Wasted Time (The Steel City #1)

30. Penny

CHAPTER THIRTY

penny

I hug the pillow tighter to my chest, watching the team skate back onto the ice. It was a tense first period, but Pittsburgh has taken the lead. Declan isn’t having the best game of his life, but he hasn’t had a repeat performance of the other night, either.

With one look at him, I can tell that he’s on edge. He’s chewing on his mouthguard as it hangs half-way out of his mouth, biting the inside of his cheek again. Not the best of signs.

I search the thousands of faces in the crowd for Seth and Avery. Knowing Dec, he would have put them right behind the bench if he were able to. That’s Avery’s favourite seat at any game. Declan used to buy those tickets off scalpers for us in Ottawa, just so we could sit there. Even in college, we sat behind the bench as many times as we possibly could.

I shoot a quick text to Ave to ask where she’s sitting, my chest aching a bit as it sends.

I don’t feel well.

I’m not sick, I just have to deal with the bed that I made for myself. Unfortunately, it’s now time to lay in it. One thing you should know about self-sabotage, which nobody talks about enough, is that it really, really hurts to make peace with your own mess. I know I’ve been difficult, and I know I don’t always do the right thing, but I was hoping for a chance to start mending the fences I’ve broken in the wake of my pain.

The conversation with Seth confirmed all my sneaking suspicions. I should have done better, tried harder. I know that. I knew it when I was ignoring Declan. It wasn’t lost on me that I was punishing him because I wasn’t ready to face it all. I took the easier way out to keep my head above water. I keep making the wrong decisions and I can’t stop myself.

I don’t know why I’m doing it. I can’t figure it out. Even when I know I’m doing the exact opposite of what I should be, I do it anyway. What is wrong with me? What has been broken so severely inside of me to turn me into this kind of person?

I don’t like the woman I’m becoming.

Seth said Declan ‘adamantly insisted that I stay home’. I assume he was much less kind than that, because those words didn’t sound half as harsh as Declan’s usually do.

I figured as much, anyway. I knew going to Pittsburgh was a risky idea, but I truly didn’t think I’d have to see him all that much. Plus, if I’m being honest, I was hoping to test the waters and see if this thing between us stood a chance at healing.

It doesn’t.

How does one come back from sleeping with their friend and then treating them like garbage? Isn’t this in the male handbook? I am not used to being in this position, and while I can recognize my wrongs, I have no inclination on how to fix them. Everything I do seems to make it worse.

I fucked with his game. That’s like the one thing Declan will never tolerate.

I fucked with a lot of things, really .

My eyes burn. I shift my position on the couch, pulling the blanket up higher on my body.

Seth felt the severity of this fight after he explained the phone call to me. I wasn’t remotely surprised. I deflated, shame prickling my skin, and simply nodded, keeping my eyes locked on my hands instead of him.

What else could I do?

But Seth expected a fight from me.

He reached for my shoulder at some point, squeezing. He looked me dead in the eye, in that dim light of the kitchen, and said in a tone so quiet that it made my heart ache: “What happened between you and Dec?”

The question knocked the wind out of me. I stared at him, unblinking. What hasn’t happened between us at this point? So much has changed in such little time. Seth could sense all the lies that Declan and I have been spewing to him. This is about more than either of us are willing to admit and he is slowly catching on.

I just shook my head as he squeezed my shoulder again, tears burning in my eyes.

His face fell the second the first tear did.

I shook my head again and again until my shoulders trembled, and I buried my face in my hands, and I cried .

I don’t think he really knew what to do without Avery there. I don’t think he’s ever seen me shed a tear before.

He planted his hand on my back and rubbed between my shoulder blades. Still, I told him nothing. I just let him try to comfort me until I calmed down enough to find my voice.

“Don’t tell her,” I pleaded, my face still hidden. “Let her enjoy the trip. It’s not his fault. Keep this between us. Please. ”

I was surprised when he agreed to that arrangement without asking for a single tidbit of more information. He and Avery don’t do secrets. Ever. Then again, neither do me and Avery. At least, we never used to. Apparently, we all do now. Because of me.

Seth asked no more questions. That was good. I hadn’t a clue how I’d answer them.

A tear slides down my cheek, I wipe it away with the pads of my fingers and reach for my wine glass, chugging the rest of it.

What a mess you’ve made, Penelope Sweeten. What a mess.

My phone buzzes.

Avery

right behind the bench! I wore a bright red toque so you can see me amidst all the yellow.

The game resumes and I watch with the same anticipation and anxiety as always. It doesn’t matter if we never speak again, I will always root for him. Even if it has to be from afar because we can’t stop hurting each other. He’s a part of me. A part of home.

Declan gets control of the puck a few minutes into the period. He is as quick as lightning, barrelling toward the net. He doesn’t glance away from their goalie as he reaches the crease. Without blinking or taking his attention away from the net, he passes the puck to the right.

Everyone had been expecting a shot, even the goalie. But Oscar Messer was waiting. Messer had known the play. His slapshot is so fast, I barely registered it.

