The Lush and the Angel (New Hampshire Bears Book 10) Page 2

  “Um…well…” I’m an empty slate. “It’s nothing,” I say again.

  He inhales deeply then exhales making a growling sound. “Either you talk to me, or you won’t like what I have to say at the end of this meeting.”

  There it is. It’s not a threat. Oliver has proven time and time again if he says it, it’s either a) going to happen or b) he already did it. I can’t let him kick me off this team. I don’t have anything else but hockey. It’s my soul. My air. My life.

  “Okay, look.” I take a deep breath and lie my fucking ass off. “I did drink a lot, but it’s nothing. It’s not a big deal. I mean, we had a shitty last season, and I drowned my sorrows in vodka.” And gin. And beer. And everything in between. “It’s under control. I’m ready for training camp to begin and get back out on the ice.”

  Oliver stares at me. He’s studying my face. I can’t figure out if he believes me or not. His thumbs tap together, his lips tight, and he hasn’t even blinked yet.

  “You know there’s an American saying I use a lot, Bas.”

  Oh, fuck!

  “It’s a simple one. You can’t bullshit a bullshitter. Do you know what that means?”

  I nod. “Yes.”

  “I’m also the type of man who does not…let me repeat…does not give second chances. Don’t believe me…ask Teo. And I’m going to give you one more chance to tell me the truth.”

  What do I say? Nothing is wrong with me. I know this. It is under control. I just like to drink. Simple and easy.

  “Mr. Matthews—”

  “Oliver.” He corrects me.

  “Oliver,” I say. “I like to drink. I might overdo it from time to time, but it’s nothing. I know I keep saying that over and over, but it’s true. It’s nothing. I can stop anytime.”

  “You can stop anytime?” He raises one eyebrow.

  “Yes. Of course.”

  He still doesn’t blink as he processes my answer. “Zorn, I believe you to be a good guy. Hell, I handpicked you myself. I brought you here because I knew you would be the best and we could help you get there. I think of you as a son and I want what’s best for you.”

  My heart twists. He’s not serious. He’s a businessman and cares about his checkbook. “I’m fine.”

  He holds up one finger. “This is your only chance, Bas. If you need something, I mean anything, just ask and I’ll be there for you, Son.”

  “Yes, sir.” I quickly stand and rush away from him before being dismissed.

  Right before I go back into the locker room, I stop. My entire body is shaking. I don’t need a drink. I don’t need a drink. I take several deep breaths, trying to calm down myself.

  “England, you okay?”

  I turn to see Dag Limon, a defenseman for the Bears. Several of the players call me England since that’s where I’m from originally. “Ready to get on the ice.”

  “Well, let’s go.” He smiles and slaps my shoulder as he passes me into the locker room.

  Right, let’s go.

  Chapter Two

  Erin

  “Why am I such a good person?” I scold myself as I carry the rest of the bottles down to the recycling bin. I stomp back up the stairs to Bas’ apartment, slamming the door behind me.

  “I can’t believe I’m doing this. Again!” I yell to the empty room. For the past four hours, I have cleaned, scrubbed, mopped, and vacuumed his whole place.

  “Why?” I toss my hands up in frustration. “I’m such an idiot.”

  I growl, cuss, and even kick the furniture a few times because I’m furious with myself. I swore the last time I did this it would be the last time. I told myself a hundred times I would never step back into this apartment to clean it until Bas was sober. And even then, I wouldn’t do it. But here I am…

  “Like a fool.” I sigh.

  When I moved to Manchester, New Hampshire, I did it to get away from distractions and to keep to myself.

  “Men suck!” I holler out slamming his clothes into the washing machine. “They suck so much.” I jab the buttons to start the machine and I head back into the bedroom. I change his sheets and straighten up everything.

  Hell, I did everything!

  “Why?” I ask myself again as I put the clothes away I just finished.

  I push my hand through my bangs and try to remember Bas is my friend and he does need help. In reality, he’s a drunk who needs treatment and professional help, but he doesn’t want to seek it.

  Yet.

