Delayed Penalty (Empire State Hockey #5)

Chapter 2 – Avery

Chapter Two

Avery

W hen I told Kelly I’d come out tonight, I knew it was going to be a terrible idea, but I said fuck it. I knew I’d be pissing Peter off because I wouldn’t be sitting at home when he got back for him to ignore me, like the little obedient fiancée he expects me to be. My sister has been asking me to go out with her for drinks for longer than I care to admit, so I put on a little dress and some makeup, left a note for Peter, and went to meet her at Hudson’s.

The nice thing about the bar she chose is that it’s just a couple blocks from my apartment so I’m able to walk and not have to take a cab.

At least this way, I’m not wasting time and stress on trying to do it in the first place. I’m thankful that, even though it’s only March, it’s at least on the warmer side or I’d be freezing my tits off in this outfit. But when Kelly says to dress hot , I’ve learned it’s easier to try my best than to let her do it for me. If she had her way, I’d be wearing a see-through dress to try to attract “real men”.

Add in the fact that Hudson’s is a bar I’ve been avoiding for years, and tonight is basically a recipe for disaster.

It’s not that there’s anything wrong with the bar—hell, I’m sure it’s great—it’s just well-known that this is where the Cyclone’s hockey players meet up for drinks after their games, and with the players comes their fans… both men and women. I’ve never witnessed it in person, thank God, since I’ve done a damn good job of avoiding that man for the last six years, only running into him one other time.

Until now .

Harris Danielson.

A famous NHL player. A six-foot-two hottie with honey brown eyes and a smile that’ll make your panties wet.

Oh, and my college boyfriend, the love of my life who broke my heart leaving me questioning if those two years ever meant anything or if it was all just one big lie.

Hiding in the bathroom for way longer than necessary, I can’t bring myself to open the door. I have this fear of having to talk to him, of opening this door and having to come face to face with him for the first time in almost six years. I’ve spent those years hating him… in my mind, I go back to when everything changed and play it over and over, hoping to find something to explain why everything happened the way it did. But nothing makes sense, and at this point it just makes me angry.

Angry at the situation, angry at myself for falling in love with the athlete I knew I shouldn’t, and angry at him for breaking my heart without even a second thought. Even angrier that I don’t know why, when just before he broke my heart, we were talking about spending our lives together.

I constantly wonder if he’s ever thought of me or if he’s missed me. But I realize it’s impossible because that would imply I ever meant anything to him.

I need to open the door, and I already know he’s going to be standing on the other side, but fuck, I’m at the point where I can’t hide any longer or my sister is bound to come look for me and that’s just a situation we should avoid.

Just what I need is her to recognize Harris from one of the pictures I used to have in my room, then all the million questions come. With Kelly being older, she was already married and had moved away when I was dating Harris. We broke up before she ever got to meet him.

She knows almost everything about me, but the details of what happened between Harris and I when we broke up is not one of them. It was too intimate, too heartbreaking.

The fact that the second I heard his voice, I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand tall, my skin breaking out in goosebumps as his words caressed my skin, I know I’m still in the same damn place.

I’ve felt butterflies before, this is different. It’s like there’s a kaleidoscope of butterflies fluttering around and I’ve never been so nervous or excited before in my life—only dampened down by the fact that I’m still trying to remind myself that I hate him… at least, I feel like I’m supposed to hate him.

But you never could. They could never make you hate him. My family and Peter’s have sure tried.

With a deep breath, I roll my shoulders back and push through the door, coming face to face with him just as I expected, but instead of his usual cocky smile—that is so handsome I could die, his whole face lighting up—he looks sad. Almost… worried.

“Ave?” he says quietly.

Hearing his use of my nickname hurts, all the memories of better days coming back in short bursts, like seeing him was the key that opened Pandora’s box. And regardless of how much effort I’m putting into keeping them locked down, they’re going to make their way back up to the surface.

I just know that with everything happening now with Peter, I don’t need another shit storm in my life.

“Hi, Harris, long time no see,” I say, a feeble attempt to seem cold or aloof, but it does nothing to calm the worry in his eyes. The brown in his eyes that’s usually vibrant, filled with joy; it’s murky, muted, faded out by the story of unease raging through him right now.

He stands and stares at me for a moment, almost like he’s assessing me, but not in a sexual way. I think I’d be more comfortable if he were checking me out, at least then I’d understand. Harris and I were very sexual when we were together, it didn’t matter if we were fighting or disagreeing on something in part of our relationship, our sex life was always easy, and damn, was it hot.

“Whatcha thinking about, Ave? The way you’re biting that lip of yours and those pretty pink cheeks has me questioning just what memory seeing me tonight is striking up for you,” Harris says, his lips tilting up in a little grin—not his megawatt smile, but it’s at least progress.

Why do I care if he’s happy? He definitely didn’t care if I was happy when he left me.

