Pucked (Pucked 1)

I call Darren. He’s the only other person I can think of who might be willing to help. Unfortunately, he doesn’t pick up, and it’s clear he’s still not talking to me off the ice.

I try one last person: my father. His ability to help is questionable.

“Hey, Alex.”

I make small talk for a minute or two until I can’t stand the awkward chit-chat. “I screwed up with Violet.”

“I know. So does most of North America as well as other hockey-watching countries.”

“You’ve messed up with mom, right?” She can be a bit of a Fruit Loop. I’m positive my father’s been in the dog house plenty of times.

“Of course.” My father sighs. “I have the benefit of keeping my private life private. That isn’t the case with you and Violet, is it?”

“No. It’s not. I shouldn’t have followed Dick’s advice.”

“No, Alex, you shouldn’t have.”

“I fired him.”

“It’s about fucking time.” My dad exhales into the receiver with a whoosh. There’s a good chance he’s doing research. “I know it was hard when you started playing professional hockey. I understand you want to be the best, and you want to prove you are. You don’t need the endorsements to do that.”

“I just wanted this, you know?”

“But at what cost, Alex? You don’t need validation. You’re team captain. You make more money a year than I will in a lifetime. What you need to do is be an older brother your sister can look up to, not one she has to defend because you’ve earned a shitty reputation over old rumors. And you need someone like Violet to keep your head on straight. Stop worrying about what other people think and do what’s best for you.”

“Violet is what’s best for me.”

“Then fight for her.”

“She won’t talk to me.”

“And you’re going to let that stop you? Since when do you give up that easily?”

He has a point. “I don’t.” I can find a way to get Violet’s attention. I shouldn’t let anything stand in my way. Especially not an endorsement. No matter how much I want it, it’s not worth losing Violet.

“Good. I hope you figure this out, son. I really like Violet. She’s good for you.”

“Let’s hope I can convince her I’m good for her, too.”

“You’ve got the art of persuasion on your side.”

“Thanks, Dad. I’m going to need it.”

I have to come up with something better than flowers or candy to fix this. I have to show her unequivocally that I need her far more than any endorsement.

I stew for several hours, trying to come up with a creative way to get Violet to hear me out. If she won’t answer my phone calls, there’s one option that worked in the past. Hunting her down is the best chance I have.

I change out of my sweats into dress pants and a button-down shirt. I should look presentable. I can’t do anything about my nose. The white bandage and splint cover the worst of the swelling and bruising.

The playoff beard has to stay, even if it makes me look less presentable. It’s a tradition I won’t mess with. The only way I’ll get back on the team’s good side is by playing well. Game four of the series is tomorrow night, and we’re up two-one. Shaving my beard could jinx the game. I concede by cleaning it up around the edges so I only look partly shitty.

I figure stopping at her house is my best first shot. Flowers aren’t going to be enough this time. I need something better. I stop by the coffee shop we went to on our first date. They have one of those caramel crunch cakes, but slices are missing. A piece isn’t enough; it has to be the whole thing. I still get her one of those green seaweed-looking drinks she likes, though.

An ice cream store down the street is still open. Girls like ice cream when boyfriends mess up, based on my experience with Sunny, and Violet likes cake, so it seems like a logical choice.

I wipe my sweaty palms on my pants after I park in Violet’s driveway behind her beat up SUV. A few media assholes tag along behind me, as seems to be the way of things these days. They stay on the sidewalk, keeping a respectable distance while they shout questions.

Sidney intercepts me before I get more than five feet from my car. We’re the same height, but right now, I feel small.

“Hello, Mr. Butterson. How are you this evening?” I check to make sure he doesn’t have a baseball bat hidden behind his back.

I’ve hurt Violet, which means he’s suffering in some way because of what I’ve done. It makes sense he’d be protective of Violet under these circumstances. I know what it’s like living with a scorned woman. If Sunny or my mother was miserable, everyone else in the house had to be, too.