Delayed Offsides Read online

  I felt like my chest caved, like I’d been hit with a bullet, my breath gasping out in quick pants. I twisted, and in an instant my fist came in contact with the metal street sign beside me. That’s why I couldn’t accept that she had been with them. I imagined what happened but the reality was far worse, a painted picture I never considered.

  “That’s what I thought.” She hissed spinning on her heel. “Get your own ride home, ya dumb dick!”

  I had no right to say any of that to her. None.

  It doesn’t matter if people forgive you for things you’ve done or said in the past. It happens at the least opportune times, but they will always remember and when they want to, they throw it back up in your face. Like when you’re fighting and that anger, the anger they claimed was gone comes back with a vengeance.

  Anytime Callie and I would fight, for some reason the resentment I had with her sleeping with my entire team came back but I never verbalized it until now. It wasn’t fair because I myself had probably slept with a good portion of the Blackhawks fan club like she said or any given number of fans who go to the home games.

  I had absolutely no right to treat her like that but the past is tricky. I bet you if my dad showed his face, I’d react the same way.

  No. I’d probably punch that motherfucker.

  I wasn’t sure I wanted to be a dad but like it or not, it was happening. My fears of that got the best of me and I said what I said out of fear. That’s all it was.

  Deep down I had that fear I would turn out just like my dad and no child deserved that. I think in a lot of ways that’s why Patrick is the way he is. He blamed my dad for never having a good role model. But that’s Patrick. He’ll blame anyone but himself.

  That’s not me at all.

  So why did I keep blaming Callie for shit that didn’t matter?

  I was a fucking idiot for sure.

  Probably because it bothered me so much to know that the girl I loved more than anything had been with all my friends. I imagined it too. Anytime I saw them, I pictured them fucking her.

  I don’t know, maybe it was me thinking she’d go back to doing that if the trappings of parenthood and my schedule got to be too much.

  I had no idea what to expect out of our future together. What if the kid was two years old and Callie decided she wanted something different?

  It happened.

  I was at the point where I knew I never wanted another girl. I wanted Callie. What if I slipped up and fucked someone else?

  Now I wasn’t just hurting Callie. My son would ultimately be affected by my actions, too.

  I realized that what I had said to her made no sense at all and that I fucked things up beyond belief, but that seemed to be the only thing I was capable of doing these days.

  Callie Pratt

  Back Check - Rushing back to the defensive zone in response to an opposing team's attack.

  We all have a past that has made us who we are. I don’t think it should play in how we treat others and I like to think I don’t do that. Regurgitating the past was pointless, so why did Leo have to bring up my past? The sting of it still burned.

  I know Leo has had a hard life. He held resentment for his parents that he would never fully admit to anyone. He wasn’t to fault for that but what he said to me, he could go fuck himself for all I cared. You don’t say shit like that to any woman, much less a pregnant woman.

  Ever.

  I ended up taking a taxi back but had him drop me off a few blocks away. Though it was looking like rain was going to start any minute, I needed to clear my head.

  As I walked, that didn’t seem fast enough. I wanted to run far away from everything that was happening right now. It felt so similar to that night with Dave or when I found out that he was the same one who raped my best friend. The same anger and uncomfortable pain resurfaced.

  I just couldn’t shake what Leo had said and the way he said it. I’d never seen him so angry. He looked, well, crazy.

  In no condition to do so, I ran as the black clouds over the city sat low and turned everything dark, just like my life.

  When I got to Trump Towers, the clouds opened up creating blinding sheets of rain that seemed to come in waves hitting me like sharp sting rays.

  I was apparently on a mission as my shoes squeaked through the lobby announcing my presence. Nash, the door man, turned when I got to the elevator. “Are you okay, Ms. Pratt?”

  I smacked the up button before he could with my fist. “I’m fine.”

  When I got upstairs, I poured a glass of chocolate milk and realized I couldn’t stay in that condo. Not after the things he said to me. No way.

  It wasn’t the weather to be out in but I was in it, trying to forget. A warm breeze picked up despite the rain as I walked down street after street, my shoes splashing through puddles. I tried to move as fast as I could but then thought, what’s the rush?

  My pace slowed, my breathing leveled and I was taking in everything around me from the sounds of the city to my heartbeats. I reached the United Center, a place I came frequently at least once a month from October to April since I was a child. My second home.

  I wasn’t watching where I was walking, my eyes on my feet.

  I knew I was in trouble when I saw him lurking around the corner. I eyed his stalking form, my eyes shifting around to any escape route. The general vicinity around the United Center was the ghetto in my opinion. You never venture around alone. Even the players don’t, but without thinking I had put myself in a position I knew I wasn’t getting out of.

  “You shouldn’t be walking around, alone.”

  It wasn’t a statement. It was my only warning and even then, there was a certain amount of dark promise in his words that left my breath hanging in the balance. I somehow knew, at this point, I had ventured past the point of no return.

  Without paying attention, I had walked down W Madison Street, around the back of the arena and was now cornered between a chain link fence and a group of men in the distance with one standing before me, the others back about fifty feet.

