Delayed Penalty (Empire State Hockey #5)

Chapter 7 – Avery

Chapter Seven

Avery

He who must not be named

Hi. Look I know you’re pissed.

Can’t we just start over?

Nope.

Kelly

Wine and The Bachelor tonight?

Can’t. I’m going with Peter to dinner.

Kelly

Like a date?

It’s a work event, but I guess.

Kelly

Doesn’t count. He still sucks.

M aking it to the end of a school day in the month of May always feels like you deserve a prize… or a margarita, just for surviving. Even before we start discussing how it’s the end of the school year with the students, it’s like they can already sense it. With the weather warming up, the days aren’t as gloomy, and boy, these kiddos get restless.

Sometimes, they’re just excited about not having as much supervision at home during summer break because their parents work all the time, so they get to do pretty much whatever they want and play as much video games as they want. There are the families that take long vacations, so some kids are often excited about that.

On the flip side, we have kids who act out because they know with the school year ending, they won’t have the luxury of adult supervision, warm meals to eat, or a safe place to rest, and those cases are always heartbreaking.

All we can do is be a safe space for these kids and do our best to provide as much structure and security for them while they learn. It can be emotionally taxing, but I love the opportunity to help so many kids.

Today is definitely one of those days where it feels more exhausting than usual, but my prize tonight for making it through another day is going to a dinner with an open bar and I’m oddly excited. I told Peter I thought we should start doing more together, going out on a date every once in a while, and this work dinner just happened to be the first available time so I guess we can count it. At least, that’s what I was thinking when I got ready for the night, starting with my new black two-piece lingerie set that makes me feel like an absolute smoke show.

Especially the crotchless panties.

When I was out trying on lingerie, I sent a picture to Kelly, and even she agreed it was a must buy for me. Peter has always been a little weird about me wearing lingerie, saying he thinks it makes it seem like women are trying too hard. At least we’re trying, though.

After that, I spent enough time taking an everything shower, doing my hair and makeup just the way he likes, and even wearing the red dress he’s always loved me in. I feel… pretty, and for the first time in a while I’m actually excited for a night out with my fiancé.

Realizing I don’t have much time until he’ll be here to pick me up, I pour a glass of champagne and grab my phone to doom scroll until he gets here. Part of me wants to sneak into his office and grab some of his whiskey while I wait, but I know if he were to smell it on my breath it would ruin the night.

I’m not sure what it is about him seeing me drink whiskey that he hates so much, but whatever I guess.

Between the glass of champagne I definitely did not measure, just poured from the soul and the soul was thirsty, and the hole I found myself sucked into on social media, forty-five minutes have gone by, and Peter still isn’t home.

Weird. Maybe he got stuck in traffic.

Scrolling to his contact, I try calling him and get sent directly to voicemail. Weird.

Hey, I’m waiting at home.

You’re still coming to pick me up, right?

With that I go back to doom scrolling about the North Sea giving me a million more reasons to not trust the ocean.

Another hour later, and I’ve killed the bottle of wine and still have no response to my texts or calls.

Looks like I’m being stood up by my own fiancé.

After taking the dress off and throwing on a pair of sweats—leaving the lingerie on, of course—I head to his stupid office and fill a glass to the tippy-tippy top with something called Old Rip Van Winkle, and then head to the couch to watch trash TV and drink.

By the time Peter finally comes home, I’ve got a solid buzz going on and have watched a couple of episodes of Housewives , yet somehow I’m not the drunkest one. He comes bouncing in, door slamming behind him.

“Oh, fuck,” he grumbles as he runs into the kitchen island that’s always been in the same spot.

“Well, hello there,” I finally say from my spot on the couch.

He stands in the kitchen and looks over to me, but it’s like he’s barely even seeing me. “Hi.”

Is that all he’s going to say? Bail on me then show up plastered drunk. Fuck this. I’m so over this shit. I could’ve been out with Kelly tonight. Hell, I could’ve gone out with Harris, I mean he’s texted me how many times trying to get me to come hang out, but I won’t because I’m trying to be respectful to the fact that I have a fiancé.

But do I really have a fiancé, or do I have the title and a cage disguised by a shiny ring?

“You never came home and you couldn’t call me?” I start, doing my best to keep my voice level so he can’t say I’m yelling my favorite, being a ‘bitch’.

