Fated Shot

Chapter 11

Mia

I wake up to an ‘I’m sorry’ text from Jack Brody.

I feel horrible. Somewhere between potential friend hang out and this is definitely a date I lost my mind. It was going so well. We were genuinely getting to know each other, but he looked so good and was so sweet, and I just couldn’t function once he kissed me. He smelled amazing and was so gentle. I needed more immediately, needed him more than I’ve ever needed anything else.

By the time we’d made it to the bed, everything came crashing down on me all at once. I’m not the fun one-night stand girl. I’m not a puck bunny. I can’t do casual hookups, and I’m not impulsive, wild, and free. My mind was racing, and I just couldn’t keep going.

Thoughts of the brunette from the restaurant keep creeping in. She’s the type of girl he could get in a heartbeat, and the intimidation poisoned my system. She was fawning over him all night. I’m sure she would have happily hooked up with him, but I just… couldn’t.

“Boring” is the word Seb used to describe our sex life. I can’t say I disagree; it was always pretty vanilla. I did want to explore more but never felt, I don’t know, the most adventurous with him.

I got bored, Mia.

What was I supposed to do ?

There was nothing exciting about us anymore.

The words every girl loves to hear from her cheating boyfriend while she’s sobbing in front of a naked woman on her side of the bed. It absolutely destroyed me for weeks. I moved out immediately and decided Toronto was my next move.

It took my world falling apart to realize it was never one I wanted to be a part of to begin with. I didn’t have anything separate from Seb. I moved into his apartment, we hung out with his friends, spent time doing the things he wanted to do. I didn’t realize he controlled everything in my life until I left. Not that betrayal is a good thing, but I’m grateful it happened. Hindsight is a godsend.

When I came home at the start of the summer, I wasn’t ready to share everything with my parents, so I went with the tried and true ‘ we needed space’ route. Thankfully, they haven’t bugged me to talk about it since.

It was only after two weeks of radio silence that the calls and texts started coming in. One apology after another, desperate attempts to get back together. I forgave him and said I could try a friendship with him in the future, but going behind my back and arranging this grand birthday gesture with my dad as if we were back together was messed up. Give an inch, and he’ll clearly take a mile. Now, unless I’m ready to unpack everything that happened between us to my parents, I have to see him next week at the game Doug Cameron so generously invited him to.

Even after a summer of healing, I just can’t shake the boring out of my head. Don’t get me wrong, I know it wasn’t my fault he decided to cheat, but on the off chance there’s even the tiniest bit of validity to that statement, I don’t want to make a fool out of myself. Especially not in front of someone who literally has women throwing themselves at him twenty-four-seven.

I went from being a sheltered wallflower in my first year of university to meeting and moving in with Seb. I didn’t have any time to explore, and I wanted to be a little carefree for once, chase the wild attraction I felt for the first time in a long time. I really thought I could do it too—one night, no strings attached, but this is what I get for trying.

There are more embarrassing things that can happen. Freaking out and sending a hot hockey player out of your apartment cannot be at the top of the list, right?

I shake off the thought. It’s for the best. I’m going to forget about my momentary lapse of judgment and flawed spontaneity. Hooking up with a guy who has a revolving door of girls available isn't going to help me work through my baggage. So, I’m going back to my weird limbo, and I’m freeing Jack Brody to go about his life. No harm, no foul.

Deciding to not reply to his text is my way of willing that whole night out of existence. The most mature way to handle the situation? Absolutely not, but self-preservation comes in many forms.

I get out of bed, get dressed, and start loading up my car. It takes me almost forty-five minutes and five trips to get all the boxes packed in. I really need to get a rolling cart or wagon if I’m going to keep this up for the rest of the year. At least this arm workout is a decent distraction.

And distraction is good. I feel a bit relieved when I check Waze and see that the trip to the nearest Canada Post drop-off will take longer due to heavy traffic. It’s something to look forward to, at least.

***

Jack

You fucking blew it .