Dammit. I’m not supposed to let him get me all hot and bothered. I’m supposed to be dismissive, like I forgot the man even existed. But at the same time, it’s so hard for me to be in the presence of him and not just melt at his feet like I always have.

Not this time, though.

“I’m not sure what you mean, I’m not thinking about anything except the fact that I need to get back to the table and my drink and away from this blast from the past that I could have gone the rest of my life without experiencing again,” I say, my cheeks reddening at the innuendo in his words, but I refuse to let him see that he’s having this effect on me right now.

“Is that so, Ave?”

“Yes. I have a drink waiting for me along with someone I actually want to be around.”

His eyes flare with a look that almost resembles jealousy… or anger, but I can’t figure out why. Why does he care what I’m doing? Why does he care who I’m here with?

“Oh, there you are, Avery,” Kelly says from behind me, but I’m caught up in a staring competition with Harris—and I don’t know why, but I feel as though if I look away first, he’ll win.

What he wins, I’m not quite sure yet, but I’m terrified to find out. I’ve never been good at telling this man no.

But Kelly is oblivious to all of this as she finally notices Harris standing there next to me, his eyes still on me, watching with a look that is almost unsettling because I can’t understand it. A man who doesn’t care about a woman—hell, I’m not sure he’s even capable of caring about someone other than himself—isn’t able to feel jealousy or pain at the thought of me being out with someone else… even a man.

But Kelly doesn’t notice any of this. Or if she does, she completely ignores it and steps closer toward him.

“Oh, hello there. I’m Kelly, Avery’s sister,” she says with a sweet smile accompanied by what I joke is her customer service voice, and I know there’s no way Harris will be able to ignore her.

I see the moment Harris has to battle himself because he was raised by a good mama who taught him manners, so I know damn well it’s killing him to not immediately greet my sister, but he fights it for a second before shaking his head and turning to my sister and introducing himself.

“Hi, Kelly, I’m Harris. I’ve heard a lot about you,” he says, reaching out and shaking her hand with a smile that would make any woman drop to her knees, and I want to stab my own sister in the eyes for being on the receiving end of that smile.

I wouldn’t stab her. Not, like, actually. It’s just an inside thought that just so happens to occur whenever anyone with a vagina is getting his attention.

Not that I’m jealous or anything, it’s not like there’s anything here for me to be jealous about… it’s more that I hate having to watch someone on the receiving end of that panty dropping smirk.

“Is that so?” Kelly asks with a smirk as she looks back at me, and I want to die, especially because Harris is eating this up. Fuck, I need to end this before it gets bad.

“I was actually just on my way back to you when I ran into Harris. It was really nice talking to you, but I’m going to head back to my table,” I say, grabbing Kelly’s hand and trying to walk away, but Harris speaks before I can.

“Why don’t you two come join our table? It’s just me and a group of my friends, but we have more alcohol than we should at our table,” Harris says, and unfortunately for me, free alcohol and a table of men are my sister’s kryptonite.

“I don’t?—”

“Lead the way, Harris. You’re speaking my language now,” Kelly says, looping her arm in mine and pulling me along, her face bright with the excitement of a single mom out on the town, and dammit, it’s annoying.

She’s blissfully unaware of the fact that I’ve just taken her off my Christmas list.

“What are you doing?” I grumble under my breath, my fingers gripping into her forearm as I struggle with wanting to be polite, yet get as far away from Harris and his friends as possible.

“What?” she asks, sounding shocked, her voice loud enough that Harris turns back, but I just smile and wave, doing my best to distract him enough that he continues to lead us toward the back where a group of guys have taken over a couple of different tables, random pitchers of beer and shots are spread out and it looks like they have been having a good time.

“I thought we were supposed to be having a girls’ night tonight,” I say, rolling my eyes at the excitement I see in her face, knowing I have a hard time letting her down. I’m going to end up sitting next to Harris thinking about all of the ways he hurt me when he broke my heart.

Oh, and try to not think about it the fact that I can still remember the way his lips felt against mine, against my skin, or against my pussy. His fingers, his tongue, his cock, they are all things I think about when it comes to this man, and the millions of orgasms he gave me in the time we spent together. It makes me want to run home and grab my battery-operated device.

But I shouldn’t even be thinking like this because I have a man at home. Not only just a man, but he’s an actual real-life fiancé I should be happy going home to and all I can think about is I wish I didn’t have to.

Fuck.

“We’re still having a girls’ night. But why not let these nice guys buy us a couple of drinks, especially when they’re friends of yours… he is a friend of yours, right?”

“I mean… kind of… but it’s a little more complicated than that. At one point, we were more than friends… hell, at one point I thought I found the man who I was going to spend the rest of my life with. But you can see how well that worked out,” I say, as we finally walk up to the table.

“Oh, fuck,” Kelly whispers as Harris turns to introduce us to the table.

“I just ran into these ladies over by the bathroom and invited them to come join us for a couple of drinks,” Harris says with a smile before turning and introducing us. “This is Avery, she’s an old friend of mine, and this is her sister Kelly.”

