Pining: Forgiveness Ch. 16

This was why I didn't want a girlfriend. They wanted things from you. True, I wanted things from them too. But while a woman could satisfy me, I could never give her enough. She always wanted more. Case and point: I'd agreed to go to Salene's wedding. Now she wanted me to go to a dress fitting. I had been planning to take an ice bath. Not that ice baths were fun, but I'd taken a pummeling on Saturday and then again in practice this morning. My torso was one big bruise.

But I owed this girl. Bigtime. And not just because I'm pretty sure I just passed my statistics test for the first time. I wanted to spend time with McKenzie. Fuck it. I guess I'm just going to be black and blue.

I run a hand through my hair. "My car's at my place."

"Sweet. Which one was your ride? The Camaro? The Raptor?"

The question takes me by surprise. I sometimes forget that Kenzie doesn't know everything about my life. That she hadn't been there when I got my license—when I bought my car. I sigh because I think she was kind of excited about the sports car and muscle truck. "The Pathfinder."

"Oh, well—" She sounds disappointed. She looks disappointed. Her voice perks up. "—more room for Ash then."

"Ash is coming?" I'd been hoping for a little more of me and Kenzie time—alone. We'd spent time together Friday, Saturday and Sunday and I was already addicted—which alarmed me. I needed to fill up my McKenzie deficit from the past six years. Withdrawals had been murder, but it had helped me focus on hockey. Ash smirked up at me like she knew exactly what I had been thinking. I don't know how I ever fell for her. Actually, I do. Because Ashley is like wow, but she's not my BFF. She's not Kenzie.

"Of course." McKenzie gazes at me with this flat expression. "I need someone who will tell me the truth when I ask, 'does this dress makes my butt look fat.'"

My gaze falls to her ass. Her jeans look like they are painted on. Her ass does not look fat. It looks bite worthy. I remember how it looked Friday when she'd bent over in those Britney Spears Jeans. My eyes might've glazed over. McKenzie's cheeks turn pink when she realizes where my attention has gone. She glances everywhere but at me.

"I deserved that," she mutters and rapidly retreats towards the exit. I can hear the embarrassment in her voice. "But you could've controlled yourself." I smile at her backside. Ashley flips me off, because, yup, I deserved that.

The three of us walk back to my place chatting about random shit—classes, homework, projects, hockey. We talk a lot about hockey—McKenzie more than me. Apparently she still adores the game. Impressing her might've been why I started playing in the first place. She wants to be a sports analyst at a broadcast station, or better yet, a team. She could do anything—NFL, NBA, NWSL, VNL but, like me, NHL is her dream. I invite her to one of my games, but she's already got season tickets. I ask her if she's got my jersey. She says, "In your dreams."

It is now. Fuck, Kenzie in my jersey would be like—well better than sex—except maybe, it'd lead to sex, and that'd be better yet. I'd get home from my game and she'd be lingering on my bed in nothing but my jersey. Lingering. Am I right? Hottest lingerie ever. Fuck, I don't know how I got there. I sure the hell hope she can't see into my brain. I don't need McKenzie knowing this shit. I just barely got her smiling at me again.

My car is blocked when we reach my place. I go in to get the boys to help me shuffle the deck. Roman catches me at the door of Lucas's Jeep. He's already moved his Raptor.

"Who's that?" he says, nudging me. He nods his head towards McKenzie and Ash. He knows Kenzie so he can't be asking about her.

"Ashley."

Roman leans up against the door of Lucas's Jeep, preventing me from opening it. "Anything going on between the two of you? You're all about KZ, right?"

I let out a lead laden sigh. "Not anymore."

He quirks a brow at me.

"She's the reason Kenzie wasn't talking to me."

Roman deadpans. "Tell me more."

"Not much to tell. Kenzie was my BFF—like since we were four. Freshman year of high school, I dated Ash. Ash got jealous. I did something so fucking stupid I deserve to be recorded as the biggest idiot ever in the Guinness Book of World Records. McKenzie's family moved away and I never got to say I'm sorry. Now six fucking years later they're besties."

Roman's gaze slid off Ashley and landed on me. He gave me a flat stare. "You didn't get to say you're sorry?"

"How could I? Her whole family moved away, I didn't even know where."

Roman pulls out his phone and I scratch my nose with my middle finger because of course I tried to call her but he doesn't say anything. Instead he opens Facebook. He pulls up a profile and, what the fuck, I shoot a furious glance between him and Kenzie. "Not even private," he says. "And look at that, is that Heceta Head lighthouse? Oh wait, yeah, she says it is in the description. That's right outside of Florence, isn't it? And Sea Lion Caves, that's like there too. Look at this, Moe's Dinner. Man, I've been there. They serve the best clam chowder. Fuck me, look at her on that board. KZ looks hot in that wetsuit, don't you think? Siuslaw High School? Bet you ten bucks that's in Florence."

