Wasted Time (The Steel City #1)

22. Penny

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

penny

I wake up to movement downstairs in the kitchen, but the sun is still only rising.

Seth must be getting his day started.

Wiping the sleep from my eyes, I do what I always do as soon as I wake: roll over and check my phone.

A message from my sister with a picture of my niece greets me. I smile, my damaged heart healing a bit at the sight of her. Ellie is flashing a big, toothy grin with food smeared all over her chubby, pinchable cheeks. There’s a sweet message underneath it, but I can’t read it right now. I don’t want to see Aura’s loving words; I just want to see Ellie.

I send a couple of hearts and check in. I need to take a trip to see them again soon. Newfoundland is far enough away where it would feel like I’m in another country. Maybe that’s what I need.

Tiffany asked if anyone wants to go to brunch in our girls group chat. At three in the morning. I send a laughing emoji in response. Brunch is definitely not happening because Tiff will not be awake and functional until four in the afternoon .

One text from Wyatt.

A trickle of anxiety builds at the base of my spine.

Wyatt

Is there something you’ve got to tell me? Call me when you wake up.

My heart sinks. There could be a couple of things that he might be referring to at this point, and it’s terrifying not knowing which one he’s talking about.

Still no messages from Gavin. No calls.

I sigh, stretching out my limbs.

I need to stop waiting for them to come. For him to show up. They aren’t coming. He does not care. He never showed up while we were together, why would he start now?

It’s okay that he doesn’t care about me or about how I am. I have a village of people who do. I am loved, even if he isn’t one of the people who love me.

In my hoodie and Bowser sleep pants, I drag myself out of bed and down to the kitchen to see one of those people.

Declan’s on the TV again, zipping past the screen. The video cuts to somebody in a studio on YouTube breaking down his plays frame-by-frame. Seth is so focused on the image across the room that he barely notices me enter the kitchen as he closes the oven door.

Seth’s gaze snaps to me as I round the island.

“Good morning.” I smile, resting my hip against the counter.

“Morning. I forgot how much of an early bird you are. I’m used to living with the girl who could sleep through a natural disaster.”

I snort.

It’s true. A sleeping Avery is pretty much like being near the dead. She sleeps like a teenager, exhausted from a growth spurt and five mood swings, even though she stopped growing when she was, like, eight.

My eyes flicker to the stove. “Do you make breakfast like this every morning?”

Seth nods, opening the fridge and pulling out eggs and English muffins. “You know how excited she gets about breakfast.”

It ‘sets the tone for her day’, she says.

“Every single day?” I ask.

He places the items on the counter and looks at me. “I’d do it twice a day if it meant I get to see her smile at me the way she does when she rounds that corner in the morning.”

My smile falters. Something in my chest cracks and tears, and the immediate flinch of pain is terrifying. I force the emotion to simmer, even though it’s tough. There is no way I’m going to cry in Seth and Avery’s kitchen because I love the way they love each other.

I wonder what I did wrong in my life to deserve the kind of love I got.

Seth catches my eye again. He smiles gently as if he knows exactly what is going through my head.

He reaches for the coffee pot without making a single comment about it.

“Coffee?”

I clear my throat. “Dumb question.”

He huffs a laugh and takes the big, blue mug from the cupboard.

I open the fridge and grab my creamer of choice. Seth hands me my full mug of happy juice without another word.

“Thanks. Do you need any help?’

He shakes his head, reaching for a mug for himself.

“The bacon has to cook. I was just about to plant my ass on the couch and listen to people criticize Dec’s game last night. Care to join?”

My lip twitches upward. “Does he know you do that?”

Seth grins, shrugging a shoulder. “No. These people make some good comments. Sometimes, I text him what they say and pretend it was my original thought—just to piss him off.”

“You are evil.” I laugh, taking a sip of my coffee.

“Hey, we’ve got to keep the big guy humble.”

