Chapter 20 Lucas #2
I laugh under my breath, not wanting to gain the attention of any of my teammates, most of which are already dressed and heading to the bus.
My chest swells knowing Hannah probably tricked Abby into showing up at the ranch unannounced.
I may or may not have said something about it when she dropped Wilder off at the plane.
It’s one of his away-game superstitions: if Hannah doesn’t bring him to the airport, he’s off the entire trip.
I have so many questions. Thanks for giving her a chance, though.
I watch as three dots immediately show up on the screen, dancing, then disappearing and reappearing like they’re made to taunt me.
Abby: She’s alright, she taught us how to cuss in Spanish.
Abby: She also wanted to know if you can “twirl like a pretty girl?”
My chin meets my chest as I shake my head slightly. That girl is something.
Depends, does a pretty girl spin like a 200-pound gorilla?
Abby: She said, “No, I kind of envision it like an elephant. The ones that wear tutus and tiaras.”
Huh, I could probably make that happen.
Abby: Eff this shit. Hold on.
**Abby added Scarlett Arias and Mrs. Friggen Wilder to the group chat**
Damn, Knight. This is the best idea you’ve ever had.
Abby: You owe me, Monroe. They’ve had way too many margaritas.
Pictures or it didn’t happen.
Scarlett:
Mrs. Friggen Wilder: Did you know Scarlett is the queen of making margaritas?
Mrs. Friggen Wilder: We’re never watching a game without her again. But, we had to teach her what a puck was… A PUCK, MONROE.
I catch up to Wilder, who’s looking at his phone with a frown on his face. “What's that look for?” I take in his shoulders, they’re pulled up to his ears, a sign that he’s starting to panic. I put my hand on the top of them and push down until they relax.
“I called Hannah, and she didn’t answer…
” I hand him my phone, and he scrolls to the top of the group chat Abby just started and starts to read.
His head shakes, but a smile grows across his face.
“You know, she’s been trying to figure out how to get Scarlett to be her friend for months now.
Almost brought her a dog after she and Wilson spent the day at the animal shelter. ”
My phone vibrates in Wilder’s Hand,
Mrs. Friggen Wilder: She’s ours now. You’ll have to fight me for her, pendejo.
Mrs. Friggen Wilder: She says that means “Asshole.”
Mrs. Friggen Wilder: Don't hate me, I didn’t mean it.
Scarlett: Jesus, you can’t cuss at him, then take it back.
Wilder groans, “Damn it, my wife is drunk.” But the texts keep coming.
Abby: I did not sign up for this cruel and unusual punishment.
Scarlett: Oh, quit your bitchin’. I offered you some, too, but you decided to be holier than thou.
A laugh bursts from my teammate and me as we step onto the bus, taking our usual seats in the fourth row on the right side. Yeah, Hannah’s going to have one hell of a hangover. But I can’t even hide how happy I am that they took the time to get to know her while I’m not around.
Those two are worse than I am when they get their hooks into someone.
She and Abby are going to bump heads a bit.
They’re both the most stubborn women I’ve ever known.
Luckily, both Abby and Hannah know how much Scarlett means to me.
And I don’t think they’d do anything to make her go running for the hills.
Wilder’s hand lands on my shoulder, wrapping around the top of it, “Ready for spa day? I could use a little hydration. My face is feeling a bit dry from this dry air.” I’d take a hundred degrees and ninety percent humidity over this every day of my life.
Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I stand and follow him off the bus.
Pocketing my phone, but not before I send one last text to the text thread between me, Abby, and Hannah.
Lucas: You have no idea how happy I am that all my favorite women are together. Thank you for not writing her off.
Heavy footsteps echo through the stairwell as Wilder and I climb to our room. Why we take the stairs to the twelfth floor, after we played an entire hockey game, I don’t know. But we did it once during the playoffs last year and have done it every away game since. “This is stupid,” I murmur.
His chuckle sounds from in front of me.
“No, my legs freaking hurt. I need a massage.” I whine. The superstitions us hockey players develop could be studied in some college class on ridiculousness. Alas, we probably won’t stop, but right now, I wish we would.
“Quit moaning, Monroe. It’s only two more flights. You climb more stairs on the stairmaster, multiple times a week.” He’s not wrong.
The door creaks as it’s pulled open, and we step into the air-conditioned hallway. “Ahh, I can breathe again,” I say as I’m met with a swat to the shoulder.
“Anyone ever tell you, you’re dramatic?” he chides as we push into our hotel room.
He’s been my travel buddy for the last two years, ever since he got traded to the team.
I honestly couldn’t have picked a better roommate.
He suffers with his own demons. The darkness of depression weighs on him, much like I assume loneliness weighs on me, or at least it did.
It’s kind of dissipated since Scarlett showed back up.
“Only all the time,” I mutter as we get to our room.
We drop our bags on the floor, then immediately get out of our game-day suits and into our boxers, thankful that we showered before leaving the arena as we slide into our robes. Once the ridiculous green goo has hardened on our faces, I pull out my phone and snap a picture of the two of us.
