Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Talia
“Maybe alcohol will help,” Mara suggests. “It’s gotten me through some rough times.”
I sigh softly and sip my unsweet tea. “Trust me, I’d love to get so smashed I don’t even know I’m on an airplane in the morning, but then I’ll end up with the same crushing anxiety and a hangover, too.”
“There’s always meth.” She sips her glass of wine. “Unless you want to keep your teeth?”
She has a way of making my worries feel a little lighter. I’d planned to meet up with her, Suki, and Lainey for drinks tonight, but Suki had to cancel because Charlotte is sick.
“I’m fairly attached to my teeth,” I say lightly.
“Do you ever take gummies?” Lainey asks. “They really take the edge off.”
“I have a stash. What dosage makes you forget you’ve made the worst decision of your life?”
Mara smiles. “I love that you’re going. It’s savage as fuck. What’s something funny or embarrassing about your ex that only you know?”
“Let’s see ... he gets hemorrhoids from sitting on the toilet too long. And he liked being spanked during sex. I don’t know if he still does.”
Mara and Lainey get a good laugh out of that tidbit.
“Elaborate on the spanking,” Mara says.
“When he was drunk, it took five business days for him to come during sex. It was crazy. So when I couldn’t stand the thrusting and grunting any more, I’d spank his ass and call him a naughty boy and he’d immediately get off.”
Mara points at me, her eyes bright with amusement. “Every time you look at him on this trip, I want you to think about that. You’re being saved from a lifetime of spanking a narcissistic man-child.”
Lainey glances at her watch. “Sorry, guys. I have to go. We decided at the last minute to go to Columbus for a few days, and Bash wants to drive there tonight.” She stands up and gets her coat, which is hanging on the back of her chair.
“Don’t leave us hanging, Talia. Keep us updated in the group text. ”
I stand up and hug her. “Have a great break with your husband. Thanks for being such a good friend to me.”
“Right back at you. Have fun with Lucien. You’ll be in Hawaii, how can you not have fun?”
Worry gnaws at my stomach. Why am I doing this to myself? I let my pride make this decision, and the chances of that choice backfiring are very high.
“At least I’ll get lei’d,” I say weakly. “Spelled l-e-i, of course.”
Mara gives me a pointed look. “Sweetie, if you don’t know you and Lucien are going to hook up on this trip, you’re the only one.”
My stomach does another full roll of nervousness. Or maybe it’s excitement? Either way, I do have enough sense left to not dig myself into an even deeper hole.
“Lucien and I are just friends.”
Mara purses her lips and meets Lainey’s gaze. “Isn’t she adorable? We’re going to be shopping for wedding dresses with her by this time next year.”
“Strapless all the way,” Lainey says. “She’s going to be a beautiful bride.”
“Stop!” My face heats as I take cash out of my wallet to leave on the table for my tea. “Men and women can be just friends, you know.”
“Of course they can,” Mara says. “But not you and Lucien. And I’m guessing you won’t have to spank that one to get him off, girl.”
“Lucien’s a great guy,” Lainey says. “Bash told me he’s really close with his sister. When she had cancer, he stepped in and helped a lot.”
My heartstrings don’t just get tugged by learning that. It’s more like a powerful yank. He’s good to his sister, and that says a lot about his character.
No, I’m not going there. Lucien is a hockey player. I’ll take his friendship and his compliments, but I will not get stupid over him. Fool me once and all.
“Speaking of Lucien, I’m supposed to meet up with him to go over our packing lists,” I say, standing up.
“Don’t forget condoms,” Mara says, smirking. “Lots of condoms.”
“And lube,” Lainey adds.
My brows shoot up in surprise. “You look so sweet and innocent, and then you tell me to bring lube on a trip where no sex will be taking place.”
She shrugs. “Lie to us all you want, just don’t lie to yourself. Prep your lady bits and bring lube.”
That fluttering sensation in my stomach returns. Probably just from the mention of having sex. It’s been a long time. Kyle and I hadn’t had sex in months when he broke things off.
“I just want to get through this,” I say. “That’s it. Just survive it without crying in front of Kyle or Audra. Lucien is my emotional support human. Nothing more.”
Lucien’s house is cozy. Even though the massive brick home is near the back of a gated community, almost an hour outside of Cleveland, it’s a lot more comfortable than I expected.
The leather furniture has throw pillows and a chunky throw blanket draped over the back of the couch. A fire crackles in the fireplace, a giant painting of a little cabin with glowing light emanating from the windows during a snowstorm hangs over the mantle.
“Do you have a wife you haven’t mentioned?” I ask as I shed my coat and look around the space.
“Nope. I picked most of this stuff out myself. My sister helped some.” He picks up my coat. “I’ll hang this up for you.”
That’s ... unexpected. Kyle was my first serious boyfriend and he threw his coat wherever when he came inside, then flopped onto his couch to play video games.
“Thanks. Is it just you and your sister? Any other siblings?”
“Just me and Calla. She actually got some great news a couple days ago. She’s a breast cancer survivor. Her first follow-up scan was inconclusive, so she had to go back for more. It was really stressful, but she’s all clear.”
“I’m so glad to hear that.”