He gestures toward their big, gray sectional. I can say with utter confidence that Avery and Seth own the comfiest couch in the world. I would willingly sleep down here if Avery wasn’t so insistent on me taking the guest room every time I came over. It’s the kind of couch you sink into, and it hugs you back.

I take a seat on the chaise, stretching out my legs and letting the coffee warm my palms. Seth drops somewhere in the center of the couch and turns up the volume, snatching his dark rimmed glasses off the coffee table and sliding them on his nose.

We sit in a comfortable silence. We laugh at the commentators at some points, like when they said Declan needs to start focusing on his feet instead of burying himself in multiple women, or when he made a bad pass, and they called him ‘ Declan Blowes ’.

I get why Seth watches these on top of the professional reporters. They’re comical and personable, adding something a bit different to the typical media coverage. It’s alarmingly clear what type of lines he uses on Dec. I don’t miss how he reaches for his phone and starts texting the second that he’s done laughing.

The Declan Blowes comment was definitely delivered straight to Dec’s phone less than five minutes ago.

We both glower and scoff when the commentators criticize him too much. Some people hate Declan just because he’s good. That’s all there is to it. If he’s not on your team, he’s the enemy.

We’re biased, but they’re full of it half of the time. I swear.

If it’s a fair point, then fine. But when you start saying that he’s not as talented as the league makes him out to be, that’s utter bullshit. Declan is unstoppable . There’s a reason he was so sought after, and why his name gets mentioned alongside a lot of very important players.

He’s become a legend in his own right. But, since he has yet to win a cup, people typically use that fact to support their points, even if they don’t make any sense.

About halfway through my coffee, I re-open my texts with Wyatt. I can’t ignore him forever. He’s close enough to just stop by if he thinks it’s important, and this is something he’d consider exceptionally important.

Me

That depends. What are you talking about?

I shoot off the text and focus on the TV again. Each time they show a close-up shot of Dec, especially when he’s sitting on the bench and mouthing off with that ridiculous smirk, his mouthguard hanging out of his mouth and his dimples clear as day, my stomach plummets.

I can’t pinpoint this feeling. Is it sadness? Is it lust? Is it regret for doing what I did, after what we both did to each other?

My phone buzzes.

Wyatt

I think we should talk in person. I heard you’re in town.

My stomach drops even further. There is no way Declan told Wyatt.

He wouldn’t, would he?

Unless he was so mad that he needed to vent, and he chose Wyatt as his outlet. That’s typically Seth’s job. Maybe he told them both. Would he do that to me?

I mean, he did throw my fear of being alone at twenty-nine in my face. It isn’t ridiculous to think that he talked to his friends about it. It just happens that his friends are also my friends. The world is sick in that way.

I stare at the text for a minute. I’m only broken from my trance when Seth hops over the couch to check on the bacon.

Me

I’m at Avery’s.

A few seconds go by, but he answers quicker than it takes for my phone to dim.

Wyatt

Tell Seth I’ll be over in ten for breakfast and coffee. We’ll talk then.

I stare at the screen, trying to ignore the dread in my gut.

I glance at Seth as he sits down again. “Wyatt’s on his way over.”

He barely reacts. He just nods as if this is a regular occurrence. It probably is. Hell, it used to be, but so much time has passed that I figured those habits from our younger years had dwindled.

We’re watching another video from a significantly less funny commentator, when the front door opens and closes softly. There’s a bit of shuffling and the sound of scuffed footsteps heading our way, but I don’t turn around.

I keep my eyes on the screen, even as Seth glances behind us, reaching out his hand. Wyatt smacks his palm in his, and then seconds later, two big hands are planted on my shoulders. He squeezes gently, a gesture so comforting that it makes me want to cry.

I crane my neck to peer up at him, still cradling my mug.

Those chocolate brown eyes are soft, black ball cap pulled low. He squeezes again, the sad look on his face saying so much more than he ever does.

“Need a refill?”

“Please,” I say quietly, handing him my mug.

