Chapter 31

CHAPTER 31

Fox

Three-and-a-half years ago

I’d missed my early-morning flight on purpose.

I’d been in Minnesota for two days for an off-season appearance with a bunch of my teammates at a charity event, one of the things I was normally anxious to get back home from. Though not this time, not after talking to a slurring Evie last night.

I rolled over in bed and grabbed my buzzing phone from the nightstand without opening my eyes. I knew it was safe to swipe without checking the screen because there was no way in hell Evie would be out of bed before late this afternoon.

A ray of sun slashed across my face. I threw an arm across my eyes to block it and brought my cell to my ear.

“Hello?”

“Cassidy? It’s Will.”

My agent. I sat up and cleared my throat. Will Koker was as much of a conversationalist as I was, which was one of the things I liked about him. He got to the point. But that also meant when he called, he had a point to make.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“You skipped out last night before we got to talk. What time is your flight today?”

“Was supposed to be a half hour ago. Overslept.”

“Got time for some lunch then?”

Why not?It wasn’t like I wanted to rush home anyway. “Sure.”

“Twelve in the hotel restaurant?”

“Sounds good.”

I stayed in bed another hour before showering and packing my shit. The team travel agent rebooked me on a five o’clock flight, so I figured I’d check out of the room and head to the airport after lunch.

Will was already seated at the table, on his cell phone as usual, when I walked into the restaurant. He waved me over.

“Alright, let me talk to my client,” he said. “But if he agrees, we’re going to need approval of the final copy for the script and an acting coach to work with him on his lines. And of course, first-class accommodations.” He gestured for me to sit and laughed into the phone. “No, thanks. I don’t need any.”

He swiped the phone off and set it down on the table. “Freaking Viagra-type commercial offer for one of my retired clients. I’m presenting the offer over the phone, because there’s a distinct possibility he might punch me when I tell him about it.” Will shook his head. “Why can’t these advertising companies want tennis players or baseball wimps? Nope. They gotta have the biggest, burliest, toughest hockey guys to promote their shit.”

I laughed. “Just putting this out there now. You can decline if they ever come for me. Don’t care how broke I am. Not peddling dick pills.”

Will’s phone vibrated on the table. He checked the screen, but then hit the button at the top. “Sorry about that. Things have been hairy lately.”

“Uh-oh,” I said. “You never turn that thing off. Should I be scared of what this lunch is about?”

“I turn it off.”

“No, you don’t. I saw you answer it at Vince Farone’s funeral.”

“That was an important call. I was negotiating the longest contract extension the league’s ever seen.”

“So is today just a friendly lunch, then? You felt like shooting the shit?”

“Not exactly…”

The waitress came over and asked to take our drink orders. Will ordered a scotch on the rocks. I wasn’t normally a day drinker—or much of a night one, for that matter—but I thought I might need it today. For multiple reasons.

“I’ll take a vodka 7UP.”

“Coming right up.”

Will leaned back in his chair. “Talk to me. What’s going on with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Your game is off. You’re even less friendly than usual. And when I called Doug Allen to open up discussions about another contract extension the other day, he said your coach had mentioned he thought maybe you were looking to retire. He said he usually sees a change in his players right before they hang up their skates. Thought he might be seeing that in you.”

Oh fuck. I scrubbed my hands over my face. “I’m definitely not ready to retire.”

“Something going on? You nursing an injury you don’t want to tell anyone about because you’re afraid you’ll get benched and some whippersnapper will steal your spot?”

“No. It’s not that.”

“Then talk to me. What is going on with you?”

I hesitated.

Will sighed. “Give me a penny.”

“What for?”

He held out his hand. “Just give me a damn penny.”

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the change I had. “I don’t have a penny.”

“Then give me that quarter. It’ll do.”

I picked the coin out of my palm and tossed it over to the other side of the table.

Will caught it. “Thanks. I’m on retainer now.”

“Retainer for what?”

“I might not practice anymore, but I’m still an attorney. Now I’m yours. We have privilege, so tell me what’s going on. You kill someone? Drug problems? A diagnosis you don’t want anyone to know about?”

I rubbed the back of my neck. “It’s not me. It’s Evie.”

“The skater? You two still together?”

I nodded.

“Haven’t seen her around in a while. The other guys brought their wives to the fundraiser last night. Why didn’t you bring her?”