“Hi,” Kelly says with a smile, and I just wave, taking my seat next to my sister while Harris comes to sit next to me, proving that even when I try to avoid him, he doesn’t let me.

I hear a bunch of different names spouted off—Miles, Rex, Max, and another one that I don’t remember, but I find myself still staring at Harris as he passes us shots and beers.

“I know it’s tequila, but at least it’s not Fireball,” Harris says as he hands me mine, and I see the moment his eyes fall to the ring on my finger. I want to hide it, move my hand, hell, take the damn thing off, but I just freeze.

“I’ll manage,” I choke out as I look around at the table and notice some of the guys still watching us, but I turn to Kelly who starts talking a mile a minute getting to know everyone. I’m listening to one of the guys talk about his daughter, telling a story that has them all laughing. It’s sweet watching these big buff men go all swoony about a sweet little girl.

I can still feel Harris’s eyes on me as I try to stay engaged in the conversations around me, but I can’t. But I’m not going to let this ruin my night. I can make the decision to not let him affect me, or at least not let him realize he is. I can be friendly, casual, have a basic conversation without needing to know why he hurt me.

It’ll be easy… right?

“So, how’ve you been?” he asks, his voice low, barely audible over the base of some Kesha song playing, but still just as sweet to my ears.

“Just living the dream.” I shrug. “Finally finished school and started teaching this year, got on with Dempsey Academy and almost done with my first year of probation.”

He smiles proudly, knowing I’ve always dreamed of working at the school I went to when I was younger. It helps that Peter’s parents own the school, plus his mom is Head of School so it’s just always where I figured I would end up. I keep waiting for it to actually feel like home, though.

By the time I make it home from the bar, I’m starving. We skipped dinner because we were hoping to have alcohol and happy hour snacks for our dinner but instead we just ended up drinking the night away with Harris and his friends. It was a really fun night, regardless of the fact that I spent the entire night thinking about my memories with him and how badly I didn’t want to come home to Peter… but regardless, here I am.

Peter is in his office—obviously drunk—which is actually kind of a surprise since he told me he had a business meeting after work and he usually tries to keep himself somewhat sober at those, so he doesn’t make a fool of himself.

The only thing Peter cares about more than his job is his reputation and he wouldn’t do a damn thing in the world that would impact or tarnish his reputation.

“Hi,” I say with a smile as I set my keys and purse down on the table outside of his office. “How was your night?”

Peter doesn’t even look up, just looks down at his computer and keeps typing.

“It was fine,” he growls.

“Did you find out if you were able to get reservations for my birthday dinner?”

He continues typing, and I feel like I’ve already lost the two seconds of his attention that I’m usually allotted in the evening. It pisses me off because the only thing I like to do is something fun on my birthday, and I thought maybe my fiancé would actually want to enjoy the day with me.

You know better than that, though. This man has never cared, why would he start now.

Hell, I doubt he even knows what date my birthday is on.

“Peter?”

“Jesus, Avery, what the fuck do you want from me?” he shouts, standing up from his desk, his chair sliding back, catching on the side of the desk and it tips over sending a pile of his papers flying around the room.

I feel like I’m watching a cartoon with the steam coming out of his ears. Standing there, his hateful glare directed at me, he raises his hand, fingers shaking, and I immediately can tell that he’s blaming me for this entire clusterfuck of a reaction that is all his own.

But I know better than to argue with him. His anger is not something I’ve ever wanted to experience—the few times I have are easily enough for me to survive the rest of my life without ever seeing it again.

But I also hate rolling over and letting Peter get his way, especially because I know it’s fucking wrong. I’m stronger than this. Unfortunately, Peter’s parents are in a position of power at my dream job, and I hate the idea of pissing them off and then having them use it to force me to stay with him or risk my job.

I don’t know, I feel like that’s the sort of petty bullshit his family would do—he’s even hinted at it quite a few times.

“All I was doing was asking if you were able to make a reservation for my birthday, one that you told me you wanted to schedule after I told you all I wanted to do was to go out for drinks and play pool,” I say, my hip popped out, hands resting on my waist as I glare at him, doing my best to not piss him off but hoping to stand my ground a bit.

With his hand still raised, his finger still shaking, I can tell he’s pissed.

“Are you really interrupting me while I’m working to talk to me about a silly little birthday party? Reservations for dinner should not be more important than my job. If it’s so important to you, why don’t you just plan the whole fucking thing by yourself.”

“You know what? Maybe I will,” I say, turning and walking out, leaving him jaw-dropped in his office, waiting for me to stay there and let him bully me.

Unfortunately for him, I’ve spent the evening with a group of men who actually took the time to talk to me and care about my responses, so wasting my time on a man who only cares about the sound of his own voice isn’t high up on my priorities list tonight.

Maybe it shouldn’t be… ever.