I want to Goddamn punch Roman, but I don't, because he's right. He ignores the rage that must be vibrating from every line of my body. He does something with his phone and turns it to face me once more. "Look at this, she's on Twitter—I mean, X. I wonder if she's on Snapchat. Shit, she is. Nothing recent though. Look at this throwback Thursday." McKenzie's on her snowboard, and, fuck, her girls dared her to do the course without any pants. Is that a bathing suit or panties? "Man, I wonder if she got banned from Willamette Pass." I try to rip the phone from his hand but he anticipates my move. The girls are watching us now and I sure the fuck don't want McKenzie wandering over here so I knock Roman aside and rip the door of the Jeep open. I fire up the Wrangler but I'm not fast enough. Roman climbs in behind me. He leans over my seat's backrest and shoves his phone in my face.

"Here's a damning profile." The platform is CPUbytes, Cascade Pines University's own social media site. "She's at a game, wearing a jersey. I wonder who number sixty-nine is?" I go harder than the basalt pinnacle atop Mt. Thielsen. I stare because I want to brand that image on my brain but he scrolls away. "I mean, his name is right there, Kimball, on her shirt. Is there a Kimball on the team? Do you know a Kimball?"

"Okay, you've made your point," I growl. He has. I had multiple ways to contact McKenzie but I never thought to try. My chest compresses and I cringe inside. Maybe I was too ashamed to try. But, apparently, Roman can't help but heap more crap on my head.

"Is that the Sin Bin? It is. I recognize the bar—and our team. Oh, look, there's number sixty-nine." He scrolls through a whole lot of pictures. Many are of her and Ash or her sorority sisters but there's enough pics at the Sin Bin, victory parties or the arena that I know she's been hanging around the team. Roman stops his scrolling. I slam on the brakes. The whole Jeep rocks.

It's a picture of McKenzie. There's a fuck ton of snow on the ground. The picture is dated last February. She's at the bonfire glade. There're tears streaming down her face. My jersey is going up in a cloud of inky black smoke.

McKenzie had been ready to forgive me as recently as last Valentines. I think I might sick up.

I have force myself to get moving again. When I finally get my beat up Pathfinder out from behind the other cars, Ash insisted that McKenzie take shotgun. Even though she's been sitting beside me, talking to me, tutoring me, she doesn't seem to want to. She's no longer radiating her earlier joy and I think she may know Roman and I have been talking about her. Of course, maybe I'm just projecting, because looking at her is just a reminder of how shitty I've been to her. I was never McKenzie's BFF. I was her asshole.

I crank my SUV's old fashioned, keyed ignition as Ashley climbs in the back seat. I can't pull out though. Roman grabs her door before she can shut it.

"Move over."

"Why?" I can hear the question mark in Ashley's voice. I glance over my shoulder in time to see Roman roll his eyes.

"Because I'm going with you."

"Again, why?"

"I want to make a beer run."

"We're going to a dress fitting, dumbass. We'll be there for like an hour or more."

"Thus the beer."

"There's a perfectly good door over there." Ashley points to the rear, driver's side door.

"I'd rather sit behind KZ. More leg room. The air doesn't smell like Collin's tail pipe."

Ash undoes her seatbelt and slides. "Dick much?"

Roman climbs into the space she vacates. "Sit in my lap and find out."

"Ohmigod, perv alert." I'd agree with Ash but, I don't know how, somehow Roman gets away with that shit. Far too many chicks sit on his dick.

"So what are you going to do," Ash says. "Drink beer. Ogle McKenzie. I don't think your Captain will like that."

"Ashley!" Kenzie screeches. My fingers band about the steering wheel so tight they turn white.

"Nope. KZs safe." She'd better be or, friend or not, Roman's a dead man.

Roman leans back and stretches his arm along the backrest. I'm looking in the mirror so I see Ashley vibrate but she doesn't lean away. Roman smirks. "I plan to ogle you."

Ash turns pink but the snap in her voice does not dull. "It's not my fitting."

"There'll be other dresses. You should try some on. Something sparkly. Maybe black. A body con. And short." He pauses a moment. "Fuck, I bet you rock an LBD." Ash no longer does it for me but I agree—Ashley would be fire in a little black dress. Roman's eyes glaze over. "Please, God, let the zipper get stuck."

A glower on her face, Ashley crosses her arms and this time she does lean away. Roman captures a golden curl and runs it through his fingers. Rather than ripping her locks out of his hand, Ash pretends not to notice. She huffs and the back seat falls silent. Roman leans back, the picture of conceited cockiness. About every third time I check the mirror, Ashley's giving him the side eye. I swear, in the encyclopedia, under the heading irate woman there's a picture of her. I wonder if I should say something. I don't give a fuck if I'd be throwing Roman off his game, but my gut says my interference wouldn't be welcomed...by Ash.

We arrive at Special Day Lace. Ashley tumbles out of the car before I've turned the engine off. Roman follows more slowly but McKenzie stays put.

"Is everything okay?" I don't know if she's going to answer. After what Roman showed me, I'm not even sure why she's even deigned to speak with me these past few days. Her, "Go thefuck away, asshole," makes more sense than ever.

Kenzie leans her cheek up against the passenger side window. "I feel sick." Her voice is small. She does look kind of pale.