  I’m hoping someday he does before it’s too late. I’ve seen the effects of alcoholism first-hand. It destroys families, friends, lives. It’s why I don’t touch the stuff. I can barely stand the smell of it. It’s one reason why I’ve spent hours upon hours in here cleaning up this pigsty. Plus, the stench was drifting into my apartment.

  “I quit.” I announce to the empty room and head toward the door, grabbing my cleaning supplies.

  Just as I’m about to reach the door, it opens and Bas comes strolling in, looking as if he’s been hit by a truck. He’s paler than normal, sweating, and visibly shaking.

  “Oh shit.” I drop everything and grab him just as he’s about to hit his knees to the floor. “Come on, Bas. You have to walk. You can’t collapse here.”

  “I can’t do it.”

  “Yes, you can. Get your ass up as if there’s bangers and mash in the living room.”

  He groans at my poorly executed joke. “Don’t mention food.”

  Working together we’re able to get him to his feet and over to the couch before he falls in a heap, along with me next to him. “How did it go today?”

  “Fucking mess.”

  I’m not shocked. In fact, I’m surprised he was even able to make it to the first day of training camp.

  “Oliver wanted to talk to me.”

  “And you lied your ass off saying you didn’t have a drinking problem.” I push myself off the couch and stand up.

  “I don’t have a problem.”

  “Right.” I sarcastically nod. “Because everyone shakes to death as if they’ve been hanging in a deep freezer in September when it’s ninety degrees outside. Seems totally normal.”

  “Shut up, Erin. I’m fine.” He grits.

  “Yep, heard that line before.” I roll my eyes and head back toward my cleaning supplies. “I’m going home. Not that you care and your thanks for cleaning up your shitty ass apartment is enough. Later, asshole.” I slam the door before he has time to say any smart comment back to me. I don’t want to hear it anyway.

  I storm the short distance across the hall to my apartment. This is my sanctuary. It’s the place I can shut away the entire world and not have to listen to anyone else but myself. Since I had been cleaning for so long I jump into the shower and wash away the scum and smell of Bas’ apartment.

  My life has changed so much more than I ever thought it would the day I met Bas Zorn. I had been working on my computer all day and night and was lost in the lines of coding and graphics when I heard a ruckus in the hall. I’m nosy as hell, therefore, I had to leave my chair and go figure out what was happening. I peeked out of the peephole and saw the back of a tall man’s head. His brown hair was short and well managed. His black t-shirt was tight. I clearly saw the outlines of his muscles.

  Well, hello, handsome.

  He was lifting boxes and carrying them into the apartment across from me.

  Well, hello, neighbor.

  I watched from the peephole a lot longer than I should have, but I couldn’t get a clear picture of his face. His ass was fantastic as he bent down and squatted to move and lift some boxes—I wanted to see his face.

  Bring a gift.

  I snapped my fingers at my brilliant idea and grabbed a cupcake I baked earlier. I went to open the door but stopped for a second. Why am I always doing this? Why am I always throwing myself at the first hint of testosterone? Why couldn’t I be the independent female I portrayed myself to be? I took a deep breath and slowly backed away from the door. I placed the
cupcake back where I got it, walked over to my desk, and reluctantly went back to work.

  I sat there for several minutes until a thought hit me.

  Wait! I can go over and at least be a friendly neighbor. Right?

  I got up and grabbed the cupcake again, placing it on a small dish, and strolled across the hall.

  The door was now shut. I gently knocked on it, instantly feeling nervous. When he opened it, I rushed out. “Hi, I’m Erin.” Practically shoving the dessert into his hands like an idiot.

  “Hi. I’m Bas.”

  Shut the front door! He’s English! “Hi,” I manage to say again, in a more normal tone, while trying not to drop to my knees and worship him.

  “Did you bake this delicious looking cake?”

  I could listen to him read a telephone book and be perfectly content for the rest of my life. “Yes, I did.”

  “Would you like to share it?”

  It’s from that point life changed with Bas.

  My safe space is my computer. I can’t explain it, but it just is. Computers have been saving me longer than I can remember. I think they always will too. However, I’m pissed off right now because I can’t get this app to work the way I want it to. It seems to freeze up and I can’t figure it out.

