Brooks was fast asleep when she woke up a few minutes past eight. He was on his stomach with his arm thrown over her body. It felt good to wake up with someone. And it felt better to have that someone want to be close to you. If you added Brooks Laich into the equation, Marie was pretty sure she was the luckiest girl in the world.

Hoping to surprise him with breakfast when he woke, she slipped out from under his arm. The sheet was covering his ass. Unable to resist, she lifted it up and took a peek. Damn, she thought. His ass was muscular and tight and round. She would have been upset that he had a better ass than her, but the fact that he had a better ass than everyone else took the sting out of it.

Marie tip-toed into her the guest bedroom and threw on a pair of jeans and an old T-shirt. There was a coffee shop a mile away. She could pick something up and be back in fifteen minutes.

The place was busier than she anticipated with a line that started a few feet from the entrance. While she stood there and thought about how much she was head over heels for the man whose bed she just left, the door opened with a jingle. Marie glanced over her shoulder and saw a familiar face--the girl who'd been siting on John Carlson’s lap at the club so many weeks ago.

The dark-haired woman was with a tall blonde who was just as striking. Marie briefly caught the eye of Carlson’s girlfriend, or whoever she was to him and gave the woman a tight smile, preparing to make small talk. Within a fraction of a second, it was obvious that the woman didn't remember Marie. Deciding it'd be best to just pretend like she didn't know her either, Marie turned to look ahead and let her mind drift back to Brooks.

"I caught him screwing around last week. So, boom, Coach purse."

Marie jerked her head around to glance at the two women behind her. Carlson’s girlfriend was holding up an expensive-looking purse. Marie watched from the corner of her eye as the woman continued.

"It's like hitting the jackpot. Great sex and I get to guilt him into buying me whatever I want when he fucks around. Plus, he's gone half the time so I can do whatever I want. Or whoever I want."

"Ovie bought me my Lexus when he fucked that bitch at Kai," the blonde replied.

The black-haired girl laughed. "Shit, I should go big next time. I have enough purses. A new car would do the trick. I asked Kirsten to give me the deets on what he does next month while he's away training in Cali. I'll use it as ammunition to get that sexy Escalade."

"Think he'll take the bait?" the blonde asked.

"Of course. He can't help himself. Some slut struts by and he's got his dick out. And he'll give me whatever I want so I'll stick around in D.C. and sleep with him when he's in town."

The blonde laughed. "They're all like that. Friends with benefits and a shitload of presents if they think you're gonna cut and run when they fuck up."

"As long as he keeps paying my rent, I'm sticking around."

Marie felt sick. The two women we're laughing but nothing they had said was funny. Not in the least. Blindly, she pushed past them and out of the shop. She got back into her car and gripped the steering wheel tight. They're all like that, the blonde had said. All of them and Brooks was one of them.

Was she his easy lay at home? The sex was fantastic, but he'd never asked her for monogamy or said he loved her. Hadn't even said he had feelings for her. She'd just assumed things were going in that direction, but maybe they weren’t. Maybe she was a willing body to warm his bed while he fucked around with whoever he wanted. Did he think she'd just lie back and accept gifts to repay her? Obviously other women did.

All of them are like that. She felt panic rising in her chest. He'd been so nice, so sweet, so patient with her. But his life was so different than anything she was used to. And she'd never really thought she stood a chance with him anyway. Letting the sex go to her head and entertaining notions of a real relationship was stupid. So stupid. What if she was just the bed warmer while he was on the prowl for a real girlfriend. One that modeled for Victoria’s Secret and could differentiate between Coach and Prada.

Her stomach was in knots and she felt like she could throw up. She shoved open the door of the car and leaned out, dry-heaving. Nothing came out and she felt worse than ever. She sat in the parking lot for twenty minutes before deciding that she needed to get out of his house. It was too good to be true, and she should have known better. She should have been more careful about who she let share her bed and who she let into her heart. Fucking men. Fucking hockey players. Fucking Capitals.

Marie’s heart ached as she drove back to his house and let herself in. She hurried quietly through the house and started shoving clothes into a duffle bag.

“Hey, baby. What are you doing?” Brooks was standing in the doorway in his boxers. He absently rubbed his short hair with a hand while he watched her. He looked confused.

Marie shook her head. “I, uh, I’ve got to go.”

He took two steps into the room. “What happened?”

“I’ve just got to go. I can’t be here right now.”

When she dared a quick glance up, he looked so confused. He probably didn’t get turned down often. Or ever.

“Penguin, what are you talking about? Come back to bed.” Brooks walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. Marie froze and then threw her elbows back, ducking away from him and spinning to the side. She snatched the bag off the bed. “Marie, what did I do?” he asked. He sounded so goddamned concerned that it almost broke her, almost made her stop and talk to him.

But talking wouldn’t get them anywhere. They’d done that for months. And now he was going to have his cake and eat it too. But not with her. She couldn’t be there for him if he was going to be like every other hockey player, if he was just going to fuck around like Ovechkin or Carlson or Green. They probably all did it; she just hadn’t wanted to believe it. Especially about him. She’d thought Brooks was different.