He shrugs, grabbing a water bottle and draining half of it before finally looking at me.

“Marie wanted to meet me there, so I figured I’d go with her instead. Besides, you’re not even dressed for a dinner.”

Is he actually telling me that he ditched me—and couldn’t even tell me—for another woman?

“I sat around waiting in my dress and heels until I realized you were bailing on me,” I growl, standing up from the couch and making my way to him in the kitchen.

“Maybe next time.”

The second I see him up close, I feel this sense of calm that I haven’t felt in years. I’m finally going to be free on this man.

All over his neck are hickies, big purple hickies he’s not even attempting to hide, with pink and red lipstick marks all over his crisp white shirt. I might’ve been able to handle him ditching me, but not for him to also cheat on me—with more than one woman, if the lipstick tells me anything.

Fucking prick.

“There’s not going to be a next time,” I say, my voice coming out shaky and I try to get up the courage to do this. “I don’t want to do this anymore, Peter.”

It takes a moment for my words to sink in, but the moment they do I can see the rage fill his eyes, his nostrils flaring as his anger comes front and center.

“You don’t exactly have a choice. I mean, unless you plan on looking for a new job next school year, but my parents were already saying everything good has been snatched up.”

I tell him I want to be done, and instead of telling me no and that he cares, that he wants to fight for us, or whatever bullshit they say in movies when they try to save their relationship, nope, he goes straight to blackmailing me with my job—the only thing I’ve worked for my entire life.

“What, are you going to convince your mom to fire me?”

“Yeah, it’ll be easy when I tell her I caught you cheating on me.”

“That’s really your argument when I tell you I’m done? The man standing here—covered in marks where women obviously sucked on his neck—is telling me he’s going to claim I cheated?”

“She’ll believe anything I tell her, she always has. Plus, she’s never quite been a fan of the fact that she gets to see me less since you’ve come around.”

“Well, good for her, she’s going to get a lot more time with you in the future.”

“Oh, lay off the drama, Avery, it’s not a good fucking look. I’m going to go have another drink in my office. Why don’t you go calm down and we’ll talk about this in the morning,” he says, the slur in his voice just pissing me off, yet knowing he’s going to his office to have more to drink means I’ll have plenty of time to get some stuff ready and get out. Just have to play nice for a little while longer.

“As you wish,” I say calmly, which apparently is his signal to walk away and shut his office door.

Thirty minutes later, I’ve thrown together two bags and slipped them out the front door by our elevator and changed into a cute pair of jeans and a crop top just long enough I can still wear my lingerie. Not that I have plans for anyone to see it tonight, but if I’m going to call off my engagement, I’m going to do it feeling hot.

Doing one quick walk through, I head back to our room, and pulling my engagement ring off I set it front and center on his dresser.

I’m done.

With everything I’m able to grab this time shoved into a backpack, I grab my purse and quietly shut the apartment door behind me making my way down to the parking garage where my old Honda sits next to Peter’s Corvette… and Porsche. I throw the two suitcases in the trunk to come back and get when I’ve sobered up, and take the rest with me and grab a cab.

“Where to?” the cab driver shouts.

Without a second thought, I say, “Hudson’s.”

The bar is exactly the same as it was when I was here with Kelly, only this time instead of a million hockey fans it’s more filled with baseball fans. Except, the table in the back corner has the man I’m looking for, surrounded by a couple of his buddies I remember from the first night.

I think one of the guys’ names is Miles, and the other two I think are Rex and Max sitting across the table from Harris. The second I see he’s here, I want to walk over to him, but I’m not sure why exactly. To drink? To hang out? To tell him I broke it off with Peter?

I have no idea, but the next thing I know is I’m walking past the girls standing there ogling them, directly to his table. I can’t think of a single thing to say other than “Still wanna play darts?”

Harris, who’s currently mid-conversation with Rex, stops at the sound of my voice, his eyes immediately snapping to me. I probably look like a wreck carrying my backpack and purse around, but the smile on his face makes me feel like a million bucks.

This is why I came here. Because even when my world is on fire, he makes me feel calm. Unless he’s the one holding the match.

“Sure, but did you take out an insurance policy this time?” he asks with a smirk before standing up. “Or are you just going to make me get into another bar fight?”

“A fucking bar fight?” the guy across from him asks, eyebrows raised in question.