  Knock. Knock.

  I sigh because I know who is on the other side. It’s not rocket science. I open the door as Bas stands there, looking like death.

  “Hungry?”

  He shakes his head.

  “I’m not giving you a drink.” I cross my arms.

  “Please.” He begs.

  It takes two seconds for me to cave to him. “Come in.” Why do I give into him? “I’m getting you some coffee.”

  “What’s that going to do for me?” He growls at me.

  “Shut up. Sit down.” I order him and go back to making the coffee. “Are you going to get help?” I know the question is moot. I’ve asked him a hundred times before and he never answers.

  “I’ll take the coffee black.”

  I roll my eyes, but my back is to him and he can’t see. He’s ignoring my question. “Cabel gave you the number to the therapist lady he knows.”

  “He doesn’t know her.” He growls. “She’s helped out others on the team.”

  I push start on the Keurig and face him. “It doesn’t matter. She can help you, and you definitely need help.” I point my finger in his face. Yes, it can come across disrespectful, but he deserves it right now. “You’re lying to everyone and you look like death. Is this truly what you want?”

  He stares at me, knowing I’m right, but he still won’t answer.

  The coffee drips its last drop and I place it in front of him. “Are you hungry?” As mad as I am at him, I want to make sure he’s okay.

  He shakes his head, sipping the hot liquid.

  “You have to eat.” I sigh. I’m sure he’s not eaten since the last time I made him something because he never cooks on his own.

  “No, I’m okay.”

  “Bas.” I glare at him, placing my hands on my hips. “You can lie to everyone else but not me. Do you understand?”

  Our eyes connect. Somewhere in there is the Bas I grew to…care for. Our late-night talks, the laughter, the sex, but he changed several months ago. I don’t know why and he never said. He never told me, even though I asked him many times. He said nothing, but I continue to be by his side. We never dated, yet there has always been a connection between us. At least, I felt it. Bas doesn’t express himself. He’s very closed off. This is something I always knew about him.

  “I don’t need help. I can handle this on my own.” His jaw ticks. It’s a sign I’ve learned to look for because it’s his tell. He’s getting angry.

  “You’re out of control, Bas.” My stare remains on him. “You will lose everything.” Including me.

  Neither of us blink for a full minute.

  “Thanks for the coffee.” He leaves the barely touched cup on the breakfast bar and walks out of my apartment.

  Every cell in my body wants to run after him and help him, but I know he has to help himself first. He doesn’t think he has a problem, which is a problem. I’ve watched him grow more dependent on alcohol. He’s spiraling into a black hole. Soon, no one will be able to get him out of it.

  Emails. Emails. Emails. Emails. Emails.

  It seems the moment the inbox empties, fifty more show up. Nonetheless, this is how I make the money and I like money. I sip some green tea as the clock glows brightly showing me it’s three in the morning. Pulling another all-nighter isn’t too far from the norm for me.

  Rubbing my eyes, I stand up from the office chair and stroll over to the door and glance through the peephole. Bas’ door. I wish I had super powers to know how he’s doing on the other side. Even though my hand is on the doorknob to turn it and go over there, I don’t do it. Instead, I trudge over to the kitchen, clean up my dishes, and hope when the sun comes up it’ll bring a better day for all.

  As I crawl into bed, I turn the sound machine on low. Some think it’s stupid that the sound of falling rain relaxes me, but it does. I take a deep breath in and out trying to relax.

  It’s not working.

  My thoughts are consumed by Bas. There’s no reason why I should care this much. I’m so damn independent and no man has ever pushed my buttons like Bas has. Twenty-four hours seven days a week, he’s on my mind. I can’t stop the thoughts and feelings from taking over when I’m not working. It’s the only time I don’t think of him.

  I continue to breathe and listen to the fake rain filling up the room and soon the exhaustion takes over and I fall asleep.

  Chapter Three

  Bas

  I had to walk to the liquor store after leaving Erin’s, and it was the most painful thing I ever had to do. It took forever. I bought four bottles of vodka, and I was barely a block away before I cracked open the first one.

