Heartless Player by R.C. Stephens

Thirty-Three

Wolfe

“Wolfe, you with us?” Coach Ramirez asks as he points to the large screen where Harvard is playing against U Penn.

I clear my throat and refocus. “Yes, sir.”

“Can you tell me what I just said?” he asks, brow raised. It’s unlike Coach to call me out this way, but in all honesty, I’m not focused. He told me I’m good enough to draft, but if I don’t show my worth tonight it could all go downhill.

“Sorry, Coach,” I say. “Won’t happen again.”

Coach frowns and moves on to point out another play.

Shit!I need to focus, but how can I with the way Rebel looked at me this morning? Disappointment and I don’t know what—maybe disgust—were dripping from her gaze.

I give my head a shake. Don’t think of Rebel. Not with my future on the line. My own words don’t feel like good advice because Rebel changed my life and I can’t picture my life without her in it.

After the meeting ends, Coach Ramirez calls me over. “You okay, Wolfe?”

“No, but I’m going to be okay by tonight. I plan on giving this game my all,” I tell him.

“You can’t throw everything away for a girl. That show you made in the gym this morning is making me question whether your comeback should be tonight.”

“Sorry about this morning. That girl is important to me and hockey is important to me. I want to get the girl and seal the deal on entering the draft.”

“Well, if anyone can do it, you can, Wolfe.” Coach Ramirez reaches out and gives my shoulder a brief squeeze. I never had any real parental support growing up. The fact that Coach believes in me makes me feel choked up.

“That means a lot,” I say, and my throat bobs as I try to hide my emotion.

“I’m serious. You worry about the whole team, not just yourself. That’s what has won you the spot of captain. You keep the team in line. They look up to you.” Pride shines in his eyes.

“I don’t know about that,” I say.

“They do,” he says curtly. “Now, go take care of your business, because you need to bring your A game tonight.”

“Yes, sir,” I say and I turn and leave the media room.

Rebel

“That was fast,” Blossom says as she pours herself a cup of coffee. She’s already in uniform ready to leave for the diner.

“Tiffany came to apologize to me in this really lame way and then Wolfe got involved. He followed me into the locker room and told me he loves me and…” I burst into tears. Why does this have to hurt so much?

“He said he loves you?” Blossom asks and she walks over and embraces me in a hug. I nod. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

“No, he’s a liar. I can’t be with someone who lies.” My tears are soaking her uniform.

“What did he lie to you about, though?” she asks. “I get that his reasons for meeting you were a little messed-up, even though it’s nice that he cares for his sister that much. But I just don’t get what he lied about. You told me yourself that he only wanted to be friends. That he didn’t see you in that way. I don’t think that was a lie. He wanted to be friends with you, and as he got to know you, he realized how amazing you are.” She moves a piece of hair out of my eyes.

“So now you’re on his side,” I accuse and pull away, feeling like a tsunami has been building inside me all weekend. I walk over to the kettle and take a mug. I make myself a coffee.

“This isn’t about sides. You were friends first and fell in love. There weren’t any lies. Wolfe has been up front with you. He told you he didn’t do relationships…”

“No, he does lie. He lied about his last name and he lied about why he was interested in being my friend,” I shoot back.

“Can you really blame the guy for lying about his last name? His family seems like a train wreck. I would want to distance myself from them too.”

“And the fact that he didn’t tell me about his sister?” I ask. “I told him about Dad and the accident.”

“And it’s great you opened up, but not everyone can share their deepest, darkest secrets. Sometimes it’s hard. I don’t talk about Daddy or Mama ever. Not even to my best friends,” Blossom says.

“Holland knows it all,” I admit.

“I know,” Blossom says. “It’s amazing that you can open up and express your feelings, but not everyone can do that so easily. I read the articles about Wolfe’s family, Rebel. He’s been through a lot. They were in a car crash that put Wolfe’s sister in a wheelchair.”

“He blames himself for that accident. Said it was his fault that his sister was injured so badly,” I tell her. I try to lift the mug of coffee to drink, but my hands shake and it spills over the top and burns my hand. “Shit.”

“Rebel. Sweetheart.” Blossom takes my hand, guiding me to the kitchen sink where she turns the tap on with cold water.

“I’m not two.” I laugh through the tears.

“Those articles said that a drunk driver ran a stop sign and t-boned their car. I can’t imagine how Wolfe would be to blame,” Blossom says.

“I don’t know, but he said it was his fault and that he lives with guilt because of it.” I remember his words from the gym.

“I have to get to work,” Blossom says. “The guy is hurting and has been hurt, but it doesn’t make him bad. I watched how protective he was of you when Preston was out of hand.”

“I don’t need a bodyguard,” I snap.

“No,” she agrees. “But you can never have enough people in your life who care about you, and that boy cares. Maybe he doesn’t know how to show it. His family is dysfunctional. Reporters have had a hell of a field day reporting all kinds of drama about them. I don’t blame Wolfe for changing his name.” She looks at her watch. “I really gotta go. You going to be okay?” she asks, reaching for her jacket.

“Yeah, you be careful. The streets were pretty slippery,” I say, and she leaves.

I’m left by myself, my thoughts overwhelming the hell out of me. Blossom made some good points. It’s no secret that I love Wolfe. I just don’t know if we’re right for each other anymore. He was manwhore central. Even Friday night, he stood there and watched me dance with another guy. He made no move to show anyone at the party that we were together. Nothing. I head upstairs to take a quick shower. I have to get back to school. Taking off class this close to finals is risky.

After my shower, I blow out my hair and dress warm for the trek back to school, but as I’m leaving my front door, a fancy car pulls up in my driveway. I notice Cole in the driver’s seat right away.

I stop and wait to see what he wants. This day just keeps getting better and better.

Cole gets out of his car. “Hey, Rebel.”

“Hi,” I reply, but it makes me feel on edge that he’s here.

“I feel responsible for what happened. I was drunk and don’t even remember saying shit to Tiffany,” he says.

“It’s fine,” I tell him. “But I have to get to school.”

“I can give you a ride. I’m headed there now.”

“Thank you.” I follow him to his SUV.

Once in the car, an uncomfortable silence settles between us until Cole finally breaks it. “Wolfe is really into you. I’ve never seen him so torn up before.” I don’t have anything good to say so I remain quiet.

“It’s his big return to the ice tonight. He usually never has family there supporting him. I brought you a few tickets. If you can make it, I know it would mean a lot to him,” he says and passes me three tickets.

“If he wanted me there, then why isn’t he giving me these tickets?”

Cole rubs at the scruff on his chin. “Look, I don’t like talking because that clearly got me in trouble already, but Wolfe had a tough childhood. His parents weren’t around. He’s bad with emotions and shit,” he says. “But I’ve never seen him with a girl the way he was with you. He digs you.”

“I don’t know, Cole. I’m not cut out for lies and deception.”

“Wolfe is anything but a liar. In fact, chicks find his straightforward, no-sugarcoating way of life downright offensive. That’s why he has the reputation that he has. Because he’s never fallen for anyone before. He was totally spaced out this morning during our meeting with Coach, and Coach called him out. Wolfe has a lot riding on the game tonight,” Cole explains as we pull into the parking lot.

“He told me.” I remember how excited he was about getting back on the ice and the possibility of being drafted.

“See, Wolfe doesn’t share pieces of his life with chicks,” Cole says.

I leave the tickets on the dashboard.

“Take them, Rebel. At least consider coming,” he says.

I take them and tuck them into the front pocket of my backpack.

“Thanks for the ride,” I say and then I leave his car.