It’s all I kept repeating to myself last night. The second I stepped out of her apartment and into the hallway, as I was struggling to adjust myself in the elevator, even as I wandered around the city aimlessly trying to clear my head. It was nearly midnight when I worked up the courage to send just one text, ‘I’m sorry.’

Sorry for letting this get so out of hand, sorry for kissing her, sorry for not being able to keep it in my fucking pants and scaring her off. After barely two hours of sleep, I’m jolted awake by a pounding on the door, followed by the click of the lock. Checking my phone, a flood of notifications pop up, but none from Mia. Settling into the disappointment, I read the notifs.

6:52 am Penn: U awake?

7:02 am Penn: Coffee & run?

7:11 am Penn: Hello

7:18 am Missed Call from Penn

7:19 am Missed Call from Penn

“brODY?” I hear the concerned voice call out, followed by frantic footsteps.

“Shoes off, Penn,” I shout down.

I hear a shuffle, followed by more quick steps, and suddenly, his face emerges up the stairs to the loft.

“Bro, I thought you died,” he says with a sigh of relief as he climbs into my bed to hug me.

“Penn, that key is for emergencies only. You can’t just barge in here anytime you feel like it,” I warn, moving out of his reach. I stand up, walk over to my dresser and throw a pair of sweatpants over my boxers.

“You weren’t answering! I thought it was an emergency!” He adds, “Sound always on, remember? ”

Oh, I remember. A rule that’s proven itself necessary on a multitude of occasions.

“I came in late, couldn’t sleep. I must have crashed around four and just slept through the alerts.”

“Why were you out so late?”

“Oh, uh, I wasn’t.”

He looks over at me with a puzzled expression. “You just said you were?”

Fuck, I’m too tired for this right now. “I was on a date, alright?”

A wide grin spreads across his face as he walks over, throwing one arm over my shoulder. “With your mystery girl?”

“What, no. Just—just some girl I met.”

“Atta boy!” he exclaims way too loudly. “Tell me everything.”

“Penn, I’m not discussing this with you right now. I need caffeine, let’s go,” I say as we stroll out of my apartment.

Somehow, I managed to keep him at bay for the rest of our morning. Thankfully, he’s easily distracted and already telling me about all his plans for our post-win celebration. He’s started taking after Theo Benson and is trying the visualization route. A bunch of BS if you ask me, but if it keeps him focused, who am I to deny him?

My phone pings, and a rush of relief crashes through me. Please let it be Mia . I sigh when I spot the name, Broosky. The actual Brooksy, Reid. Not to be confused with his pain in the ass little brother standing two feet away.

Reid: Heard you’re back on the market.

“You fucker!” I say, shoving Penn. He doubles over laughing, immediately understanding what’s just happened. This guy can’t keep a secret to save his life. He’s the biggest gossip I’ve ever met. If there’s one thing the Brooks brothers love to do, it’s try and meddle in my life. The moment we pull up to the crosswalk, I look around to see if there are any potential witnesses to the murder I’m seriously considering.

A battered blue Jeep is the only car stopped at the light, and before I can lunge at Penn, unmistakable eyes catch mine.

There’s a flutter in my chest as I lift my hand to wave before stopping myself. Penn, two strides ahead of me, thankfully doesn’t catch any of this. I pause for a moment midway into the street so that she sees me, and when she does, my mouth instinctively curls up.

She’s wearing a blue bandana, hair pooling behind her. I can already feel my heart beating faster, harder. I want to run over, stop the car, and apologize endlessly for being such a jackass, but the moment she notices me, her face ignites in a deeper red than I’ve ever seen, and she averts her gaze, no subtlety in the way she drops her head immediately.

It’s a punch to the gut, but I can take the hint. She doesn’t even want to see me, let alone talk to me. I did that—I messed everything up. It takes a second to sink in, and I frown, taking a deep breath before continuing across the street to catch up with Penn. As I walk, I pull out my phone and type out a response.

Me: Guess so.