From Fling to Ring: A Hockey Romance (The San Francisco Aftershocks)

Chapter 42

TYLER

I crosstown in my Escalade, grateful for every red light that slows my progress, because I need all the time I can get to think about what I’m going to say to Lucy. This shit is new to me, this mature approach to relationships. I may be a pro on the ice, but I’m a fucking kindergartener when it comes to relationships.

No lie.

It takes me twenty minutes to park my behemoth vehicle, a stupid choice for a city like San Francisco where parking is more valuable than a two-bedroom apartment. I finally wedge my car into a spot that’s only semi-legal, not giving a shit if I get a parking ticket or not. Small price to pay to make things right with my girl.

That’s right. I said my girl.

I press the buzzer on her building’s front door just as someone’s coming out. Being the opportunist that I am, I dash inside and run up the stairs to her apartment.

I knock lightly. “Lucy? It’s me.”

I hear rustling on the other side, and my heart rate speeds up. It’s the moment of truth. I can either make this right, or royally fuck it up.

But no one comes to the door.

Okay. This isn’t going to be a slam-dunk.

“Lucy, c’mon,” I say, knocking more loudly. “We need to talk.”

More rustling. I hear the footsteps of someone coming to the door, so I lean into the peephole. “I know you’re in there, baby. I have some things to say. Please open up.”

I hear the deadbolt unlatch, and the door finally flies open.

I come face-to-face with some guy I don’t know, and all I can think is how’d she move on so fucking fast?

“Who are you?” he growls.

“Who are you?” I answer.

“I’m subletting here, man. Lucy’s gone.”