Hayes (A Carolina Cyclones Story)

45

Maggie

"Surprised Hansen let you out of his sight."

Jax's voice is rough and slightly teasing as he turns on his barstool to face me better, lifting an amber colored drink to his lips.

The bar is loud and the lighting is dim but I doubt it's dark enough to hide the fact that I've obviously been crying as I turn my face to look at him.

"Oh shit." He says, simply. Quickly dropping his drink back down onto the wooden bar counter. "Everything okay?"

A sarcastic laugh breaks free of me and I watch as Jax's eyes widen in suspicion.

"That doesn't sound good." He turns back to the bar and raises his hand to get the bartender's attention. "Another round for me and the lady, please."

Drinking with Jax probably isn't the smartest decision I've ever made but I'm sad and hurt and it one hundred percent beats drinking alone.

"So...trouble in paradise then?"

Breathing out a sigh I nod. I grab the glass in front of me and down the drink in one go, signaling to the bartender for one more. Another sign of my current fantastic decision making, but the faster I drink myself numb the faster I can retreat to my hotel room and sleep today off.

"I don't really want to talk about it." I admit after a few beats of silence when he still stares at me expectantly.

He nods in understanding and takes another swig of his drink. "Anything you would want to talk about?

My eyes narrow slightly. I'm a bit surprised by his persistence. But then again, this is Jax Faulkner we're talking about, and I'm the sad, lonely girl at the bar.

"Let's talk about you." I say, interested to see if the sudden shift of focus to him will deter him but he only chuckles under his breath before he gives a reply.

"Me?"

"Yeah you."

"And what about me?"

"Why are you sitting here alone in the bar? Shouldn't you be off commiserating with your teammates somewhere?"

He harrumphs and finishes off his glass, turning it in his hands before bringing his eyes, a stunning shade of green I've never seen before, back to me.

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly the most popular guy on the team right now."

"And why is that?" I ask, genuinely curious and egged on by the alcohol that's seeping into my bloodstream.

He snorts. "Can I plead the fifth?"

"How about this, I won't press you on your problems if you don't press me on mine."

Fresh drinks have again been dropped off in front of us and he lifts his as I grab mine, lifting his slightly he mumbles, "I'll drink to that," and we let our glasses clink.

The next hour or so follows in companionable silence only occasionally broken by off handed comments about the game highlights being shown on the television behind the bar or about the people who mingle around. At some point I glance down at my phone, a pang of sadness hitting as the homescreen photo of me and Hayes stares back at me, and realize how late it's gotten.

"Fuck, I should get to bed." I say, but I'm a little thrown off by how slurred my words sound to my own ears. I throw down enough cash to cover my tab and go to stand from my barstool but stumble, reaching forward quickly to steady myself.