"Can I do something for you? Take you home? I can run down to the drug store. Get you a ginger ale?"

She looks at me, her eyes round. "Not that kind of sick." Her gaze drops to her lap. "I don't want to see him."

"Luke?" I ask.

McKenzie nods.

I glance around the parking lot. I don't recognize any of the other vehicles. "Is his car here?"

She shakes her head and then, hand trembling, she lets herself out. Ash and Roman are already inside. On the other side of the picture window he's holding up some body contouring red number and she's telling him off. I can tell. Her posture screams it.

He doesn't have a beer.

We didn't stop.

He didn't ask.

I think he's drunk—on her. At least he should be entertaining. Maybe he and Ashley would distract McKenzie from her fears.

Inside, McKenzie checks in with the seamstress. I hesitate but Kenzie asks me to come back with her. Ashley and Roman follow on our heels snipping at each other. I try not to fidget while McKenzie is in the changing room. I have zero desire to disrespect her, but, my God, the room has one of those like half door things and I can see her feet, the top of her head and sometimes her hands and the shadow cast while she strips. My dick hurts worse than when I walked into Sisters Exposed and she was on-stage. The door opens and I lose the ability to breathe.

I don't know what to call it. I suppose it's an evening dress. The skirt is floor length and pleated. The bodice reminds me of a silk toga except there's like this cloth collar looped around McKenzie's neck preventing everything from slipping off her shoulder. She does a slow turn and my heart stutters. Her back is completely bare. She can't be wearing a bra, or she's wearing an invisible one, because there are no straps. There's just this one strip of material, twisted into a rope, looped from her shoulder to her waist where it ends in a bow. The whole thing is lavender and when she turns back towards us the green in her questioning eyes just—pops.

"Ohmigod, McKenzie." Ash rushes forward to hug McKenzie. When she steps back to let the seamstress work she says, "You're so beautiful."

Beautiful doesn't say the half of it. My BFF, the girl whose heart I shredded, is the most stunning woman to have ever walked this Earth. Kenzie's gaze seeks mine, questioning.

"Nice," I croak. I can barely get the word out. Out front a bell rings. I hear voices but I can't make out the conversation.

Roman shoots me a glance that tells me that he thinks I've lost my mind. I probably have. "You're glorious, KZ."

Ashley cocks her head at him. Her expression goes soft.

"Now if your friend here would just try on that backless mini dress I saw—"

"Ro, stop it. Just stop it." Ashley's mezzo soprano sounds strained. "You're worse than a Chihuahua."

Roman turns to me. "I'm more a Doberman than a Chihuahua, don't you think?"

"Ugh!" Ashley throws up her hands and stomps away. "I don't care what type of dog you are, you're sniffing at my butt and I don't like it."

"Well, shit. I didn't mean to piss her off." He actually looks put out as she stomps from the room. McKenzie fidgets like she wants to run after Ashley but the seamstress is busy with the hem of her dress and she's stuck.

"Well, you did, dumbass." I was glad I wasn't the only one. I wondered if dumbassery was a contagious disease only contractible by the males of a species.

Ashley comes hurrying back, concern written scross her face. "McKenzie..." Her voice is a squeak. There's fear in her tone and I know what's coming—Luke.

Roman and I turn. We're a team. Shoulder to shoulder we make a wall. Luke comes around the corner, a tux-bag in hand.

"McKenzie, we need to talk." he says so loud the extremely tolerant seamstress jumps. I half expect her to scurry away like a mouse. "My family—your family—is expecting you to be on my arm. I can't be seen with a slut. You need to cancel your cam show!"

Cam show? As in cam girl porn? Like one of those internet rooms where a girl gives the audience control of a vibrator through the use of a tip taking app so that they can pay for the privilege of participating in her pleasure? Yes, she stripped. I still see her bare-assed naked every time I close my eyes. Still, I would've never guessed McKenzie to be a cam girl had we played a hundred-and-twenty questions.

But the way she's looking at me. The way she's twisting her hands. The mortification I see on her face. McKenzie didn't want me knowing this. She didn't want anyone knowing this.

Which means it's true. But that doesn't matter. I'm here for McKenzie.

I step between Kenzie and Luke. "This is a private fitting," I growl. I try to keep things civil. I try not to make fists of my hands. I fail and my biceps tense. Roman puts a hand on Luke's chest preventing him from moving any closer. That's good. I need that. Because if I touched him I'm not sure I wouldn't kill the fucker.

"Let me past," Luke snaps at Ro. "She's my girlfriend." He points at McKenize and I want to take his finger and break it.

I step up in Luke's face. "Not anymore." My words are a mastiff bark. I'm trembling with the effort to keep from punching him.

"What Cap said," Roman adds with dramatically less fire in his voice.

"She's a slut! —" A sobbed gasp, in Kenzie's voice, sounds from behind me. "—that's McKenzie, she's a fucking slut! She needs to close that room forever and apologize to me now!"

Fuck that. Roman and I are a team. We toss him outside and bar the door. I don't think the seamstress wants to see any of us ever again.