Wild Zone (Rough Riders Hockey 4)

The television was turned to some type of game, but Tate didn’t even know what sport was playing. Tate stared at the ceiling. “That’s shitty beer you got, man.”

“Oh yeah?” Beckett asked, amused.

“Yeah. I’m drunk off my ass, and I can still feel the hole the size of Texas gnawing at my gut.”

“Mmm,” Beckett mused. “Sorry to tell you that’s not likely to go away anytime soon, bro.”

Tate rubbed his eyes then looked at his phone again, checking the time? It was 10 p.m. He tapped the redial button.

“Tate,” Beckett said.

“This is the last time, I swear.”

“You said that two times ago.”

“Hi,” Quinn answered.

“Hey. Anything?”

“No. I’m sorry. I haven’t heard from her. If it makes you feel any better, she’s not answering my texts or phone calls either.”

No, that didn’t make him feel any better. It only meant she’d lumped Tate in with the other people in her life who’d hurt her. So he turned to his next most pressing issue. “Any bites on a caterer?”

“I’m sorry to say, nothing good on that front either.”

Fuck.

“I guess if we don’t hear back by tomorrow, I’ll call everyone and cancel.”

“I can take care of that—”

“No. That’s something I have to do personally. Assure everyone they’ll get their money back. You could contact a few charities, see if you could find someone who could use the food.”

“Sure. I’ll do that first thing.” She paused. “Tate, I’m really—”

“Please don’t. I’ve heard enough sorry’s for a lifetime. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

He said goodbye and disconnected. Then went back to staring at his phone. “Man, what a fucking failure of a year.”

“If you’re giving up on her already,” Beckett said, “then you deserve to lose her. Maybe you should be thinking about how to make it right with her when you do figure out where she is.”

“Or maybe if she walked away so easily I’m better off without her.”

“All right,” Beckett pushed to his feet. “Now you’re just being an idiot.” He stood over Tate with more pity than anger. “Because now you’re just questioning my ability to read people. Maybe she’s better off without you. Ever think of that?” He started toward the bedroom. “You know where the extra blankets and pillows are.”

Tate threw his arm across his eyes. “Fuck me.”

16

Olivia felt like hell.

She leaned her head against the wall of the Metro car and closed her eyes. This was going to be one hellish, horrible, very-bad, no-good day. But the sooner she got started, the sooner she could finish. The sooner she finished, the sooner she could go home.

For the first time since she’d moved overseas, the thought of going home brought tears to her eyes. Tears of pain not joy. And, Jesus Christ, who knew a person could shed so many damn tears. She was sick of it.

Thankfully, her stop came up and she focused on the sidewalks, quiet at this hour of the morning, as she made her way through town to the Andrew Mellon Auditorium.

She approached the front glass doors and spied the security guard the coordinator said would be here this morning to unlock the doors for her. Once she was in the kitchen, she settled into the silence and familiarity. Instead of comforting, today it felt hollow.