We lost Game three. I was pissed. It was like everyone was jet-lagged, even though Seattle was maybe a two-hour flight from Newport Beach. I could not believe it.

Everybody played shitty. I played shitty. Underwood played shitty. Ryan played shitty. The only guy who maybe played decent was Negan but Negan always played hard. It was part of his work ethic. Some of these guys gave up too soon. When the first goal slipped through Thorpe’s five-hole - a complete fluke and something that rarely happened - we thought we could bounce back.

But it was one of those games where we missed the majority of our shots by a hair. Where the calls could have gone either way and they seemed to go against us. Where we hit the fucking crossbar four goddamn times - twice in one period. Where we actually tied the game with forty-two seconds left in the third period but it was waived off because Seattle decided to challenge it, claiming Underwood was offsides, and apparently, the situation room in Toronto felt the same way.

By the time I got back to the hotel room, I was exhausted. All I wanted was to hear Chloe’s voice, to distract me from my frustration and self-pity, for her to let me know she was okay.

Except, when I called, it went straight to voicemail. And I noticed she never shot me a text after she got home from work which was something we talked about. Chloe was clumsy, sure, but she wasn’t forgetful. If she told me she was going to contact me, I believed her. The only thing that might stop her was if something happened to her.

I felt my heart pump against my chest harder. Faster. I tried to calm myself down. I counted backwards.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Dean asked me, lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, his arms behind his head.

I shot him a look that warned him not to fuck with me right now. To be honest, I was surprised he was even here rather than some bar, trying to pick up some girl and take her back to her place. It could have to do with the fact that we played horribly and it was difficult to get excited over everyone’s shit play, especially since if Seattle won the next two games, we were out. And we had come so far, no one wanted to be fucking out just yet.

“You’re pacing like a fucking lunatic.” He glanced up at me and I could see a flash of concern in his crisp, blue eyes. “Everything okay?”

It was odd to hear those words come out of Morgan’s mouth because Morgan was not a sentimental guy. There were rumors when he was younger, he had this whirlwind relationship with a girl who was ten years younger than he was and he had to leave her because he signed with Florida. The relationship was still new so it wasn’t as though he felt comfortable asking her to move to Florida with him but he hadn’t been the same since then - at least not when it came to women. I didn’t think he had any sort of stable relationship, which he didn’t seem to have any problem with. And now that he was back here, I wasn’t sure if he had attempted to look her up or if he thought it was better to stay away. Who knew if he still had any fucking feelings left for her or if she was the love of his life who managed to get away. Only Morgan could know that. 

Quite frankly, Morgan’s love life was not any of my business just like my love life wasn’t any of his. However, he seemed genuinely interested in my wellbeing, which wasn’t all that surprising. Morgan was an asshole but he was loyal to a fault.

“I just...” I said and shook my head. I wasn’t comfortable sharing, at least, not yet. “I’m pissed about what happened tonight.”

“Bullshit.”

I snapped my head in Morgan’s direction, my eyes filled with surprise. Morgan looked at me with blue eyes; he had this look about him that was both indifferent and knowing at the same time. Like he didn’t care but he knew what was going on in my head.

It was some eerie shit, if I was being honest, but there was some good to it. I didn’t have to communicate too much if he could see it. Then again, I didn’t like him calling me on shit I’d rather not have anyone know about either.

“This is some straight female problem.” He sat up in bed, suddenly intrigued. “Tell me.”

“Tell you what?” I asked. I had no problem giving him attitude, especially when he was being a pain in my fucking ass.

“Fucking tell me what your problem is,” he said. “I know you’ve gotten yourself a girl. That shit spreads like fucking wildfire. You know that. But there’s more to it. To be honest, I thought you were just fucking her. But it’s more than that, isn’t it? You actually fucking like her.”

I wanted to deny it but that would be a lie. And juvenile. Instead, I curled my fingers into fists and stared at him. Morgan was a smart guy; I hoped he would be able to read my face and know he better walk a thin line before he opened his fucking mouth.

“Jesus, man.” Morgan let out a slow breath. “You fucking know better than to pull that kind of shit. You can fuck with a girl all you want, just don’t fall for one.” He placed his hands over his face and stared up at the ceiling.

His words probably would have pissed me off if I didn’t see the pain in his eyes. It wasn’t like I could read that shit, or that I went looking for it, or anything like that. But Morgan was typically a closed-off guy. I didn’t know if he realized he had his walls down or if he was doing it on purpose so I could see what he had gone through and what he experienced.

Not that that would, in any way, change my opinion about Chloe. Just because Morgan had a bad fucking experience with love didn’t mean I would. He just hadn’t found the right person yet. Or maybe he had and the fucker let her go.

That was his issue to deal with, not mine.