The goalie sure didn’t.

The siren goes off and the crowd erupts. Messer and Declan slam into each other, shouting in triumph as their team forms a circle around them. Declan’s dimple pokes out from the side of his cheek. He lets out a scream of victory .

Fuck.

The thought of his lips sliding down the column of my neck floods my head out of nowhere. I swallow, remembering his husky laugh against my skin. Things had been so good, so easy with us. I had convinced myself I’d always have him like that, light-hearted and happy and there. Never too far. Never again.

I brushed my fingers against those dimples as his eyes burned into mine—pulling back to watch me come apart.

Fuccccck.

I hurriedly grab the half-empty bottle of wine and ignore the glass. I drink right from the bottle. Yet again, it’s that kind of night. That kind of life, really.

A flash of red blurs by the screen. I squeal, nearly falling off the couch. I scramble for my phone, swiping open the camera and aiming it at the TV. I wait, desperate for another sweep by the bench.

Sure enough—there they are. Avery is on her feet, arms in the air, screaming like a banshee. Her long, curled bob cut seems to jump up and down with her like it has a life of its own.

Seth is pointing at the ice, mouth moving a mile a minute. Declan can’t hear him, but I’m sure he can feel them there.

I snap the photo and send it to Avery as quickly as my fingers will allow.

Me

I spy with my little eye, something that is… red!!!

They replay Declan’s assist and I watch carefully, pulling myself into a sitting position. I take another gulp from the bottle, trying not to focus on those damn dimples as they flash across my screen.

My phone buzzes.

Avery

Look ma! I’m famous!!!!! Frame that. I’m sending it to everyone I’ve ever met.

Me

What a goal!

Avery

Right? Wish you were here!

I swallow, hugging the wine to my chest.

Me

Me too.

Avery

Seth wants me to ask you if you liked his present.

My brow furrows just as the doorbell rings. I stiffen, slowly leaning forward to peer down the hallway.

The doorbell rings again and my heart picks up a bit. I can’t see anything from this vantage point, but within seconds, the doorbell rings again. Standing, I grip the wine bottle by the neck and quietly pad toward the door.

I’m home alone. I’ve seen way too many documentaries that start like this.

I angle my body away from the windows and peer through the blinds. Two familiar faces are waiting out in the cold, their breaths making white puffs of smoke in the night air.

I shut my eyes, breathing out a sigh of relief.

Come on, Seth. I’m sad, not on the verge of losing it. I don’t need to be monitored.

I unlock the door and yank it open, shooting them both a look of disbelief.

Wyatt and EJ stand on the porch carrying two boxes of pizza, one box of cinnamon buns, and multiple packs of beer. They both turn toward me, shuffling awkwardly in the cold, their gazes slowly moving to the bottle of wine in my hand.

EJ’s brows jump to his hairline.

“It’s that kind of night?” Wyatt asks.

Yes.

I shoot him a look. “It was actually going to be a weapon in case you were here to kill me.”

EJ’s lips pull into a smirk. “Perfect ruse, no? Lure you out with cinnamon buns and smother you with pizza grease.”

I shrug, moving aside to let them in. “There are worse ways to go. Why didn’t you punch in the code?”

“I don’t know if you noticed,” Wyatt says, lifting his arms. “But our hands are full.”

The second they’re inside, EJ is storming toward the living room—probably irked that he’s missed some of the game in the short drive over. He tosses the cinnamon buns on the coffee table and flops onto the couch, immediately raising the volume.

Wyatt stays by the door, not yet kicking off his boots, lingering.

I glance up at him. “What?”

“Seth treated this like an emergency. You okay?”

I roll my eyes, gripping the wine bottle tighter. “I’m fine. Did he really think I couldn’t manage a few days alone?”

“I don’t know,” Wyatt murmurs, eyeing me carefully. “Can you?”

“ Yes,” I seethe. My eyes flicker to the pizza. “But I am grateful for your company. And the food.”

“Have you heard from him?” he asks, finally kicking off his shoes.

This isn’t about the him he’s thinking about. Not the one who matters.

I let out a breath. “Wyatt. ”

“I know,” he mumbles. “I’m just worried about you. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. As long as you’re okay.”

My icy irritation warms. His heart is in the right place.

“I’m okay. I haven’t heard from him in a few days. I’m taking that as a win,” I say quietly, meeting his eyes. “But I don’t want to talk about it. Okay?”

A few days of peace is welcomed. There’s been a lot of subtle threats, a lot of accusations that I’m greedy, and a whole bunch of reminders that his family can continue can keep this legal battle going until I’m broke.

I’m sure that he’s being influenced by his parents, or by his legal counsel, but I’m fully aware that this behaviour is majorly his doing. In his mind, if he’s not winning one hundred percent of the prize, he’s losing. Then, he gets mean.

When he does, I ignore him. It angers him, and in those rare moments, I win.

Wyatt smiles gently. That megawatt, crooked smile that I love. “Okay.”

“Now, get inside. I just saw Avery’s bright red head on the TV.”