Because I can’t trust her not to disappear into the bathroom stall like Clark Kent and come out Superdrunk. “Evie’s got some issues.”

“Health?”

I met Will’s eyes. “Mental health. She’s also got a drinking problem.”

Will frowned. “Oh, man. I’m sorry to hear that. Has she tried rehab?”

“Three times. A five-day detox and two thirty-day stints.”

“My old man was a drunk. It’s not easy.”

“Was? Is he sober now?”

Will nodded. “I think he’s been clean about ten years.”

“What made him stop drinking?”

“I’m not sure I know the answer to that question. It was after my mom left him with us, but not right away. Probably two years after. He was on and off the wagon from the time they got married until I was twelve. He’d lose his job, we’d go stay at my grandmother’s with my mom for a while, and then he’d show up clean shaven and sober and convince her to come back and give him another chance. But it would never last.” Will shrugged. “Took more than losing everything for him to get better. All those years he tried for my mom. I think he really did love her. But it never stuck until he did it for himself.”

My face fell.

Will noticed and smiled sadly. “Hits home?”

“Right on the damn nose.”

The waitress brought over our drinks. Will held his glass out to me. We clinked and both took healthy swigs. After my agent set his glass down, he folded his hands on the table and leaned forward. “I’m sorry to hear what you’re going through. I really am. But I’m going to give it to you straight. You need to get your head back in the game, or you’re not going to be happy with your renewal. Management doesn’t know what’s going on, so they’re thinking the worst—that you’re on your way down. I can hold off pushing the contract talks any further until the season starts up again so you can show ’em they’re wrong. But you need to find a way to get your shit together.”

I blew out two cheeks of air and nodded. “Got it.”

“If you want to talk, I’m here. The quarter gets you a lot of hours.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

“A few months after we left my dad, I asked my mother if we were going back, like we always did. She said no, so I asked why not? I’ll never forget the answer she gave me. She said, ‘Because I finally figured out that you can’t love an alcoholic into sobriety, but you can love yourself enough to let go.’”

***

I laid back on the paddleboard, set the paddle across my waist, and inhaled the smell of the morning lake. This house…this lake had always been my solace. But the only way I could get any peace lately was to come out here and float.

I’d been back for three days now. Normally when I came home to a shitshow like I had the first night—a dented car, six stitches in Evie’s finger, and a recycle bin that weighed more than the garbage one—Evie would sleep for a day and then cry and apologize. Not this time. She just kept drinking. And I was miserable in my own home. Last night, while we were arguing, I’d thought about going to a hotel. But instead I came out here and laid down on the board to think. By the time I went back inside, she was passed out.

Our relationship wasn’t fun anymore—not that any relationship had to be fun all the time, but there needed to be a balance. This was a seesaw that hadn’t teetered up in a very long time. If Evie were any other woman, I would’ve ended things by now. But she wasn’t. She’d dedicated twenty years to a sport rather than create friends and a life. And the only real person she’d ever been close to was her mother, and that woman would only drag her the rest of the way down. So what was I supposed to do, kick her to the curb? I cared about her, loved her even if I didn’t like her very much. Though what Will had said the other day at lunch kept rattling around in my head. “You can’t love an alcoholic into sobriety, but you can love yourself enough to let go.”

I stayed out on the lake, soaking up the sun for the better part of two hours, trying to figure a way out of this mess. The only conclusion I came to was walking away. I think I’d known for a while that was the only choice. But I wouldn’t leave her high and dry. I’d find her a house and rent it for her so she had a place to go. And I’d be there for her as much as I could, just not as her fiancé and not living in the same house. I’d reach out to her father, too, try to encourage him to work on their relationship again. She was going to need as much support as she could get.

Decision made, I sat up and dug my phone out of my pocket. Lynn Walker was the real estate agent I’d used to buy this house. I scrolled through my contacts until I found her number and hit Call. She answered on the second ring.

“Fox Cassidy. How are you, hun?”

I guess my number had been saved in her phone too. “I’m good. How are you, Lynn?”

“Surviving on coffee and good intentions. What can I do you for, son?”

“Umm... I have a friend looking for a rental, preferably a house in Laurel Lake.”

“I don’t think there’s much in Laurel Lake for rent at the moment.”

“What about Hollow Hills? Somewhere near the rink might work.”