“I thought you understood that,” he continued, dropping his hands and looking back at me. “These younger guys don’t realize –“

“I think you don’t realize,” I said, cutting him off, “that it’s not all about dicks and pussies. You think fucking is going to keep you warm at night when you’re in your fifties? Sixties?” I looked away. I didn’t like where this conversation was going. It made me uncomfortable. I wasn’t the type of person to stand up for relationships. I could give a shit about them. But something inside of me made me want to defend my fake relationship with Chloe.

Except, I didn’t think it was completely fake. Not anymore. Not when it was obvious that feelings were involved now.

“I like this woman,” I told him. It was the first time I said the words out loud. Even to my own ears, they sounded different. Foreign, almost. But I didn’t take it back. I couldn’t, even if I wanted to. “And yeah, she has a shit-ton of baggage. But she’s gone through a lot and I’m worried about her. That’s my fucking problem, okay?”

Morgan was silent for a minute. I wasn’t sure how I felt about his silence, considering his hands were over his chest, his fingers locked together, and he stared at me with his intense gaze that seemed to see through all the bullshit.

“When you say baggage, do you mean kids?” he asked finally.

I rolled my eyes and shook my head, throwing my hand out as though I wanted to dismiss this entire conversation because this asshole couldn’t take it seriously. It was my fault, too, for trusting him with this shit anyway.

“Okay, Art, okay.” Morgan sat up and stared straight at me. “I don’t know how to handle feelings. When I was younger, like twenty-nine, I did the dumbest thing I have ever done in my life, and there’s not a day that goes by where I don’t fucking regret it. When I see fuckers like Underwood, Ryan, hell – even Xander fucking Vane has a damn girlfriend – I dismiss that shit because I’m pissed that they’re not as stupid as I was. And I know, that makes me a huge prick. I get it but…” He trailed off, shaking his head.

“What did you do?” I finally asked.

Morgan looked like he wasn’t going to say anything. I couldn’t fucking blame him. These feelings and shit were already making it hard on having a legitimate conversation with him because I didn’t know how to communicate with him. I didn’t know how to communicate at all. I was sure he felt the same way. He probably didn’t have anyone to talk to about this, just like I sure as shit didn’t have anyone to talk to about this. It would have just been easier to ignore these feelings. It would have just been easier to pretend they didn’t exist, that these feelings didn’t actually matter.

But I couldn’t do that. Not when Chloe occupied my thoughts constantly. Not when I felt myself reaching for the phone, looking for any excuse to hear her voice.

I had never felt this way before. I had no idea what to do with myself.

“I let her go,” he finally said. I couldn’t describe the tone of his voice if I wanted to. “I was going back to Florida. We had met that summer. And I let her go.” He shook his head, pressing his lips tightly together. “She was so fucking young, man. I didn’t know if I was doing the right thing. I didn’t know anything. I was a fucking moron. All I knew at the time was that I didn’t want to let her go. I wanted to have her come to Florida with me because I couldn’t fucking get enough of her. It was one of those crazy love stories you read about in books or you see on fucking television. I know it’s cheesy, but it’s the truth.”

“I believe you,” I told him. I wasn’t sure why but I thought it was important that he knew that.

“I fuck other girls to forget about her,” he continued. I hadn’t expected him to get so deep though I did appreciate it. It felt good, knowing someone else was going through the same stuff I was going through. “I can’t stomach being with anyone else if I’m not with her. It doesn’t work like that with me. Why even try, when I already had the best and lost it?”

“You’re back here,” I pointed out, my voice wary. I wanted to make sure I wasn’t overstepping my bounds, that I was still minding my place. “You’re back in California. Can you reach out to her?”

“And say what?” he asked. “You going to call your girl? If she’s your girl, why even hesitate?”

He was getting defensive. Even though it made me bristle, I understood why he was getting that way.

“She’s not really my girl,” I said. I didn’t know why I trusted him with that piece of information. I wasn’t sure how he would respond, or even how to explain it. Now that I opened my mouth, there was nothing I could fucking do about it. So I told him everything.

And surprisingly enough, he listened. He didn’t make faces, he didn’t make his wiseass comments. He just listened. And I didn’t realize how much I needed someone just to listen to me until he did.

When I finally finished, I stopped my pacing and finally turned to look at him. He had his head tilted to the side and his brows were furrowed over his eyes.

“Sounds like you got involved in some shit,” he said. “If you want my advice, I really have nothing to tell you. The only thing you need to know is if she’s worth it. Whether you guys are really fucking or not, is she worth all the shit you’re going through?”

“Of course she is,” I snapped.

Fuck, now I was getting defensive.

Morgan’s lips curled into a smirk. “Then all this shit isn’t fake,” he said. “And all this shit is worth it. Do something about it. Don’t be like me and let her slip through your fingers.”

Fuck Morgan and his good advice bullshit.

It was fucking hard for me to sleep that night.