  Now the sun is blazing in my face, and I’m crawling to the bathroom to get ready for my day. I have to get to practice soon—I can’t be late—but I have to clean up. I passed out sitting at the kitchen table. Thankfully I didn’t chuck up anything. Well, there was nothing in my stomach anyway. I hadn’t eaten, but I wasn’t hungry.

  Only thirsty.

  Bang. Bang. Bang.

  I thought the pounding in my head had gotten worse, but it’s someone at my front door. It takes all my strength to get up on my feet and make my way to the front of my apartment.

  “Fuck,” I moan seeing who’s on the other side through the peephole. “Fuck.”

  “Open this door now, Bas.” Cabel orders me.

  I unlock the locks and open it. “Who let you up?”

  “Erin.” He thumbs behind him to her door. “I see you’re not ready.”

  “I slept in.” I lie.

  “No you didn’t.” He forces his way in, and I roll my eyes.

  Damn he can be overbearing.

  “Here.” He shoves a bag into my hands. “Eat this and get showered. We still have time.” He checks his watch.

  I open the bag, and my senses are filled with smells of an overloaded, stuffed to the brim breakfast burrito. My stomach growls loudly.

  “When did you eat last?”

  I shrug, pulling out the food and practically inhaling it. I ate it faster than I can enjoy the deliciousness of the contents.

  “Get in the shower.” He demands.

  I do and let the hot water wash over me and hope it’s enough to get me through this day. It’s going to be a long season, but I can do it. I can handle this.

  After getting dressed, I feel better coming back out to Cabel. My bag for practice is already setting there, and I know he’s the one who packed it. I hadn’t touched it since I dropped it in the corner when I came home yesterday.

  “Here.” He tries to hand me a mini bottle of vodka. “Drink it fast and brush your teeth again.”

  “Are you taking a piss?” I don’t reach for it. This had to be a trick of some sort.
>
  “No, I’m not joking.” He’s serious. “You need help, but I can’t stand seeing you looking like shit. Just call me an enabler.” He grabs my hand and slaps the tiny bottle in it. “I feel horrible for helping you with your addiction.”

  “I’m not—”

  “Shut the fuck up.” He holds up his hand, stopping me from finishing my sentence. “I know the truth and I hope—before it’s too late—you can admit it.” He picks up my bag and leaves me alone in the apartment.

  My gaze goes from the door back to the bottle in my hand. I do this several times. “This is my last one.” I announce to the empty room and crack open the bottle, taking it down in two quick swigs.

  I make it through practice with minor issues. Mostly it’s Cabel shooting daggers at me. It’s going to be okay though. I know I have a handle on this, and it’s going to be fine.

  It’s going to be fine.

  It’s going to be just fine.

  I work out with Vance after practice. I’ve always liked Vance. He and his wife, Dacey, have always treated me well.

  “How is Erin?” he asks, setting the bar down in its cradle.

  “She’s fine.” It’s not a lie. The last time I saw her she seemed fine.

  “Are you two still seeing each other?” He walks closer to me as I hit stop on the exercise bike.

  “We were never seeing each other. We’re friends.”

  “Friends who…had sex.” He smirks. “That still happening?”

  I shake my head. “Nope. The season is starting, and I need to get my head back in the game. Last season…” I trail off. I don’t really want to talk about the horrible season. It just replays over and over in my head until I drink it away.

  “Are you meeting up with your brothers soon?”

  And there it is…

  The question I hate the most. Out of all the questions asked of me, this one cuts right into my soul. Everyone knows I’m one of triplets. Everyone knows about our parent’s lives ending. Everyone knows I’m the big-time hockey player. However, the world quickly found out I wasn’t the only athletic talent in the family. A year after I was drafted by the Bears, my brother Bax came to Manchester to play for the Cats, a major league baseball team. Then my brother Beck came to the United States to finish his university studies and walked onto the football team. He became an instant star and was drafted to a major football team. At the end of their season last year, he was traded to the Concord Rams. All three of us live closer to each other since I left England, and we’ve hardly spoken to each other.