After a career-ending fight, ex-professional-hockey-player-turned-Zamboni-driver Chase Cassidy has never looked back at the sport. He's perfectly content cleaning the ice between periods and chatting with fellow staff members, and running a pub outs...
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Spencer
My head is pounding and my stomach aches in the morning. I roll over, my hand flailing to shut the blaring alarm off. When I can't find my phone, I groan and flop onto my back, pressing my palms over my ears. Goddamn Lennon must've moved it. It's his way of enacting petty revenge for picking me up at such a late hour.
For several seconds, I try to ignore the alarm, willing myself to fall asleep again. But it's no use. With another exaggerated groan, I slide off of the bed, easing myself down to my knees. Then I crawl across the floor until I reach the dresser. Grabbing the cord, I wrench my phone down and shut the alarm off. My phone clatters to the floor while I expel another groan, despite the quiet ambience that has settled around me.
Through the open window, I can hear birds chirping and feel the breeze trickling through. The sun is warm on my face, making my sensitive eyes tremble. I squeeze them shut and knock my head against the dresser, wishing last night never happened.
It's happened, though, and I deserve to pay the price. Which means I have to get my shit together.
Just as I'm about to climb to my feet, my phone dings. My posture slouches and I grab my phone, forcing my eyes to look at the bright screen. The text is from Lennon.
LENNON: Did you fall? Do I need to call an ambulance?
SPENCER: 🖕🏻
LENNON: Happy to hear you're okay, sis♥️ Whenever you're ready, there's coffee and pancakes.
That's why I love my brother.
Sighing, I drag my ass to the bathroom, leaving my phone on the dresser. Before stripping out of my pyjamas, I start the shower. I need hot water, steam, and lots of soap to get rid of the memories. Seeing my friends was a party, but the night ended as a shit-show. When I look in the mirror, my hands gripping the edge of the sink, I feel the embarrassment spread through my chest. My hair is sticking up in every direction. The mascara and eyeliner have seeped into the pores beneath my eyes, making me look like a tired raccoon. Lipstick is smudged around the corner of my mouth.
I push myself away from the sink, disgusted with my behaviour. I should not consume too much alcohol. On a normal day, I can utilize my self-control. When the buzz hits, I'll switch to water. Maybe it's the stress of moving. Perhaps my nerves are getting the best of me. Whatever the reason, I didn't listen to the logical voice inside my head.
I kick off my pyjama shorts and peel the baggy T-shirt off. I discard both to the floor. The slate of the walk-in shower is cool against my feet. It causes shivers to cascade down my spine. Tendrils of steam dissipate into the humid air, smelling of floral body wash and earth. Warm water rushes over me like a waterfall, eradicating the chills. I tilt my head back and sigh, a small smile on my lips. With each passing second, the knots fade from my shoulders. A shower is exactly what I need.