Wyatt returns with a fresh coffee for me. He plops himself down on the couch between Seth and I, his focus averting to the commentator that is slowing down Declan’s play.

What the commentator is saying goes above my head, but both Seth and Wyatt’s brows are furrowing as the man continues to talk and red circles pop up around the screen.

Wyatt tosses up a hand. “Bullshit.”

“He does not favour the left side,” Seth grumbles, shaking his head. “Never has.”

“If anything, he characteristically shoots right.”

“If they said he’s a fucking puck hog, they would have had a point.”

“Probably never put on a pair of skates in his fucking life,” Wyatt scoffs, shaking his head. He falls back against the couch, taking a sip of his black coffee, and tosses his legs up on the table.

“Good morning!”

I glance over my shoulder just as Avery bounces into the kitchen. Her dark hair is pulled back in a claw clip, oversized blue sweater covering her sleep shorts. Her eyes dart to Wyatt, who nods in greeting.

“Hi, Wy. I smell bacon.”

Seth turns to her as she hops toward him, leaning down to snake her arms around his neck from behind. He reaches up to touch her wrist and they take a second to just look at each other like they hadn’t just slept beside each other for hours last night and every day before then.

I watch when I know I shouldn’t. My heart can’t handle this right now. The perfect image of what I should have wanted was in my face the whole time that I was settling.

“Hi, babe,” Avery whispers, dipping her head.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” he mutters, kissing her softly on the mouth before she’s off and bounding into the kitchen to get herself a coffee.

There’s a soft pat on my thigh. My eyes snap to Wyatt, who lets his touch linger for a moment before he pulls his hand away. It’s right then that I know he knows. I’m still not sure about Declan, but he knows about Gavin.

“When?” he asks.

“A few days ago.”

“Is your stuff out of the house?” is his immediate response.

I don’t know why everyone’s first question is how the hell I’m getting out of there or what we’re doing with the material things, but I’m starting to wonder why that’s the first thing people seem to ask in these situations.

“Not yet.”

“ We’re going to help her get it out,” Avery calls out from the kitchen.

“Of course we are,” Wyatt responds, but he’s talking to me and only me.

“It’s a long trip,” I remind them. “It’s eight hours just to help me clean out a house. It will be uncomfortable, and I can’t be positive he’ll leave to let us handle it on our own. If he doesn’t, who knows what mood he’ll be in. It’s my mess.”

“Um,” Avery says, leaning against the island, coffee in her palms. “I signed up to deal with every single mess you ever have. It’s what we took on for each other when we declared ourselves best friends by doing that blood oath thing. ”

Wyatt’s head whips toward her, horror written all over his face.

I smirk, rolling my eyes. There was no blood oath.

“I know, but this is different.”

“It’s not,” Wyatt says, slowly turning back to me. “I’ll help. I just need a day or two heads up. We’ve got to get you out of there sooner rather than later. I don’t want Gavin getting up to anything before you have a chance to leave peacefully.”

“Like what?” I frown.

He wouldn’t do anything crazy. He can be an asshole, yes, but he’s not off his rocker.

“Taking mommy and daddy’s money and hiring a lawyer too expensive for even his wallet and fucking you over. Trying to convince you that he deserves more than his fair share. Regretting his decision and manipulating you to stay. The list goes on and on.”

I stare at Wyatt. Why does everyone think that Gavin’s some big, bad villain and that I’m a helpless little girl?

I love them, but it feels like everyone wants me to act a certain way here and do specific things that I’m not even sure I want to do.

“We know you can handle yourself,” Avery says quickly when I hesitate to respond. “You just shouldn’t have to. If he wants to do this alone, that’s his prerogative, but we’re here for you.”

“I think Wyatt is just worried that the longer time passes, the more things Gavin can think up that he believes he’s owed. It shouldn’t be like that. It should be a clean divide,” Seth says.

Wyatt clicks his fingers. “That’s exactly what I meant.”

“And he did this firsthand with Lily.”

