Chapter 23
Lucky
This pub is glowing green.
Not metaphorically—literally. Every overhead light has a green filter, and there’s a four-foot inflatable leprechaun duct-taped on top of the jukebox.
Everyone is wearing beads or novelty hats or some kind of shamrock-patterned shirt, and the TV screens are all tuned to a curling match like it’s the Super Bowl.
Welcome to St. Patrick’s Day in Montreal. I swear, my clover tats are practically vibrating in solidarity.
Atlas and I snag a booth near the back, away from the drunkest revelers.
We had a practice this morning and team meeting at lunch.
Most of the guys—myself included—took a nap and now our evening is free.
Because we play tomorrow, this will be an early night.
Most of the guys went to a downtown spot for dinner and drinks, but Atlas and I opted for this low-key bar near the team hotel. We both prefer this.
He lifts his bottle in salute. “To surviving a Canadian road trip.”
I clink mine to his. “To not ending up in a TikTok bar fight.”
He huffs out a laugh and sips. “That would absolutely happen to you.”
He’s not wrong.
I lean back against the booth, beer cold in my hand, and study him. Atlas looks tired. And pained. He bears a heaviness he’s not even trying to hide.
“You good?” I ask.
He nods, then shrugs. “Yeah. Just… yesterday was rough.”
Atlas’s friend is dying of cancer, and I can’t even imagine what that’s like. I’ve never had anyone close to me die and I’m not looking forward to it.
I hold my words, giving him space to talk if he wants to share.
“I got to spend a couple hours with Gray.” Atlas grimaces, his stare fixed on his beer. “He looked awful. Like a skeleton.”
“Jesus,” I murmur, leaning forward. “How’s his family taking it?”
Atlas shakes his head, face scrunched in pain. “He doesn’t have any. His parents died when he was young and he was raised by his grandmother, but she died a few years ago. No siblings.”
“Aunts? Uncles?”
“Some on his dad’s side but they were estranged, so he doesn’t know them at all.” Atlas takes a sip of his beer, his gaze locking onto mine. “The life’s draining out of him faster than I expected.”
I hate to ask, but I do, anyway. “How much longer does he have left?”
Atlas shrugs. “He’s under hospice care at home right now. Could be a few months, could be a few weeks. They don’t know.”
I shake my head. The unknown has always been my biggest fear, but when you mix it with death, it’s terrifying. “You said he has a kid?”
Atlas takes another drink, then stares into the bottle like it might offer answers. “A little girl.”
“Christ,” I murmur, taking a healthy swig of my own beer. “So, he only has hospice workers looking after him and his daughter?”
“No, a friend of ours is helping to care for him. Maddie. She’s doing the lion’s share of the work.”
“You don’t sound like that’s a good deal.”
“It’s a good deal. I don’t get along with her all that well, but she loves him like her own brother and she’s taking excellent care of him and his daughter.”
Curiosity gets the better of me. “Why don’t you like her?”
Atlas stares into his beer, then exhales through his nose. “Maddie and I just… clash.”
I wait, but he doesn’t elaborate, so I prod. “What kind of clash?”
He shrugs. “We’re wired differently. She’s one of those people who says exactly what she thinks, no filter. Calls me out all the time. Always thinks she’s right. She pushes buttons just to get a reaction.”
“So… she challenges you,” I say, lips twitching.
He shoots me a dry look. “That’s one way of putting it. I call it being a pain in the ass.”
I grin, sensing there’s more under the surface. “But you trust her with your best friend’s life. And his daughter’s.”
His expression softens a fraction. “Yeah. I might not like her… but I trust her. And that’s the only thing that matters right now.”
I nod slowly, letting that settle in.
Atlas’s voice lowers. “He asked me to look after her, Lucky.”
My eyes widen in surprise. “After his daughter? As in care for her?”
“I don’t know. He wouldn’t come out and say it. Just a lot of, ‘Please make sure she’s taken care of’ type stuff. He’s on a lot of pain meds, so I don’t know what he means.”
“Would you do it?” I ask.
“I wouldn’t have a choice,” Atlas says.
“There’s always a choice,” I counter, because he has an incredibly demanding career with an insane travel schedule. Single parenting is not ideal in this line of work. “Maybe not a good one, but a choice.”
He shrugs. “I guess I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it but if he asks anyone to take his daughter, it will be Maddie.”
I nod, feeling the weight of it for him.
Before I can say anything else, my phone buzzes on the table and I see it’s Winnie. Hope practice went well. I’m currently being serenaded by Sadie singing “I’m a Little Leprechaun” in full costume. She made me wear green eye shadow.
A grin breaks across my face, unbidden and warm.
Atlas catches it. “That Winnie?”
“Yeah.” I fire off a reply. Tell Sadie she’s the only leprechaun I’ll ever pledge allegiance to. How was your day?
I set my phone down, not expecting an immediate reply since she’s with her niece. But I know she’ll text at some point. We’ve maintained constant contact while I’ve been on this road trip, mostly by text, but some great phone calls too.
“She seems really good for you,” Atlas says, eyeing me like he already knows where this is going.
“She is. It’s stupid how fast it happened, but I don’t care. The more I’m away from her, the more I know. She’s the one.”
“You told her that yet?”
I shake my head. “Not in so many words. But I’m gonna. First, I need to survive these next couple days without doing something pathetic.”
Atlas leans back. “Like texting her every hour?”
“Too late,” I mutter, making him laugh.
Atlas drains the rest of his beer and rises from the table. “One more? My treat.”
“Yup,” I reply, and he heads off to the bar.
I nab my phone again and call my mom. She answers on the second ring. “Matteo Branson. To what do I owe this honor?”
I grin. “Hey, Ma.”
“Oh no. You’re using your sweet voice. What’s going on?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” I assure her. “I just wanted to confirm your flight. You’re still coming in for the Vegas game?”
“Yes! And I can’t wait to see you.”
“Same.” My mom travels to many of my games in Pittsburgh and some that aren’t.
“Will I get to meet Winnie?” she asks coyly.
“That’s… kind of why I’m calling. I was wondering if I can talk you into an authentic Italian meal while you’re here?”
“I’ve got your back.” She laughs and I hear the pure joy in her voice. “I really can’t wait to meet her. I don’t know what this is, but I love watching it unfold on TikTok.”
“Yeah, well… not sure how much more we’ll post about it. Winnie’s getting some blowback and while she’s putting on a brave face, I know it bothers her.”
“I saw the way you stood up for her in some of those comments. I’m proud of you and also so very happy. I don’t know what this will become, but it has all the promise in the world.”
Yeah… it does.
I spy Atlas heading back and cut the call short. “Listen… I gotta go, but I’ll see you in a few days.”
“Play well tomorrow. I love you.”
“Love you too.”
Atlas settles into his chair and slides a fresh brew across the table. My phone buzzes in my hand and I see it’s from Foster in a group chat we have going. Need everyone at the Rustwood Room this Saturday evening around 7. Mazzy singing with Leo. Then I’m proposing. Keep it secret.
I stare at the message, my heart doing something weird. “Holy shit,” I say, holding the phone up for Atlas to see. He’s on the group chat but his phone is tucked away.
He reads it, a grin breaking his face. “About time.”
Big things are happening. Winnie’s meeting my mom Tuesday and Mazzy’s getting proposed to on Saturday. Atlas might be stepping into fatherhood.
And me?
I’m in Montreal on St. Patrick’s Day, in a bar that smells like fried cabbage and spilled green beer, realizing I might be next.
And I’m not scared of that.
Not even a little.