  “Go away!” I said backing away, my hands meeting the chain link fence and threading through the links. I thought maybe, if need be, I could climb the fence. But that wouldn’t be easy considering I was carrying a child. My belly would surely get in the way.

  My gaze lingered on my surroundings wanting to know where I was and how I could escape. Buildings, empty cars, a group of men waiting for this kid to get what he came for. All around me was danger I neglected to see for what it was. Maybe an end.

  The kid’s eyebrows went up when I clutched my purse to my chest, his head tipping to the side as he buried his hands in the pockets of his jeans. His face looked innocent, round, child-like, sure he wasn’t even eighteen. “How much money you got?”

  “I don’t have any.” I tried to remember every detail about him from the tattoos on his arms to the lip ring and lost blue eyes that seemed to capture the small sliver of light through the clouds. Even the slightest details like the thickness of his hair when the wind blew.

  “Ah,” he laughed, his body movements indicating an urgency, his hands moved from his pockets to clasp together in front of his face as he blew into them, appearing cold. He looked over my appearance, noticing the brand name clothes. Didn’t matter that I was wearing maternity pants and a zip up hoodie, the material was soft, detailed and probably cost more than anything he’d ever owned. “That’s bullshit.” He raised an eyebrow at me. “Girl like you, she gots money alright.”

  I felt around in the pocket of my sweatshirt with one hand, my heart thudding loudly in my ears. I would have called someone right then, knowing I was in deep, but my phone was in my purse. If I reached for it, he would have taken it from me.

  He reached for my purse. “Let me check.”

  “No!” I leaped back, startled, my skin prickling with the threat of him moving closer.

  “Why?” he replied with sarcasm. “Got something you’re hiding?” He asked to me with
a subtle shake as he grasped my shoulders, his voice was devoid of emotion, for a moment.

  “Fuck you,” I spit, my arms flailing against him, slapping him the face and kneeing him in the balls.

  His eyes assumed the natural reaction to my response. Anger. “You shouldn’t have done that!”

  Panic gripped me and I braced for an act of revenge. He had a hand on my mouth, laughing lightly, trapping my screams, the other wrapped around my thrashing arms trying to control me.

  “Just give me your fucking money.” A menacing hiss of his words caught me by surprise. He reached for my purse, ripping it from my arms and then pushing me back against the fence.

  I needed to do something.

  I caught him abruptly in the jaw with my elbow when I got my left arm loose, only to have him shove me backwards into the fence. I tried to catch myself against the ground with my arms out in front of me, and I did, but what I didn’t expect was the foot that came in contact with my stomach. I had just enough time to twist slightly, my arms wrapping around my belly trying to protect my baby.

  “You fucking bitch!” He hissed, leaning closer as his harsh breath blew over my heated face. My eyes moved slowly down his face taking in his heaving breaths and lack of personal hygiene. When my gaze reached his duct-taped shoes and the worn dirt clad edges of his jeans, they returned to his face.

  Everything happened in slow motion, a moment between conscious and unconscious before I felt the pain. For a moment, my screams of pain, the crack I felt in my ribs meant nothing compared to the ache in my chest at what had just happened.

  I blinked, drops ran from my lashes down my cheeks. My hands went to my stomach in pain. My poor baby. Oh God. This was all my fault. He was going to die and I was responsible for it. I put his little life in danger. Screaming in pain, I curled into myself, my legs sliding over the loose gravel in the alley. I knew no one would hear me. I stretched slightly, very slowly to arch my back in an attempt to sit up. Moisture seeped through my jeans from between my legs and I knew what was happening. I was bleeding. My heart sped, my gut twisted with fear.

  I might lose him. The thought…I couldn’t…my baby. My precious baby.

  I bit my lip, tasting salt and blood. I stayed still, breathing, and then opened my eyes again wanting to be anywhere but here. In this moment when I knew I would either die out here, or he would if I didn’t move, I’m not sure I would survive.

  Keeping a wary eye on the street, I watched the men laughing.

  The thought of Leo and this baby came to my mind, a crashing image that wasn’t easily ignored. I needed him right now.

  The rain pelted my face soaking my shirt and pants, the wet fabric clung to my chest. The steady loud thump of my heart mixed with throbbing sensations in my face. The swelling presenting itself with every blink.

  The kid fled up the street reaching inside my purse for my wallet.

  “Help!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, a gurgled gasp, but it felt like I couldn’t get any air in my lungs. My fists hammered at the ground in both pain and frustration that I couldn’t move, and then the pain hit again, sharp and blinding. Short, quick breaths escaped me, a crackling noise present in each intake.

  I was able to shift my legs, trying to move when I noticed the wetness between them. I was bleeding badly. That was when I realized the severity of this and how much blood I was losing.

  The pain got worse, a sharp stabbing pain radiated through my hips and up my spine. It was felt everywhere and I couldn’t help the scream that left my lips.

  This wasn’t about me any longer. This was about my baby.

  When I closed my eyes, I saw his face, what he would look like with my eyes and Leo’s smile.

  Would I even get a chance to meet him now?

  Leo Orting

  Attacking Zone - The zone where the opponent’s goal is located.

