The Penalty Box (Vancouver Wolves Hockey #3) - Odette Stone Page 0,51
said.
“They’re doing a good job.”
Chapter 14
MICA
Ryan laced up his skates and asked me casually, “Did Charlie tell you about the doorbell?”
“No. What’s happened?”
“Zoey said the last few nights, someone’s been ringing the doorbell in the middle of the night. When they open the door, no one is there.”
I grabbed my phone, stood up on my skates, and walked across the locker room. I dialed Charlie’s number. I was low-key pissed she hadn’t told me. We had chatted or texted briefly every night, but not once had she mentioned it.
“Mica!” She answered the phone by saying my name.
“Tell me about the doorbell.”
“Who told you?”
“Ryan. Why didn’t you tell me?”
She sighed. “You have enough to worry about.”
“My job is to worry about you. What’s going on?”
“Someone rings the doorbell in the middle of the night. Anywhere between two and three. When we look outside, there is no one there.”
It was crushing me that someone was scaring her and I wasn’t there. “You need to stop opening the door.”
“We stopped.”
“Are you okay?”
She didn’t speak for a moment. “I’m glad Zoey is here. This would be way scarier alone.”
I mentally started to form a list of people I could bribe, pay, or force to stay with Charlie for all my away games this season.
I heard laughter in the background. “Where are you?”
“At home. Zoey and Andrew are cooking an early dinner.”
I gritted my teeth. “Oh yeah?”
“Andrew went to the Fisherman’s Wharf this afternoon and came back with way too much sidestripe shrimp, so he offered to cook for us.”
“That’s nice of him.” My words were the opposite of my less-than-impressed tone.
She sounded breathless. “I thought so.”
“The guy knows you’re married, right?”
“It’s not like that,” she rushed. “He’s just being a friend.”
A long pause hung between us, highlighting the discomfort both of us felt about talking about Andrew. I trusted Charlie. I just didn’t trust Andrew. And the blatant way he was making himself at home, in my life with my wife, didn’t sit well with me.
“Are you and Zoey watching the game tonight?”
“Yes.” She brightened. “Andrew is a hockey fanatic.”
Fucking Andrew. I winced at the ceiling, working to keep my tone measured. “That’s great.”
She started to speak but stopped herself.
“What?” I pushed.
“I hope you don’t get into a fight tonight.”
For the first time since this conversation started, I smiled. “Why’s that?”
“You were bleeding!”
“You worried about me?” I was putting us on dangerous territory talking like this, but I didn’t care.
She huffed. “I don’t like violence.”
Players were standing up, ready to head into pre-game warmup. “I gotta go.”
“Be safe,” she added.
“I’ll call you later.”
After eight long days on the road, I was ready to get home. Usually, away games were a lot of fun, but this trip, I had counted down the days until I got home.
Charlie had offered to come and pick me up, but my flight was coming in after 1:00 a.m., so I told her I’d take a cab.
When my cab pulled up to the house, my heart nearly stopped. The red and blue lights of two cop cars silently flashed in the driveway.
I threw money at the driver. “Put my bags on the driveway.” I sprinted up the driveway.
The front door was open. A police officer tried to hold me back but let me go when I snarled, “This is my house.”
Only when I saw Charlie sitting on the couch did my heart start beating again.
I looked around. Two cops studied the front door. Another cop sat across from Charlie. And fucking Andrew sat beside her with his arm around her shoulders.
She lifted her face to mine, and I saw tears had streaked down her cheeks.
In three strides, I was across the room. She stood up, and I captured her face in my hands, looking her over.
“Are you hurt?”
She shook her head. “I’m okay.”
“What happened?”
Andrew spoke from his seat on my couch, his voice slightly accusatory. “Someone broke in.”
I looked back at Charlie. “What happened?”
She wiped tears from one cheek. “I was getting ready for bed when the alarm went off. I locked myself in the bathroom. The alarm company called the police.”
I looked at Andrew. “What are you doing here?”
He stood up to his full height, which was, to my immense satisfaction, a few inches shorter than me. “I saw the flashing police lights and came over.”
“I’ve got it from here.”
He looked like he wanted to protest, but my fuck off expression stopped him. He placed an overly familiar hand on Charlie’s shoulder and said in a soothing voice, “I’m