I feel like the meme of the lizard with its mouth open, laughing, but looking like it has a double chin.
We look ridiculous, always do, but I swear that’s half the fun.
Hanging out somewhere between an ogre and old Greg.
My cheeks are stiff, my forehead refusing to wiggle in the slightest, and I’m pretty sure my eyebrows are currently out of commission on showing any type of emotion. Is this how people with Botox feel?
Lucas:
Lucas: On a scale of one to absolutely not, how likely are you to let me take you on a date?
Lettie: Like that? A negative thousand percent.
Lucas: But if I took it off, you’re saying there's a chance?
Lettie: Definitely didn’t say that.
Lucas: I’ll ask again when I don’t look like a garden gnome that’s been left in the sun too long.
Lettie: HA!
Lettie: Your friends are alright. Both passed out on my couch, though.
Lucas: Sorry, they’re like fleas. Once they’re in your house, they never leave. See you soon, Lettie Girl.
“Did you miss doing this with your mom?” His question catches me off guard. I hadn’t really thought about it. Something Dr. Williams taught me when I first started going was that it’s okay to rewrite memories if the original is too painful to withstand.
I turn to look at him, and fight back a laugh when I see a big bow on the top of a headband that’s holding his hair back.
That’s definitely Hannah’s. “Nah, I did when I was younger. But making this our thing kind of took the sting out of it, you know? Might be nice to leave all those things in the past.”
He nods, lacing his fingers together and putting them behind his head. “Can I pry for a minute?”
I snort. When does he not? “Sure, buddy.”
He swallows hard before asking, “Is Scarlett the reason you’ve sabotaged all your other dates?”
I breathe out through my nose. In my mind, it’s always been Scarlett or no one. But sabotage? That’s a bit dramatic, even for him. “I did not sabotage anything…” I say without any heat behind it.
His eyes slide to mine, “Monroe, you literally told the last woman you went out with that she’d always be second to your first love.” His hands bounce off the bed with a quiet thud. “What kind of woman would stick around after that?”
I mean, that’s a fair assumption, but he missed the entire first half of that conversation.
The one where she went on and on about wanting to be a stay at home wife and was completely opposed to kids.
Have you seen me? I’d make beautiful babies.
Plus, it was the first time I met the woman.
I mean, talk about red freaking flags. “I get it, but if you want the truth, it’s always been her for me.
From the very first time she saved me from getting bit by a copperhead, to the time I–”
I cut myself off, stuffing my hands in the pockets of the robe, trying to stop their shake at the memory of what almost was, “It’s always been her, man.
It always will be, whether it’s reciprocated or not.
It wouldn’t be fair for someone else when my heart would never belong to them the way it does to her. ”
“But what if that’s not the case?” He plays devil’s advocate, “What if the person you’re supposed to be with is out there looking for you, and you’ve wasted all this time waiting on someone who doesn’t even want the same thing you do.
” His hand comes up to rub the back of his neck.
He hasn’t said anything I haven’t thought of five hundred times over the years, but something about hearing someone else say it.
Having someone else doubt the feelings I have for her sends me over the edge.
I raise my voice, only slightly, but it’s enough to take this from a friendly conversation to a hostile one. “If it’s not Lettie, I don’t want it.”
He deflates next to me, and I immediately chastise myself for my reaction. I know he’s trying to help
“Sorry, man, I just.” My hand runs through my hair, “If you knew Hannah was out there, and you met her before Kara.”
His cheeks puff up with air, eyes widening before he doubles over and heaves, pretending to puke.
“Humor me. If you met Hannah, spent three months with her every summer for seven years, you knew, without a doubt, that you loved her at sixteen, then something happened, and you didn’t see her again. Would you have even entertained Kara?”
“Absolutely the hell not.”
I point at him, and he sags against the headboard.
A sigh floats through the air as he looks up at the ceiling, “Okay, point made. I just don’t want to see you hurt. Again.”
I know he doesn’t mean anything by it, I know he’s just looking out for me.
But it doesn’t hurt any less. “These past couple months… It’s the happiest I’ve been in years, and that's with me losing the only parent I had left. But, even if she decides friendship is all she can offer, I’ll take it, because my worst day with her is still better than my best day without. ”
He nods, understanding coming to life in his eyes. “Can we wash this off now?” He scratches his cheek, and not even two seconds later, the timer goes off, and we’re rushing to the double sinks outside the bathroom.
“I appreciate you, man,” I whisper into the dark of our room. “I know I haven’t exactly been the best teammate lately, but being here, not being alone, it’s the first time in a long time when Scarlett isn’t with me, that I haven’t thought of drinking to make the thoughts stop.”
If there’s anyone who’d understand the pain of hiding in plain sight, it’s this guy.
Which I guess is why I continue. “I know that there’s a chance she could leave me, too.
But she’s back for a reason, maybe that’s me.
Maybe it’s not. Life brought her to me because it knew I’d need her to make it through this season. ”