Chapter 16
Zoe
“You kissed him?” Jada’s mouth gaped open. “And on the first date?!”
I frowned at her. “Why is that such a surprise?”
She only gave me a look in return, and even I knew that it was a stupid question.
Given my track record when it came to dating, it was a miracle if I let a guy kiss me by the third date.
That is if they even made it to a third date.
I’d dodged my fair share of kisses, but that had been the furthest thing from my mind last night.
It had already been the best date I’d ever been on—past relationships included—with easy conversation and banter.
Hell, if the waiter hadn’t been burning holes into the sides of our heads, we could have easily shut the place down.
So when I stood at his height and those golden eyes of his were looking at me like that, every rule I had for first dates went out the window.
“Judging from that moony look on your face right now, I’m going to take it that he’s a good kisser.”
“Good doesn’t even begin to cover it.”
It hadn’t even been that long of a kiss, but I had replayed it in my mind so many times before I fell asleep, that I dreamt of us kissing.
Jada smirked at me from across the kitchen, having abandoned decorating the bridal shower cookies on the counter behind her. No, all of her attention was locked on me.
“Have you planned a second date?”
“I mean, he asked me on a second date, but we didn’t say when or where.”
I still hadn’t really wrapped my mind around the first. Good things didn’t usually happen to me, and this was definitely a good thing. But screw not looking a gift horse in the mouth; life had burned me far too many times for me to blindly accept the possibility of something between me and Miah.
My phone buzzed on the far table where we packaged outgoing orders, and I leapt across the room to grab it. Maybe Miah’s ears were burning and he was texting to plan something. My stomach did a flip-flop of excitement, but then I tapped my screen and it plummeted.
Jada stepped up beside me. “What is it?”
I swallowed thickly, my mouth suddenly dry. I read over the text again. It’s been forever! Understatement of the century.
“Carter is going to be in town and wants to catch up.” My voice didn’t even sound like mine.
“Carter? As in Leslie Carter? Your old teammate?”
I winced before nodding.
Carter and I had played hockey together in college. In fact, we’d been on the same line our last year before we were both drafted for different teams in the PWHL. She was now in her tenth year in the league, and the reminder that I could have been right there with her was a stab to the heart.
When I had my accident, she had tried to be supportive—even when she moved to Minnesota and started training camp with the Vortex—but I never responded to any of her texts or calls. Eventually they stopped.
I’d been so furious about my dreams slipping out of my fingers that I couldn’t be happy for my friend. Every text was just a bitter reminder that she was living the life I wanted. The life I had worked so hard for, only to have it ripped away from me at the last second. Just when I could taste it.
Guilt shot through me like electricity as I read her text again. Even after shutting her out and ignoring her for ten years, she was still trying to be my friend, and I didn’t deserve it.
“Are you going to meet up with her?” Jada asked softly, as if speaking to a mountain lion poised for attack.
And maybe that’s what she thought I’d do; snap at her just like I had all those years ago when she’d encouraged me to let people help.
I’d used whatever means necessary to push everyone away, whether it be silence or harsh words that cut deep.
I’d been successful for the most part, but Jada had taken the blows without blinking an eye and continued to show up and show me love.
I don’t think I would have survived that dark period of my life had it not been for her, Uncle Cal, and Aunt Peg.
I pursed my lips, my thumb picking at the rubber of my phone case. “Maybe. I mean… she’ll be busy with morning practice and the game, so it’d just be a short meet up, right?”
We both knew I wasn’t really asking her.
I was just trying to logic it out with myself and find a way to lessen the guilt of dropping one of my closest friends while also protecting my own mental health.
I’d never recover completely from my accident, but I didn’t need to purposefully cause myself to regress.
A shiver slid down my spine at the mere idea of falling back into that darkness.
My phone buzzed again, and my heart rate spiked as I glanced down to read the new text.
And then there it was; a small, but strong light guiding me away from the dark shadows creeping around my ankles.
“Jeremiah?” Jada guessed.
I didn’t even look at her. The corner of my lips curving up just a touch was more than enough of an answer for her.
She wrapped her arm around me and gave me a small, affectionate squeeze. “He looks good on you, Zo,” she murmured. My cheeks flushed. “Keep him.”
Excusing myself, I went to the office for some privacy while Jada returned to the cookies.
The dial tone made me feel like I was back in middle school calling my crush on the landline.
Now I was a thirty-two-year-old woman calling her crush and still feeling just as ridiculously giddy about it.
Thankfully, it only rang a handful of times before Miah answered, and then his warm, deep voice had me melting back against Jada’s desk.
“Hey.” The smile was clear in his voice, and I could perfectly picture that crooked grin of his.
“Hi.”
“So what’s this solution of yours? I’d really like to stop getting side eyes from my daughter if at all possible.”
“How would she feel about going to the Minnesota Vortex game when they play here in Denver next month?”
Going by myself to the game was unfathomable. It’d be an absolute miracle if I even made it into the arena. However, the arduous task of facing my demons head-on seemed a bit more manageable with Miah and Charlie by my side.
“She would lose her mind. It’s her dream to see a PWHL game in person, but we’ve never been able to make it to one.”
This was definitely happening, then. I would never allow myself to disappoint Charlie, even if it meant making a sacrifice of my own. Hopefully her excitement would be a distraction from my feelings of grief and jealousy.
“I’ll ask for three tickets, then.”
“She already loves you so much. After this you’re going to be a goddamn superhero to her.”
My cheeks flushed, and I was glad he wasn’t there to see how pink I’d turned.
I tried to laugh off the compliment. “It’s just a game.”
He could have easily argued, but instead he simply responded with, “If you say so.”
He was right, though. It wasn’t just a game. Not for Charlie. And especially not for me.