He comes back into the large living room, which is open to the modern kitchen with white cabinetry and dark stone counters. “We lost our mom to breast cancer when we were both teenagers, so it was ...” He shakes his head. “I don’t even know how to describe the way I felt when she told me.”
“I can’t imagine. I’m so sorry about your mom.”
Warmth flickers in his eyes as he nods. “Anyway, Calla’s good. Have you eaten? I saved you some lasagna.”
I furrow my brow and follow him to the kitchen area. “I’m good, thanks. You cook, too?”
He turns to face me, folding his arms. His expression is amused. “What do you mean, too?”
I look around. “I wasn’t expecting this.”
“You thought I’d just have two recliners and a big-screen TV?”
“Kind of,” I admit.
“Fully functioning adult here. I don’t cook, though. There’s a chef who preps meals for a bunch of us single guys on the team that we can freeze and eat when we’re home.”
I smile, my shoulders sinking with relief. “Okay, I feel a little bit better about living with my dad and surviving on grilled cheese sandwiches.”
He opens the refrigerator and takes out a glass pitcher of what looks like unsweet tea. “Come on, try this lasagna. It’s fantastic.”
He dishes some of the cheesy, gooey pasta onto a plate and pours us both a glass of tea.
“So you wanted to run something by me when we were at Lucky’s, but you never did.”
I set my fork down, remembering what I wanted to ask him.
“Right. So you know about my job working with physically and mentally disabled people. I was thinking ... what if I put together a thing where some of the guys on the team could play a game of wheelchair hockey against a team of wheelchair users who are also athletes? Maybe I could work with Special Olympics.”
“It’s a great idea. I can’t think of any of the guys who wouldn’t want to do it.”
“Yeah?” I’ve been knocking around the idea for a while now, and I like that he’s on board. “I thought it would be neat to spotlight what it’s like to play hockey as a wheelchair user.”
“We’re probably gonna get smoked.”
I laugh. “Longtime wheelchair users are really good at maneuvering them, so you might.”
“Do you know Briana? She runs the Crush Foundation and I think she’ll be able to help with whatever you need.”
“I guess I should check with the front office first.”
“Tell them the players want to do it.” He gestures at my plate. “Now eat, and I’ll grab my packing list.”
“Thanks for being my emotional support human.”
“Anytime.”
The lasagna is so damn good. I was planning to only eat a couple of bites and then say I’m full, but screw that. It’s delicious. And a nice thing about Lucien and me just being friends is that I don’t have to pretend I like girl dinners. A few crackers and a piece of cheese are not dinner.
Lucien passes me his list and I read it over. He has neat, blocky handwriting.
“I just want to make sure you know I fucking hate Macintire,” he says.
I look up from the paper. “I mean, same? Don’t tell me he got with your sister, too.”
He balks. “I wouldn’t let that fucker within ten feet of Calla. Macintire didn’t just fuck me over; he fucked over our entire team when we were teammates. He doesn’t even deserve to be called anyone’s teammate.”
“What did he do?”
Lucien’s gaze is on my lap, his lips quirking with a smile when his eyes flick up to mine. “Nice to see you back in leggings. I’m gonna need a beer for this conversation.”
He takes a bottled Guinness from his fridge and pops the top off with an opener, taking a long drink. Then he sets the bottle on the counter and leans back against it, crossing his arms.
“We had some concerns about our coach at the time. And when I say we, I mean the top five on the team. Macintire wasn’t in that group, that’s for goddamn sure.
He’s always been second or third string, and he resented our first offensive line.
Thought he was better than them.” He picks up the bottle and takes another drink.
“So anyway, our captain decided we needed to bring the rest of the team in on the conversation about our coach. He was drinking a lot. Had alcohol on his breath at practices and games. We found him passed out in his office more than once. He wasn’t doing his job, and the team was suffering for it.
We had to decide whether we were going to have an intervention and try to force him into rehab, or talk to the GM. ”
“Max Gregory,” I say softly.
Anyone who follows hockey knows what happened to Max Gregory. It was a tragedy.
Lucien nods grimly. “It was a tough situation. We cared about him, of course, but also, our team was playing like shit because our coach was checked out. There was a group text that was for players only, and we discussed it there. Macintire leaked the texts to a reporter.”
My jaw drops. “It was him? I remember when that happened.”
“It ended Hartford’s career. No coach would touch him. And it fucked a lot of other guys over, too.”
I’m stunned. But now that I think about it ...
“Kyle moved up to the first line when Gregory quit.”
Lucien nods. “That’s why he did it. Looking out for number one, like always.
And Gregory died of alcohol poisoning within a week of quitting.
He didn’t deserve that—to have his shit blasted all over the internet, and to know—” He looks away.
“It’s hard for me to talk about it. All of us feel partially responsible for Gregory’s death. ”
I can’t stop myself from walking over and hugging him. He’s rock solid, and he smells amazing, his cologne carrying notes of pine and cedar.
“I’m so sorry.”
He holds me tightly. And when we finally pull apart a few seconds later, I’m not terrified anymore.
“Thank you for coming with me. Fuck him, and fuck Audra. We’re going to have a great time.”
His hand is still on my hip. Friends touch each other’s hips, right?
“Maybe we’ll get to see some fireworks,” he says.
I grin. “If not, we’ll just have to start some.”