Chapter 16 #2
“Yeah… just wants to talk about one of the calls that he was arguing with the ref about.”
I don’t know what that means. I do remember Penn arguing with a ref though and I pin that thought to ask Lucky about it later. Mila nods in understanding.
Lucky turns back to me. “You ready to go?”
I am, but I don’t know where we’re going. It really doesn’t matter because his hand takes hold of mine and it feels right.
“Thank you so much for keeping me company,” I say to the women.
“Anytime. Next game, you sit with us, okay? And we’ll all get together after the next win,” Mazzy assures us.
We say goodbye to the women and weave through other players and family members as we exit the room. Lucky nods to some of them, offers a fist bump to another and then we’re walking down a corridor to a door that says Players’ Lot.
“You okay?” I ask quietly. “That seemed like a hard loss.”
“They’re all hard,” he says with a reassuring smile. “I’m definitely frustrated. We made some mistakes and just didn’t capitalize.” He squeezes my hand. “But that’s the nature of this career. You can’t win them all.”
“Sage words,” I reply as we walk through the lot.
“We’re obviously not going out,” he says as an afterthought. “I assume Kelsey went home?”
I nod. “Yeah… ready to celebrate on another day.”
“She’ll always have a ticket for any game you want to bring her to.”
I melt a little, not sure he even understands what he’s offered. There’s an implication of a future there, that he thinks I’ll be around for a lot longer than the four dates I promised.
Lucky stops and looks down at me. “I’m glad you came to the game.”
“Me too,” I assure him. “And thank you for taking me home. You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to,” he says as we resume our walk and I see his Tahoe five spots down. “While I don’t want to go out to celebrate, I do want to spend time with you.”
Crap… that warms me through and through and my heart thumps like Buttermilk’s back foot. “What do you want to do?”
Lucky’s gaze drifts off as if searching for the answer and then returns to me with sheepish embarrassment. “Honestly… I don’t know.”
I think about it. This is my town, after all. “I have an idea.”
“Going to let me in on it?” he asks, lips curving upward.
“Nope. Give me the keys and I’ll take you there.”
Lucky’s eyes, which have been consistently somber, glimmer with playfulness. “You want me to hand over the keys to my vehicle? I hardly know you.”
I hold out my palm. “Keys. Now.”
Lucky laughs, digs into his pocket and drops the keys onto my palm. And then to my utter shock, his hand goes to the back of my head and he pulls me in for a swift kiss.
“Can you at least tell me where we’re going?” he asks as we start for his vehicle.
“Only to one of the best scenic views you’ll ever lay eyes on,” I promise.
?
I pull into the lower station near Carson Street around eleven, the city’s pulse finally gentling.
The parking lot is mostly empty at this hour, save for a couple of rideshare drivers scrolling their phones and one teenager who looks like he should be home rather than on the streets trying to do kick-flips under a streetlamp.
Lucky follows me in silence to the ticket booth, our steps echoing against the old pavement. Inside, the air smells faintly of machine grease and worn wood, making me feel nostalgic.
The line to the Duquesne Incline is practically nonexistent. Just two older couples and a college-aged pair who look like they’re halfway through falling in love. We stand shoulder to shoulder and when Lucky’s fingers brush mine, I don’t pull away.
We board the cable car—the old red one with polished wood benches and the Duquesne Incline logo flaking in gold paint near the front. The wooden floor creaks under our weight when we step inside.
As the car ascends, the incline clicks and groans to life beneath us. The steep, thirty-degree climb sends a thrill through me, even though I’ve done this ride dozens of times.
We watch the city unfurl below us like a glowing map.
The night sky is all velvety darkness, broken only by the golden spines of the bridges and the shimmer of the city dancing along the rivers.
The skyscrapers glimmer like a crown, windows blinking in patterns that feel almost alive.
Far off at the Point, I see where the Allegheny and Monongahela meet to become the Ohio, their dark waters stitched together by silver light.
The higher we climb, the quieter everything gets. The clatter of the tracks softens, and it feels like we’re being lifted above the noise and into sacred air. When I was a kid, I told my mom it felt like I was floating inside a snow globe.
“Holy shit,” Lucky murmurs as we stand at the glass, watching the ground slip away as we rise. “That’s incredible.”
“This view gets me every time.”
“It’s both monumental and peaceful.”
I turn my head to him and his gaze comes to mine. “That’s a great way to describe it. I sometimes come here when I need to get out of my head.”
“I can see how a place like this makes the noise not so loud.”
When we reach the top, the operator unlocks the car with a cheerful “Have a good night.”
We walk toward the overlook railing, where the whole of Pittsburgh’s skyline opens before us. The air is crisp and the river is lit with colorful sparkles cast by the lights from waterfront buildings.
Lucky leans on the railing beside me, arms folded as he looks out over the city. “You know what’s weird?” he says softly. “I was really nervous during the game.”
I blink at him in confusion. “Why?”
“Because this… you… it’s honestly a little uncomfortable.” He glances over, eyes lit more by emotion than reflection. My breath freezes and I wonder if this is a kiss-off. “But it also feels like the best thing I’ve stumbled into in a long time.”
My heart does a slow, somersaulting flip before it expands like a beach ball.
“You’re not alone in that,” I say, unable to form a more coherent sentence.
We stand there, close but not touching, as the gears clank from the descending incline.
Then Lucky reaches out and takes my hand, weaving his fingers through mine. He pulls me gently toward him until our bodies align. His other hand rises to my cheek, thumb brushing the edge of my jaw like he’s memorizing it.
Such a gentle touch from a man who’s work can be brutal and rough.
And then he kisses me.
It’s not like the kiss at my door. Not even like the one on my couch. This one is deeper, slower. Like he’s telling me something important without saying a word.
Like he’s affirming the words he just said.
His mouth moves against mine with quiet confidence and I’ve never felt more connected to someone.
When he finally pulls back, our foreheads touch, and the space between us hums.
A playful grin splits his face. “Let’s do a TikTok. Update everyone on how the date is going.”
“But it’s not technically one of the four dates,” I say.
“Correct. This is an unofficial date.”
His enthusiasm is a little infectious. “Okay… go for it.”
“Nope… on your channel,” he says, and I accept his challenge.
We’re standing near the edge of the overlook, the city behind us like a postcard. I lift my phone in selfie mode, switching to video, and give Lucky a quick glance. “Okay, say hi to the people,” I tease.
He slides in behind me, his arms wrapping snugly around my waist, chin resting lightly on my shoulder.
“Hi, people,” he says, voice low and warm. Then, straight into the lens, “Just want to say this woman right here”—he gives me a little squeeze—“brought me up to this insane view after a very tough loss tonight.”
I blink, surprised he’s admitting that on camera. But he’s not done.
“I was in my head. Pissed off. Frustrated. But she knew exactly what I needed—quiet, perspective, and her.”
His lips brush my temple, but his eyes stay on the screen. “And I don’t know if she realizes it, but this—just standing here with her, breathing in the city and not talking about stats or contracts or any of the bullshit—this is one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time.”
I open my mouth to say something, but I’m speechless. He’s a freaking poet, unafraid to put his heart out there. I’m frankly stunned and can do nothing but try to keep my jaw from sagging further.
“So, yeah,” he says with a wink at the camera. “Shout-out to kindergarten teachers who moonlight as emotional support humans.”
I groan and turn slightly to swat at him. “You did not just say that on my channel.”
“Too late.” He grins.
I end the video with both of us laughing, his arms locked around me. How can this be real and still feel like a fantasy at the same time?