Those Three Little Words

Blakely: You’re an asshole.

I stare at my phone, wholeheartedly agreeing with her text.

I am an asshole.

I ended the conversation with Penny last night rather abruptly and haven’t texted her since, and the text from Blakely tells me Penny was affected.

I text her back.

Eli: I know.

I scoop a pile of eggs into my mouth while I watch the three dots on the screen, taunting me, preparing me for a response.

Blakely: Going dark on her, especially now. You’re all kinds of messed up, Hornsby. Don’t worry, I’m picking up the pieces you keep breaking off her.

I pinch the bridge of my nose and let out a heavy breath.

Fuck.

Eli: It’s not what you think.

Blakely: You don’t WANT to know what I think, especially about you. I should never have left her alone with you on your birthday. I’ll forever regret that.

Eli: Probably the right verdict.

Blakely: Seriously, what’s wrong with you?

Eli: Still trying to figure that out.

Blakely: Do me a favor, at least call her today. Out of all days, call her today.

Call her.

Hear her voice?

Dip into the one thing that I crave . . . no. I can’t.

I set my phone down and finish eating my eggs. Focus on the game. We have to win tonight.

We can’t lose. If we do, we’re out. That’s the end of the season, and if the season ends, then I have to face the one thing I don’t want to right now: my feelings for Penny.

THE LOCKER ROOM is eerily quiet as we prepare for our game. We’re an hour away from the puck drop and are now finishing treatments, warming up, and attempting to get our heads in the right mindset.

I haven’t spoken to Penny since her last text last night, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. Should I have spoken more to her? Did I do the right thing?

Should I have called her like Blakely suggested?

Pacey walks into the locker room after getting his hamstrings stretched. He’s been sore lately so he’s been spending extra time in the training room.

Instead of walking over to his assigned locker, he walks toward me and takes a seat. Stretching his legs out in front of him, he says, “So what did you do for her today?”

Huh?

“Do for her today?” I ask. “What do you mean?”

Pacey slowly turns toward me. “For Penny.”

I wrack my brain for what the hell he might be talking about. Blakely’s comment about calling Penny comes to mind. What the hell is today? Did she have a doctor’s appointment and not tell me?

“I’m assuming you sent her something,” Pacey adds.

Sent her something?

Dread creeps up the back of my neck as my mouth goes dry.

“Dude . . . I . . . I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Pacey’s brows narrow. “It’s her goddamn birthday, and you didn’t send her anything? You said you care about her.”

“It’s Penny’s birthday?” I ask. All the color in my face completely drains. “She didn’t say anything to me. I had no fucking clue.”

Then again, you shut her off before she could even say one word to you. She tried striking up several conversations with you yesterday, you fucking moron, and you didn’t engage.

“Holy fuck.” I scramble in my locker to find my phone, and when I have it in my hand, I move past a fuming Pacey and straight to the phone room designated for the guys to talk to their families without the raucous of the locker room in the background.

Half-dressed for the game, I shut the door behind me and quickly dial her phone number. I listen as it rings.

And rings.

And rings.

“Hey, it’s Penny. Sorry I couldn’t get to the phone right now, but leave a message, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Thanks.”

Beep.

I hang up, not bothering with a message.

Pacing the room now, I dial up Blakely and listen to it ring and ring until voicemail picks up.

Fuck.

I try to call Penny again when my phone buzzes with a text message.

Blakely: I’m at the movies with Penny. What the hell do you want?

My fingers fly over the keyboard as I text back.

Eli: It’s her goddamn birthday? I didn’t fucking know. Can you ask her to call me?

Blakely: Uh . . . no. She’ll call you if she wants to call you. And yes, it’s her birthday. Way to make her cry on it, you piece of human garbage.

Eli: Blakely, I swear, I didn’t know. Fuck, I need to talk to her.

Blakely: Honestly, just leave her alone. We finally got her to have some fun. You texting her will only ruin it. Just focus on your game, like you told her you were doing last night.

Eli: I was doing that.

Blakely: Bullshit. And I’ll say this right now, if you’re out there living your single life, I’ll actually murder you.

Eli: I’m NOT! Jesus, I care about Penny. I’d never do that to her.

Blakely: But you will ghost her on her birthday. Even better. I hope you break a rib tonight. Peace.

“Fuck,” I yell just as the door opens and Pacey peeks his head through. “Man, listen—”

He walks into the room and shuts the door, only to lean against it. He folds his arms over his chest and says, “No, you listen. We have a game in less than an hour. We need you to be present. You can worry about Penny later.”

Feeling like I was just hit by a goddamn truck, I say, “Dude, I really fucked up.”

“Good, you recognize that. You’re just going to have to beg for forgiveness later.”

“You’re not mad at me?”

“As Winnie pointed out to me, I can’t insert myself in the relationship you have with Penny. You two have to figure that shit out. And like I said, hurt her, and you’re dead to me. I know hurting her today wasn’t intentional. After we’re done with all of this, I expect you to make it right.”

“I will.” I swallow hard. “I fucking will.”

“Good. Now, a fuck-ton of people are relying on us to play our best hockey. Get your fucking head on straight so we can go win this, Hornsby.”

“Got it.” I have a job to do, so I’ll get my shit together.

And then, hopefully, I can fix things with Penny.