Chapter Thirty-Six

Myles

After practice I drive my car home and then head across the street to Malone’s. It’s only three in the afternoon, but I need some liquor. I’m not in the mood to be in my apartment, since I now have a memory of Flynn in almost every room, and thinking about what I lost again makes me fucking crazy.

“Hey! What can I get you?” the bartender asks as he finishes wiping down the counter in front of him.

“I’ll take a whiskey, on the rocks,” I say as I sit down. “Keep them coming.”

“Bad day?” he asks, his lips twisted to the side. He seems familiar. I realize that he’s the guy who carried Flynn back to Oli’s the day she found out about her cheating ex-boyfriend.

“Yeah, you could say that,” I grunt.

He passes me my drink and leaves to help other customers. I’ve been to this place with Oli a handful of times. As I twirl the whiskey in my glass, I try to figure a way of getting the most stubborn girl I know—well, now the most stubborn woman I know—to understand I had her best interest at heart. My mind keeps coming up blank. I throw down the remnants of my drink, and the bartender eyes me. He stops in front of me and gives me a refill.

The more alcohol I drink, the more I think of Flynn. I just spent the last month telling her we need to be open. I didn’t return the gesture. I took what I could get, and I was still the same fucking coward I was at eighteen.

The booze gives me the courage I need to call and tell her that. It’s good I have her on my recent call list because my hands aren’t steady. The phone rings, and I will her to pick it up. It goes to voicemail.

“Flynn, it’s Myles, but you probably know my voice. I need to say something, and you have to listen…or, I mean…you should listen to this message…” Fuck. I rub my head, trying to get my thoughts straightened out in my head. “Okay. I fucked up. I know I did. I looked you in the eye, and I lied to my best friend. Please don’t hate me. That night was messed up. I wasn’t thinking straight. And yes, I fucking feel guilty, okay! How could I not? That haunted look you had in your eyes that night has lived inside me. The guilt was eating away at me. I didn’t know how to tell you I lied. In your eyes, I was this good person. I didn’t want you to see me for the fuckup I truly am. I warned you, Flynn. That night at the skating rink I told you I have demons. That lie is one of them. So, there, I told you. Fuck! Don’t block me out.” I end the call, hoping whatever just came out of my mouth made some sense.

It looks dark out when I get ready to leave. Have I really been sitting here for five fucking hours? I slap a crisp one hundred-dollar bill on the bar and try to stand up. I’m fucking wasted.

“Hey, easy there.” The bartender comes up to me. “You okay to walk?” He looks like he doesn’t think I am.

“Yeah,” I slur and grab on to the bar. I lift my head and look at my building across the street. How am I going to get there without getting myself killed? It’s a fucking busy street.

“How about I walk you. You live across the way, right?” the bartender offers. He seems to go above and beyond in the customer service department.

“Nah, I’m good,” I respond. It’s a lie. I feel like I can fall asleep on the floor. Somewhere in the back of my head, I hope no one has recognized me and snapped a picture of my ridiculous state.

“I don’t think you are. You’re friends with that woman I carried home a while back,” he starts to say. I cringe at the mention of Flynn.

“Yeah.” I try to say it quietly, but I’m not sure I was effective.

He looks around the bar and tilts his head to the side, like maybe I’ve already been spotted.

“Look, this is my bar. If I let you cross the street and you get killed, it will be on my conscience. The people of Chicago will blame me for allowing their best player to get killed, and my business will suffer. I’d like to make sure you cross that deathtrap in one piece.” As he explains this to me, he waves for me to follow him, and I do because it makes sense.

We reach the curb, and we wait to cross. Fuck, people are driving like fucking lunatics. It kind of makes me dizzy, and I sway a little.

“Whoa, be careful.” He grabs my arm. “I don’t need you getting killed. Fuck. I figured, ’cause of your size and all, it’d be like water for you,” he says.

“I’m not much of a drinker.” We make it across the street. “Thanks, buddy. I’m good,” I say. There’s no way this guy is fucking walking me to the door. If Oli gets wind of this, he’ll never let me live it down.

“Okay, you have a good night. Score some goals for us tomorrow night.” He grins and takes off.

…

I wake up in the morning and check my phone. It’s already noon. What the fuck? Yesterday feels like a blur. I try to stand up, but the room is spinning. I’m going to hurl. I make it to the bathroom in time.

I hear Oli’s voice calling me from out in the hall.

“Myles, you alone, man?” he shouts.

“Yeah,” I yell back and then wince because my own voice makes my head pound.

Oli pushes my bedroom door open and cringes when he looks at me.

“What the fuck happened to you?”

“Your sister broke up with me,” I huff.

“No shit. I thought she was here, since she didn’t come home last night.” He turns to look around my room. “Where is she?”

“She said she needs space from you, too. She’s staying at Sloane’s.”

Oli leaves the room and a minute later returns with a tall glass of water and two Advil. This is why it’s nice he could move in beside me when he moved to Chicago. There’s nothing like family to take care of one another.

“Fuck, Myles, take a shower then come out here. We need to talk strategy,” he orders.

“I’m not in the mood to talk fucking plays now,” I rasp.

“I mean my sister, doorknob. We need to figure out a way to make her understand this is all my fault.” He looks at me as if I should have understood.

“Right,” I agree, throwing the Advils in my mouth and guzzling the glass of water. It feels good going down my throat. I trudge out of my bedroom toward the family room, and I feel like the floor is on an angle. I can’t still be drunk, can I? Fuck!

I take a seat beside Oli on the couch, and we discuss strategy. An hour in and we’ve got a game plan. Now I just need to make some calls and set things in motion. Flynn may be independent and stubborn, but I didn’t become the top paid player in the NHL by backing down. I’m giving this game my all, and at the end of the day, I plan on winning her heart.