“That’s what the mark was on your cheek. I didn’t believe that you kneed yourself in the chin doing a pull up,” Miles grumbles—at least, I’m pretty sure he’s Miles.

“Yeah.” Harris smirks and points at me. “This one hit a Bandits fan with a dart, and he got a bit mouthy. He didn’t exactly realize who we were and started shit talking hockey… and her, in general.”

“You two are trouble,” Rex says on a laugh.

“It’s just this one, she’s the troublemaker,” Harris says as he stands up and makes his way over to me. “So, what are you actually doing here, because I know damn well it’s not to play darts. Not that I mind or anything, you can use whatever excuse you want to see me. Or don’t use one, I don’t really care either way,” Harris says as he grabs my hand and walks me toward the back where the dart boards are. Grabbing the darts, he offers them to me first, but I just stand there.

“I’m not really sure why I’m here,” I tell him honestly, my eyes falling to my feet.

What am I doing here? I guess I just don’t want to be sad. And now that I just left Peter, I guess I just want someone to make me feel good. The one thing I remember clear as day about Harris is that he always made sure I felt good.

Looking up, I meet his eyes, immediately seeing the concern in them. I mean I’d be concerned too if my ex showed up at a bar and randomly asked to play darts and then proceeds to forget how to communicate like a civilized human being.

“I guess I’m just confused,” he says with a shrug. “It seems like since the last time I’ve seen you that you’ve wanted nothing to do with me. In fact, you’ve made it pretty clear. But you’re here right now, seemingly by yourself and you want to spend time with me? Why?”

“Harris, I… I don’t know how to answer your question because I don’t know myself,” I tell him then turn and face the board and raise my hand to make my first throw.

“Where’s your ring, Avery?” His voice growls as he steps closer to me, and I’m immediately wet from his gravely, possessive tone. Unable to move now that he’s so close, I freeze.

“I took it off,” I whisper.

“That doesn’t answer my question. Where. Is. Your. Ring?”

He’s even closer now, the warmth of his breath on my neck and my hands start shaking.

“I put it on his dresser when I left.”

“Left as in… you went out to get a drink and will be back home soon… or left as in you left him?”

“Option B.”

“Does that mean you’re…” he starts, his voice trailing off.

“Single? Yep. The asshole stood me up then came home drunk and covered in hickies and made me out to be the problem. He can kick rocks.”

“It’s about time. But I guess that still leaves me with my first question,” he whispers. “Why are you here, Avery?”

“I’m tired of being unhappy and for just one night… I want to forget.”

“So, you came here to forget… with me?”

“That’s what it’s looking like.”

“That’s not how this works, Avery, and you know it. If you want something from me… I need you to use your words,” Harris says, his voice almost trembling, his control on the verge of snapping.

Good. That’s the Harris I want tonight. Unhinged Harris who will fuck me and make me forget about Peter.

Taking a deep breath, I turn my body to face him. His eyes are dark with lust as he watches me, lips parted waiting on bated breath for my response.

Can I say it, though? After everything we’ve been through, am I really okay using my ex, who I thought was the love of my life, as a rebound to get over my ex?

Because let’s be real, that’s what this would be. We have no future… I mean, maybe as friends. But not together anymore. I could never trust him after the way he broke my heart. But I could definitely let him fuck me, hopefully well enough to forget that I need to talk to Kelly tomorrow about a place to live.

“I… I want you to touch me,” I say, his eyes widening like he didn’t actually think I’d say it. “In fact,” I say, taking a step closer until we’re practically touching. I gaze up, staring directly into his warm brown eyes. “I’d like you to do a lot more than just touch me.”

His eyes fall to my lips, but instead of kissing me, he just grabs my hand and starts pulling me toward the front of the bar..

“What are you doing?” I breathe out.

“Taking you home,” he growls as he nods toward the guys before we head out the door and behind the building to his parked car.

“What? Why are we leaving already?” I pout, almost wishing we had time to have another drink or two… give me a little more courage for tonight.

Turning me away from the car, he backs me up against the alley wall, his eyes dark as he pins me between his hands. “The first time I get to touch you in six years is not going to be in a bar with a goddamn audience and I sure as fuck am not rushing myself.”

Opening the door, he gestures for me to get in.

“Now get in the fucking car so I can take you home.”