Wyatt’s eyes darken, but he nods in agreement. Wyatt’s older sister, who still lives in his hometown across the country, went through something much worse than this.

She married young and got a divorce four years later. Her husband was nice until he wasn’t. When he got that phone call, Wyatt would have run to his sister on foot if it were possible. He booked a flight the second he found out that Devin wouldn’t let Lily leave their house.

EJ and Declan went with him that day. They boarded a plane, Declan from Ottawa, and showed up in Vancouver to ensure they could move Lily out safely and convince her to get a restraining order. When they got there, the cops had already come and gone, but at that point, Lily had spent days being held hostage in her own home.

Wyatt stayed until everything was signed and official and he kind of changed after that. He hardened a bit.

“It’s just the best thing to do,” he says quietly, a million memories flashing through his eyes. “For everyone.”

“So, who told you?” I asked, lifting my mug to my lips.

Wyatt goes stiff, and Seth immediately looks away. I look at the one and only person who cannot lie to me if her life depended on it.

Avery is still leaning against the counter, looking horribly guilty.

“Ave.”

“I wanted to give them some warning in case we needed their help.”

“ Them? ” I ask.

“EJ,” Seth says.

I groan and rest my head against the couch cushion. I guess this is better than having to announce to everyone individually that I have been dumped. I’m not surprised that only Wyatt reached out to talk about this. EJ would never bring this up unless I told him directly. He probably told Wyatt to feel it out and let him know what he has to do.

A large hand rounds my head, petting me like a damn dog.

“It’s only because we love you.”

“I love you guys, too,” I murmur into the cushion.

“Do you want to go sometime this week?” Wyatt asks, his thumb brushing against the back of my head. The gesture makes me want to cry.

This morning, I convinced myself that I need to do this soon. Wyatt just further enforced that doing it that way is the best idea. While I wouldn’t consider Gavin to be like Lily’s husband, I can see how more issues might arise the longer I wait to handle this.

Why does this still feel like it’s going too fast? Like I have to make decisions that I’m not ready to make?

“I think I need to talk to him first.”

“We can stay at a hotel for a night. You can do what you have to do and let us know when you need us,” Avery suggests.

“I need to figure out if I need a U-haul or just a couple of trucks.”

Which Seth, Wyatt, and EJ all have.

“You’re going to take some of the stuff in that house. It’s yours, too,” Avery says sternly.

“I just don’t care enough,” I admit, peeling my face from the couch to look at her.

He can keep the appliances, the TVs, and the bed we’ve slept in. I can’t find the will to want any of that stuff, especially since I’m going to relocate one way or another. I can always buy new stuff. I’d rather not rip each other to shreds over a piece of furniture.

“You don’t care now , but you might later. Protect your future self,” Wyatt says, hand falling to my shoulder.

That familiar whoosh goes through my stomach again. My future self is alone. She doesn’t have a home or a relationship. She’s building from the ground up again. She’s scared. More scared than I am now, stuck in the in-between.

I do want to protect her. With all of my might.

“You don’t have to make the call now,” he adds gently. “Just let me know where and when, P. I’ll be there.”

I meet his eyes. All I see is warmth, love, and pain. For me. He would be there whenever I needed him to, no matter the circumstances. I know that. I trust that. He’s one of my favourite people on the planet for a reason. Our crew is as close to family as you can get without sharing blood, probably even closer in some instances.

Might be all the blood oaths, though.

I reach up to the hand on my shoulder and wrap my fingers around it. I squeeze. Three times. On the third, he holds on for dear life, and he leans in close enough so that only him and I can hear the next words he says.

“I got you for life. You know that, right?”

I curl inwardly, unable to help the way that comment hurts in the best way. Still holding my coffee, I let myself fall into him, winding an arm around his broad shoulders.

He hugs me back. It’s so gentle, but sturdy at the same time.

“Yeah. We both got that life sentence, buddy. But it’s a good one.”

“No parole,” he grumbles, kissing my hair.

“No parole.” I laugh.