“I can’t do this. I’m not going to be your standby fuck,” she said, practically running out of the bedroom and down the stairs.

“Marie!” He was on her heels. He grabbed her arm right as she opened the front door. “Talk to me, please. I don’t understand.”

“I realized what this is, Brooks. And I’m going to get hurt. You don’t care about me; you just want someone to be here when you’re bored and horny.” She jerked her arm out of his hand.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” he demanded.

She was halfway to her car. Brooks was standing on the front stoop. Marie turned around and looked at him. There were tears in her eyes now. For the first time since the bottom had dropped out of her fantasy. “I can’t,” she told him.

“Marie, please.”

“I can’t,” she repeated, jumping into her car and backing out of the driveway. She almost hit the curb in her hurry to get away.

*************************************

He’d called her fifteen times. Fifteen times in six hours. She had four voicemails, but she couldn’t listen to them. They would hurt too much. Instead, she sat in her car at the far end of an empty grocery store parking lot over thirty miles from his house. She’d been there for most of the day, trying to make herself believe she should have seen this coming from a mile away, and she would be fine without Brooks. She didn’t need him. He’d only been in her life for three or four months. She’d find an apartment and then hire movers to get her shit out of his house. She wouldn’t even have to see him.

Her stomach rumbled, demanding food, but she had no appetite. It felt like she’d never have an appetite again. The last time she’d broken up with a boyfriend, she’d lost ten pounds in two weeks. Marie smiled wryly. This trauma was worth at least twenty pounds, easy. Who needed diets when you could get her heart destroyed by Mr. Perfect to kickstart your weight loss?

Amy Winehouse was on rotation. Tears Dry On Their Own had been repeated many times since she’d been sitting in the parking lot, trying to think of what her next move was. But now it was the demo of Love is a Losing Game. And she felt her heart breaking all of over again. Marie folded her body up and pressed her forehead to the console between the driver’s and passenger’s seats. Sobs racked her body as Amy’s soulful, vulnerable voice cut through the stuffy air of the car.

Though I battle blind, love is a fate resigned. Memories mar my mind. Love is a fate resigned. Over futile odds. Laughed at by the gods. And now the final frame. Love is a losing game.

The song ended and the car went silent. It was the end of the album and she hadn’t set it to repeat. She’d told herself that when it ended she would finally make a decision about where she’d find a hotel to spend the night. At least it was a weekend and she wouldn’t have to go into work tomorrow.

Instead, she looked at the screen of her phone. Four messages. With a deep and bracing breath, she typed in her code and turned on the speaker. The machine told her the details and then allowed Brooks to plead his case.

Message received on May thirteenth at eight-fifty-seven AM:
“Marie, please call me. I don’t know what you think, but you’re wrong.”

Message received on May thirteenth at nine-seventeen AM:
“Baby, come on. I... I need you to call me. Tell me what’s wrong. Call me.”

Message received on May thirteenth at eleven-twenty-two AM:
“Please. Call me.”

Message received on May thirteenth at two-thirty-five PM:
“Penguin, call your brother. Ask him what I told him when we packed up your U-Haul. Please, just do that one thing.”

He sounded as torn up as she felt. For a moment she wondered if he was being sincere. If he really was different. And then she realized that if it’s too good to be true , then it usually is. Marie covered her face and cried. Finally, with shaking hands, she deleted all four voicemails and turned her phone off. Her entire chest hurt.

She drove in circles for two hours and then got a burger from a fast food place that had a drive-thru. She couldn’t taste it and ended up throwing half away. Another hour of aimless driving brought her to a Hampton Inn near the interstate. She rented a room and hung the do not disturb sign on the door.

It was almost seven o’clock and she felt exhausted and unable to even take a shower. She forced herself to do it anyway. He was still all over her; she could smell the scent of his skin on herself, especially when she made a sudden movement. It made her want to start crying again.

He’d asked her to call Derrick. But he could have just as easily called Derrick and asked him to tell her a white lie so she would forgive him. What could Derrick say now that would make the situation any different, any better? It was what it was. The hockey world was dog eat dog and she just wasn’t cut out for the games. Her heart always got involved and this was way too dangerous. He was way too dangerous.

Lying in bed, she dialed her brother’s number. Jenna answered.

“Jenna, can you do me a favor?”

“Sure, what’s up?”

“Do you know where Derrick’s cell phone is?”

“On the kitchen table. Why?”

Marie swallowed. In for a penny, in for a pound. “Can you look at the call history and tell me if Brooks called him today?”

“Uh, ooooohkaaaaay.”

Marie waited while her sister-in-law looked.

“Nope. No calls today.”

“Does he know how to delete them?”

Jenna laughed. “Are you kidding me? This is your brother we’re talking about. He has a flip phone, Marie.”

Marie pulled in a shaky breath. “Yeah. Uh, did anyone call the house today?”

“A telemarketer trying to sell us Fios internet and Aaron’s hockey coach telling us that practice is a two instead of four tomorrow. Why? What’s going on?”

