The Hockey Star’s Remorse

Chapter 2

Evie

The night went on and I continued setting tables for a private event set for this evening. It was a nice little break from the constant stream of guests that would come through.

It was hard to tune out the highlight reels of the Thunderbolts Captain being the leading scorer in the league and becoming the rookie of the year.

How some people manage to become that successful amazes me. He must be the city’s favorite little hockey star.

I hummed quietly to myself as I moved around the dining room.

“Waitress,” a woman’s shrill voice squawked. “Waitress!”

My head snaps up at the signal. “I’m so sorry, mam,” I apologize carefully. “What can I do for you?”

“Well, for starters, why don’t you actually serve me,” she scolds. “I have been sitting here for ten minutes trying to get your attention!”

I looked around. My eyes were starting to turn towards where I stood.

“Absolutely, mam,” I stammer. “What can I get you?”

“I need a drink, but everyone in here seems to be too distracted by the craziness outside,” she says with a huff.

I looked down at her glass. “What kind of wine would you like?”

“Your most expensive bottle. Make it snappy,” she orders sharply.

“Anything else?”

have a super important guest coming. Bring two

smile. “I’ll be right back with your

this

out to the table. The woman watched me with cold eyes as I popped open

“Anything—“

red wine over my face shut me

she laughed smugly. “That’s for being incompetent and ruining

that’s enough,” a male voice said angrily, coming beside me. “Are you not embarrassed by treating another

your win,” Stella pouted innocently. “We

froze – He is

again lost any and all ability to speak.

smirked. “I’d go get yourself cleaned, sweetie, before that stains.”

the torment of high school. It was brutal how some kids were just able to rip into their

to calm myself down and I stepped back onto the floor.

after learning about my run in, and the rest of my shift went fairly smoothly. At least I made good tips tonight. Maybe it was the pity of the entire restaurant that filled my pockets. They all

grab my bag, throwing it tiredly over my shoulder. Without

the street in some crazy expensive

“Wait!”

of that crazy sports car, sat the

with those hazel eyes of his and his chestnut hair. His face, though still youthful, had matured in all the best ways. His cheeks were toned and his jaw sharp and peppered with stubble.

get

Sinclair, are

picked up the

on a minute,” he shouts quickly. “I know you. I swear

him

at least give you a ride,” he offered

on the sidewalk, snapping it from beneath me. Stumbling forward, I hear a car door open

get

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