“Let me do some research. Is it for one person or a family?”

“Just one person.”

“What’s the budget for the rent?”

Money was the least of my concerns. “There isn’t one.”

“Any requirements, like a big yard or certain number of bedrooms and baths?”

I shook my head. “Only requirement is it has to be in a good neighborhood and have security. It’s for a woman living by herself.” Neither this town nor the surrounding towns were unsafe, but when Evie drank, she didn’t pay attention to things like locking the door. So a good security system was important.

“Okay. Let me see what I can do, and I’ll get back to you in a jiffy.”

“Thanks, Lynn.”

After I hung up, I stayed out on the lake a little while longer, second-guessing whether I was doing the right thing. But when I walked into the house and found Evie burying a bottle in the garbage can at nine in the morning, I felt better about what I’d set in motion. Now I needed a time when she was actually sober enough to break the news.

“Do you think you could not drink today? I want to sit down and talk later.”

“About what?”

“About us.”

“What, like how you don’t even kiss me anymore?” Evie’s eyes filled with tears. “You don’t even like me, do you?”

I could smell the alcohol on her breath. This wasn’t a conversation I was going to have with her drunk. I might have to wait a while, but I thought it was important for her to understand how I’d come to the decision I had to make.

“Evie—”

She started to undress, pulling off her top first and then reaching for her pants. “I bet you’ll fuck me though, right?”

I wasn’t sure where this was coming from. We hadn’t had sex in weeks. “Evie, stop.”

She didn’t listen. She reached around and unclasped her bra. “Oh, come on. Let’s just do it. It’s the only reason you keep me around and you know it.” Half dressed, she walked over and threw her arms around my neck, pushed up on her toes, and pressed her lips to my chin. “Come on. Touch me.”

“Please stop.”

She grabbed my hand and brought it around to her ass, forcing it on me. “Grab it. It’ll make everything better.”

I shook her off and took a step back. “No, it won’t, Evie.”

“Fucking touch me!”

I swiped my car keys from the hook and headed for the door. Evie continued to scream at the top of her lungs as I walked out. She followed with barely any clothes on as I marched to the car.

“Go in the goddamn house, Evie!”

“No! Come in here and fuck me!”

I shook my head and got in. As I pulled out of the driveway, I saw Mrs. Craddox across the street peeking through her blinds. Great.

I rolled down the window and screamed from the car. “Get in the goddamn house, Evie!”

She flipped me the bird, but turned around and stomped back inside at least.

I didn’t know where the hell to go, so I went to the place where my head was always the clearest: the rink.

Ten hours later, I was lying on my back on the bench in the penalty box. I’d sat in the office most of the day, then once the arena closed, I’d laced up and skated some aggression out. Now I was tired and wanted to go back home, but the thought of sleeping on a twelve-inch-wide wooden plank in the penalty box was actually more appealing. Maybe I’ll go to my mom’s.

I hated to drag people into my business, but I didn’t have the energy for more Evie tonight. I pulled out my phone to call my mom, but then Evie’s name started to flash on the screen.

I sighed and debated answering. By the fourth ring, I decided if I didn’t, she’d only keep calling back. So I swiped.

“Hello?”

She cried into the phone. “You…you’re kicking me out?”

I sat up. “What are you talking about?”

I could barely make out what she was saying, her words so slow and slurred. “The real estate lady… She came by.”

Oh fuck.“Evie, let’s talk tomorrow when you’re sober.”

“We can’t,” she sobbed. “I don’t want to wake up tomorrow.”

“Don’t say that, Evie.”

“But it’s true.”

I stood. “Evie, just sit tight. I’m coming home.”

She sobbed harder.

“Evie, talk to me.”

She steadied herself with a big breath and whispered into the phone. “I gotta go. I’m sorry, Fox.”

Something about the way she said it sent chills up my arms. She sounded so desolate.

“Sorry for what? Evie!”

“Goodbye.”

“Evie—wait!”

The line went silent. I called back, but it rang once and dropped right into voicemail. I called again while running through the rink and out to the car. When she still wouldn’t answer as I started the car, I dialed 911.

“Nine-one-one. State your emergency.”

“I need someone to go to my house. Forty-four Rosewood Lane.”

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

“I think my fiancée is in danger.”

“Is someone going to hurt her?”

“No. I’m afraid she might hurt herself.”