  I walked home from the police station. It did me some good and let me clear my mind. It started pouring on me halfway there leaving me dripping wet as I walked through the lobby and to the elevators.

  When I got inside the condo, I half expected Callie to be there poised to start yelling at me.

  Only she wasn’t.

  I didn’t know what to think of that. I’d kinda prepared myself for her to be there and the verbal beating I would be subjected to. And then we could have sex and I could make her forget her own name for a while. And that she was mad at me in the first place.

  When I walked in, it appeared she had been there but left, even left a half glass of chocolate milk on the counter.

  It was then that I looked around to see if she had left a note. Nothing.

  I even looked around in the bathroom and then the closet to make sure her clothes were still there.

  Flipping on the switches as I went, lights came on one by one revealing she hadn’t packed a bag. Just left.

  Maybe she was with Ami.

  I changed out of my soaked clothes and then went back to the kitchen. Picking up my phone, I typed out the text to her and then waited for a reply, twisting my phone in the palm of my hand like I did a puck when I was nervous or thinking, both of which I was right now.

  Me: Callie with you?

  Ami: No. Evan and I are at dinner.

  Me: K. Let me know if you hear from her. Please.

  Ami: What did you do now?

  Me: Not important. No way did I want to explain that to her. Just let me know if you do.

  Ami: Ok.

  Setting down my phone on the coffee table, I sat down on the couch and stared at the black television.

  And then I started to obsess. Where the fuck could she be? It was ten o’clock. If she wasn’t with Ami, who could she be with?

  With her dad?

  And that pissed me off, too, because then I imagined her sitting there with him as she poured her heart out and he fumed, all the while thinking what a low life piece of shit he always knew I was.

  And her agreeing. Finally. I’ll be honest, I wanted her to hate me for some reason. Probably because I hated myself for the things I’d said to her and the way I’ve acted the last eight months.

  Hours went by.

  With each passing one, it seemed longer.

  After a while, I would throw my phone aside, pissed that she hadn’t bothered to tell me where she was, only to scramble and find it moments later because what if she called?

  Around one, I texted Ami again.

  Me: Have you heard from her? I’ve texted her and called her over and over again. Nothing.

  Ami: No. Let me try calling her and see if she answers for me.

  I waited not so patiently.

  Ami: No answer. We’re coming over.

  They were at my door within a few minutes, still dressed in their clothes from dinner, both wearing the same expression I had. Confusion. But under that, scared.

  “When did you hear from her last?” Ami asked as soon as they walked through the door.

  As they moved into my kitchen, following me, I leaned against the counter with my arms crossed over my chest, my head bowed, “When she called me an asshole…and then fuck you.”

  Ami glared. “Can you think of anywhere she might be?”

  I couldn’t. If she wasn’t with Ami…I had no idea. Well, I did but I didn’t like it. “With her dad?”

  Mase and I both looked at each other. Neither one of us wanted to call Ed.

  Ami groaned, seeming frustrated, she set her phone down on the counter. “Okay, it’s one in the morning. We either go looking for her or call Ed.”

  “Go looking for her.” Mase and I said together.

  See what I mean? Even Mase didn’t want to bother with Ed.

  As we were in the elevator, Mase looked up from his phone. “She’s not with Remy…” And then there was a notable pause as he stared at me, like he wanted to say something else but wasn’t sure how to put it.

  “What? Say something!”

  His brow scrunched. “Sorry…I paused.”

&n
bsp; “That wasn’t a pause, Evan.” I moved over when an older couple got inside the elevator. “It was a moment of fuckin’ silence.”

  Mase’s brow scrunched as he frowned. “She’s not with Jeff.”

  I groaned and rolled my eyes. “She better not be.”

  “How do we track her phone?” Ami asked, looking from Mase to me. “We can do that, right?”

  “Yeah, we should be able to.” Mase glanced down at his phone as we stepped out of the elevator and into the lobby. “I think I know how.”

  Nash, the doorman was there. “Hey, Nasher, you see Callie?” Mase asked, still walking towards the street where his car was brought around, looking over his shoulder back at Nash.

  He nodded. “Yes, sir, she left here about seven.”

  “Did she say where she was headed?”

  “No, sir.”

  Fuck.

  We stepped out the large glass doors and got inside his car.

  As I sat in the backseat, I was starting to freak out. Where the hell could she be?

  With unsteady hands, I pushed my hair from my face, contemplating what we should do. What seemed like the longest hours of my life were nothing compared to when we found her.

  Evan looked up from his phone and then handed it to Ami. “That’s weird. It says she’s at the United Center.”

  Raising my eyebrows slightly at the thought, I considered what he said. “That…doesn’t make any sense.”

  Mase started the car and then pulled out into traffic.

  The ten minute drive to the United Center, my heart was beating so fast I could barely catch my breath let alone stop myself from shaking and push down the lump in my throat. She was upset with me and she was now probably in danger. No one walked around there at night. It was dangerous.

  Already my mind filled with a dozen possibilities of what could have happened to my pregnant girlfriend and why she was at the United Center at nearly two in the morning. I tried to remain calm, think positive but you couldn’t in a moment like that. The thoughts ripped through me until I couldn’t take it any longer.