“No one else?”

“No. Marie, what’s wrong?”

Jenna sounded so concerned. The softness of it broke Marie down. She could feel the tears leaking out of her eyes again. “I fucked up,” she said, her voice sounded thick and muffled.

“What happened?”

“I slept with him.”

“Holy shit,” Jenna whispered. “And?”

“And what?”

“How was it?”

Marie laughed through her tears. “The best two nights of my entire life.”

“So, what did you fuck up?”

“I think he’s just using me. I, I went into a coffee shop this morning and ran into a girl I saw with another player on Brooks’ team. She was with a woman that knows another team member. I overheard them talking about how all the guys like to keep a girl on the hook at home, but they fuck around with other women all the time when they’re on the road. And that the girls at home stick around because the guys feel guilty and buy them expensive presents.”

“Were they talking about Brooks?” Jenna asked.

“No, they didn’t say him, but... but it’s probably true. I mean, why else would he mess around with me? He probably thinks I’m easy to keep on the hook. He’s out of my league. Shit, he probably thinks he wouldn’t even have to buy me presents; I’d just be happy to be sleeping in his bed a couple nights a week.”

Jenna was silent for a long moment. Finally, she said, “Marie, are you sure these aren’t your own hang-ups about guys?”

“Guys are assholes,” Marie replied, sniffing and wiping at her nose.

“Not every guy. Don’t just assume this shit about him. Ask him to be honest with you.”

“I can’t now! I stormed out. I’m in a hotel. I can’t see him because it’ll kill me.”

“Marie, he seemed like a genuinely nice guy. I can see a bullshitter a mile off, and he wasn’t a bullshitter.”

“Then why did he want me?”

“Honey,” Jenna said, her voice soft, “maybe he cares about you. You two were friends for months before anything happened. The way he watched you--that wasn’t just lust.”

Marie didn’t have anything to say to that. She sniffed again and used the edge of her shirt to wipe away the salty tears on her face.

Jenna spoke up again. “Why did you ask me about Derrick’s phone?”

“Because Brooks left me a message that I should call my brother and ask Derrick what they talked about when they were loading my U-Haul a couple weeks ago.”

“Did they talk?”

Marie could still see it. Her brother and Derrick standing by the truck. Brooks was talking while Derrick stared at the ground. And then her brother looked up and said something. Brooks nodded and continued talking. They had shaken hands afterward. Derrick had even clapped Brooks on the back twice, like they were buddies.

“Yeah,” she said. “I saw them, but I didn’t hear anything.”

“Then you need to talk to your brother. Hold on.”

Marie waited while the phone was shuffled around. She could hear muffled talking--Jenna’s voice and then her brother’s. Finally Derrick said, “Marie, what’s wrong?”

“Brooks told me to ask you what he said to you when you two were loading the U-Haul.”

“What? Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know. What did he say?”

Derrick was quiet. “Look, Marie. I really think you should be asking him this question. It’s kind of personal.”

She sniffed again. “You’re my goddamn brother. Tell me what he said.”

“Are you crying?”

His question started the waterworks all over again. She felt like a fucking mess. “Things got complicated. I... slept with him. And then I found out that he’s probably just using me for easy sex when he’s bored.”

“Wow, uh, this is above my pay grade,” Derrick said. “What makes you think he’s using you?”

Marie snorted. “Because that’s what all hockey players do. Carlson and Ovechkin do it. I overheard their fuck buddies talking this morning.”

“And how do you know Laich does it?”

“Why else would he want me?”

Derrick sighed. “Jesus, Marie. You’re better than this.”

“You’re damn right I am. I left. I checked into a hotel. But his last voicemail told me to call you. So I’m calling, big brother. What did he say to you?”

“No, Marie. You’re too good to think that no one would want you. Don’t be fucking stupid. He told me he was in love you with. He said he didn’t know when, but that some things that had happened recently that made him realize he needed you in his life. And he told me he would take care of you, that I wouldn’t have to worry.”

“What?” she said, her vision blurred by the tears. Everything seemed far away.

“He’s in love with you, you idiot.”

Love. The word echoed in her brain. “Did you believe him?”

“Yes.” Derrick’s voice was flat. “I believed him.”

“Oh.” Love. In love. With her. Why would he say that? Especially to her brother.

Derrick said, “Look, Marie. You need to suck it up and be an adult. Go over there and talk to him about this.”

“I, I’ll think about it.” She felt numb now. It was too much.

“Look, you better do it. Because Matt and Aaron are telling everyone on their hockey team that they’re in spitting distance of having an uncle that plays for the NHL. You better not disappoint them.”

Marie hung up. She couldn’t even say goodbye. Her brother had been trying to lighten the mood by making a joke, but it was too raw. She couldn’t joke.

In love with her.

Notes

I'll fix it tomorrow. Sorry!

Also, if you'd like to listen to the two Amy Winehouse songs mentioned in this chapter, you may do so here:
Tears Dry on Their Own
Love is a Losing Game (demo)