Home > The Keeper(24)

The Keeper(24)
Author: Raine Miller

“Em, what is this? Are we done?” I ask with a sigh.

“Done? We just got on the phone.”

“I mean, is our relationship done?”

“No,” she says, finally looking at me through the screen. “I just said we needed space. A break. Time to focus on other things. I’m busy with school; you’re trying to settle in there. We just need some time.”

“That’s not how I read into it when you suggested a break.”

“Well, I’m sorry if that’s the case.”

“Are you? I mean, you talk about this Nick guy all the time. I just wonder if—”

“If what, Cal?” She’s now officially irritated. Her mouth puckers.

“If you’re seeing him. Nick. Are you?”

“That’s stupid, Cal. Get out of your own head.”

To me, her tone sounds defensive, and she’s turned away again, back to her computer screen, dismissing me.

“But is it stupid?” I challenge.

“Yes. I’m not seeing Nick. He’s in my cohort. We spend a lot of time together. Doing work. That’s all.”

A part of me, I think, wanted her to admit to it. To tell me she’s seeing him. It would make my raging guilt a little less…I wonder if, maybe, if I told her the truth, she would tell me the truth as well. We could work it out from there. This break. A breakup. I still feel a little in the dark about what this break really is.

“Do you still love me?” I shouldn’t have to ask.

“Oh my God, Cal,” she heaves, exasperated. “I feel like I’m dating a middle schooler. You need more pats on the head than a golden retriever. It’s exhausting.”

“Well, the last time you were in town, you barely touched me, even to hold my hand. You certainly didn’t want to be intimate. Is it any wonder I’m feeling a little unclear about your feelings for me these days?”

She sighs dramatically and faces me through the camera again. “Calum. We’ve hit a lull. A low point. It’s to be expected, I think. We’re in two different places, going through two different points in our careers. We need different things right now. Which is why I called a halt.”

“To our relationship.”

“Yes.”

“And this halt—it’s a breakup, right?”

“I mean, I guess? But the kind where you know you’ll eventually get back together. We just need time to get through this. I need to focus on my work here. You need to settle into your new team. We need to see where the wind blows us. Maybe it will bring us closer together. Maybe further apart. But for now? I just need to focus. I still care for you, but I just need space.”

Well, that’s about as clear as mud. In my mind, it’s all systems go for moving on. At least for now. Still, I need to know for sure. “So, in a break, are we seeing other people?”

She laughs. “Well, I suppose you can try.”

The fuck? I can try? “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re not exactly a lady killer.”

“I’m a professional hockey player, Emily. I don’t have to be a lady killer. The ladies come to us.”

She scoffs at me. “Calum Lefleur, you’re not talking about sleeping with one of those hockey hoes, are you?”

I raise a shoulder and make a noise, just to spite her.

She laughs out loud. “Well, good luck with that.”

I’ve already had sex with another woman, Emily, and no luck was needed. Just incredible chemistry.

Of course, I can’t say that. I’m not that disrespectful. I am still trying to process her words though. “We need to see where the wind blows us. Maybe it will bring us closer together. Maybe further apart.” She didn’t say whether or not she still loves me. She wants to live her life without me until the wind blows and we possibly end up together. And what it also boils down to is that she doesn’t believe anyone else would want me. As if she’s the only woman who would want to be with me.

It’s as if she thinks of me as this puppy, this little dog to be petted, sitting patiently, awaiting her attention. Well, I’m not.

“I was going to ask if you wanted to have phone sex.”

“Only you would be oblivious enough to ask for phone sex after talking about a breakup,” Emily says, shaking her head.

“I said I was going to ask. Just trying to reconnect is all, to see if we still have something there. Remember how we did phone sex when I was on the road that one time?”

“Cal, phone sex is not the way to reconnect.”

“Well, Em, neither is actually reconnecting, I guess. Romantic dinner? Weekend in a fun city? No, and no.”

Emily is quiet for a minute, and then she says, “Things change, you know?” It’s probably the most honest thing she’s said to me in a long while. At least she finally sounds sincere, and her tone isn’t bitter.

“They do,” I agree. I blow out a loud breath and add, “I’m sorry, Em. If a break is what you need, then let’s take a break. I want you to be happy.”

“I know you do, Cal, but right now I’ve got to go. We’ll talk in a few weeks, okay?”

She hangs up before I can even respond.

 

 

We’ve just won our first pre-season game, three to one. I’m in awe, really, of the precision of our starting lineup. I guess I shouldn’t be since I played them in last season’s divisional finals.

Of thirty shots on goal by LA, only about eighteen came close enough to need a save. Only one went in, which I consider good odds. Not great. I hate letting anything in, but the score was fair and sharp, and I can’t fault someone with good aim. The LA team was ready for us, and they put up a good fight.

Now we’re in the hotel bar, where a raucous country band is playing. The guys with wives and girlfriends are sitting around a few tables, shoved together haphazardly, various empty beer bottles and soda glasses strewn about.

Some of the rowdier guys have gone out for the night, but a few others sit at the bar with me. It’s nice to be included, and I’m getting a lot of claps on the back, but I feel like a fish out of water just sitting there, not understanding their inside jokes or knowing which puck bunny they’re referring to with their bedroom bragging.

I’ve never been into one-night stands or sleeping with groupies like some of my teammates have. It’s not that I judge them. I understand, I guess, the allure of it, of the party scene, of living fast and free. It’s just…I’m not built for that. I’m too reserved, too set in my ways, too reliant on structure.

“You look miserable, dude,” a voice says to my left. It’s Evan. “You stopped a shit-ton of shots tonight. You should be happy.”

“Well, I didn’t stop all of them.”

Evan lifts a shoulder and takes a swig from his beer bottle. “Enough to give us a win in our first pre-season.”

“A win is a win.”

“Exactly. You looked good out there; did you feel good?”

I nod. “Once I’m on ice, other things go away.”

“I understand that feeling. Guys being nice?”

“They’re fine.”

“And off ice? How are things with your girl?”

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