting to have to get all dolled up and be running out the door tonight. It was a simple mistake.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Ethan,” she warns me. “Don’t be a douche about this. They all know I’m married to you. It’s not a big deal.”

“Yeah, I’m not sure Ryan’s aware.”

“Believe me, he’s aware. You don’t have to worry about anything with that idiot. Like I’d let him cross any kind of line. He’s a colleague, that’s it.” She huffs. “I’ve got you. Why would I want anybody else?”

I roll my eyes and try to keep my voice calm and even. “I’m not worried about you cheating on me. I just hate the way that guy treats you. And I don’t like him holding you in a photograph like you’re his and not mine!”

Okay, so I’m losing the calm battle.

“I am yours. Always and forever, remember?” Mick tries to mollify me.

All I can do is grumble, “Yeah, well, doesn’t look that way in the fucking photograph.”

She grunts, and I can feel our argument escalating. I’m doing this. I’m fueling the fire, and I need to quit it and end this call on something nice, but I’m too riled for sweet sentiments. Instead, I clench my jaw and go quiet, willing myself not to say anything dumb.

“Ethan, you’re the guy I married, okay? Don’t read into one stupid photograph like it means everything. Ryan is a douche, but for now, I work for him, and I won’t risk losing a great opportunity because you’re feeling jealous. I’m sorry this photo is pissing you off, but you have to trust me.”

“It’s not just the photo. I tried calling you after the game and?—”

“I was in the middle of a conversation and couldn’t take your call right then. Jeez, I have a life outside your hockey career, Ethan. I’m not some hockey wife who can follow you around the country, like my only goal is to live off your wealth and be a pretty face by your side when you’re leaving the arena.”

“I’m not asking?—”

“That would kill me, okay? And you knew that when you married me. I thought you wanted me to have a career of my own.”

I squeeze my eyes shut and pinch my nose. “I do.”

“But only if I can still be at your beck and call, right?”

“No, Mick, of course not! I just…”

“You just what? What do you want from me?” Her voice is getting snappier by the second, and I can’t see things deescalating unless I wrap up this call.

I’d usually fight this out like we always do—get a little explosive and then work through it—but I don’t think there’s anything I can say right now that will get us moving forward.

So, I go for an easy out.

“Nothing,” I murmur. “I guess I just miss you.”

She sighs. “I miss you too. But you’re home on Friday, right?”

“Yeah.” I scrub a hand down my face. “I’ll see you then.”

“I love you.”

“Yeah, love you too.”

We say it, but it doesn’t really sound like we mean it—two grumpy-ass voices muttering the L-word before hanging up.

Is she still feeling as pissed off as I am?

Slumping back on the bed, I drop my phone and stare at the ceiling, a flash of worry coursing through me.

Fuck.

I feel like I’m losing my wife, and I don’t know how to stop this thing from falling apart.