1. Tyson Lane #2
That earns me a joyless scowl, which I use as an excuse to stare at her and index all the lines in her face. Not many. Just the disapproving one pinned between her brows. “What does that mean?”
I raise a shoulder and hold it there, pondering how much I want to say.
After a few minutes of silence, I resign to the fact that it’s better not to say anything.
Her mother bred her to believe she’s always the problem.
If she’s not apologizing for something someone else did, she’s trapped in her alternate stage of existence of overthinking.
She wasn’t like that when I met her. Back then, she was bright-eyed and talkative.
That changed when her mom got elected to the Senate, and every detail of her life became public knowledge.
Their anything-but-modest house is only a quarter mile down the road in the little town we grew up in.
It’s a modern two-story home, and one of the nicest in all of Mapleton, with several acres of wild grasses and the best deck-view of the lake.
When we pull in, I drive onto the grass, leaving the driveway clear for her parents to back out.
Ahead of us, the water stretches out, with the house dark, except for the porch light, indicating everyone’s gone to bed.
After killing the engine, I wrap one hand around the steering wheel and squeeze, staring straight ahead.
Neither of us moves. The engine ticks as it cools. “So, ah … I hope I didn’t ruin your date, but he looked like a tool.”
“Seriously, what would you even know about him?” She sighs, her gaze following mine to the still water. “You looked at him for all of five seconds.”
“That’s all I need.” This is infuriating, and I resist the urge to grind my molars—playing hockey defense my entire life has left my dental health at enough risk. “Trust me, he’s not the one, Lottie. A guy in a bar in a bow tie is only capable of loving himself.”
“He was dressed like a gentleman,” she scoffs.
It’s not lost on me that she pulls her feet up on the seat and wraps her arms around her legs, like she’s content sitting here for hours.
We should go inside, but this is what we do.
When the whole world sleeps, we find a way to each other, and we talk about anything and everything.
For hours. I don’t remember a time when we didn’t connect this way.
It’s why, in my heart, I know she’s mine.
Maybe not yet, but someday. I feel it in every fiber of my soul.
So much so that the thought of seeing her in a bar, trying to connect with Bow Tie, makes my chest physically ache.
“That wasn’t giving off gentleman.” I maintain an even voice.
“That was a sleazeball, and you need to be more careful about who you allow to take you out.”
“Are you my dad now?” She rolls her eyes but still makes no move to leave the car. “Even Ham doesn’t care this much, and he’s my brother.” Her voice trails off, and her lashes flutter gently, like she’s struggling.
“That’s right. He is your brother,” I say softly, studying her side profile for any reaction. “But I’m your … friend.” I stumble over the last word; it doesn’t convey the feelings I have for her. There isn’t a word to describe the weird limbo of emotions I’ve been in with her.
Her jaw twitches, tipping me off that she is, in fact, struggling, and she maintains her straightforward stare fixed on the lake. “Right, you’re my friend.”
“Aren’t I?” I level my gaze on her eyes, challenging her.
She accepts my challenge, turning her head to me. “You tell me, Ty.”
My head jolts back in shock. How dare she even ask?
We’ve been friends since she was nothing but knees and elbows.
Even though these last few years the chemistry between us has been palpable, I’ve never said anything to indicate my feelings toward her.
We are friends. That’s what we are because she’s always kept me at arm’s length, insisting she didn’t want to date anyone.
Seeing her tonight with a date clearly means she changed her rule about dating.
I guess I changed my rule about grinding my molars, because it’s all I can do in the moment not to belt out my true feelings.
It’s complicated because we live in different states, and our synchronization, which used to be so easy, is always off now.
Even with all the recent disconnect, the one thing that’s always stayed the same is July, together here.
It’s an unspoken thing, where we come together and just vibe.
Well, until this year, when she ruined it by bringing Bow Tie.
Dropping my gaze to my lap, I take a deep breath.
This night needs a redo. More than anything, I look forward to this weekend all year.
“Hey, I didn’t mean to ruin your date or anything.
I was hoping we could hang out like we always do over the Fourth.
If I’d known you were bringing a date, I would have made other plans. ”
“Don’t.” Her voice is so soft it’s hard to hear. “I want to hang out too, but it’s not like you own me.” Dropping her tone into a whisper, she adds, “Plus, I might have gotten nervous to see you this year.”
The skin between my brows pulls tight—I am thoroughly confused, so much so I bleep out a chuckle. “Nervous for what?”
“I don’t know.” She raises her hand, tucking a long strand of hair behind her ear, giving me a front-row seat to her side profile.
Stun. Ning. Yes, it’s two words for stunning because one isn’t enough to describe the absolute natural beauty she is with those pouty lips.
I bite my lip, and she goes on, “You’ve changed so much since you started playing pro hockey. Like you’re literally famous.”
“I’m not famous.” I shake my head. “And even if I was, it wouldn’t change, you know, me being your … friend.”
“I guess I just wasn’t sure. It’s been weird. It was like whenever one of us called the other, we missed it, and it’s been a year of phone tag.”
“Yeah.” I nod dramatically, because I hated that too. She’s right about this year. No matter how many times we tried to talk, we always ended up missing each other. It was actually comical. Our timing was wrong. “What was up with that?”
“I don’t know, but it was the worst.” She’s quiet as her gaze drifts down, where she finds a string at the hem of her shirt and flicks it with her thumb. In an even voice she adds, “I’m proud of you though. Not just about hockey, but you seem to be doing really well.”
I continue studying her side profile as her bottom lip rolls under her top lip. I can’t help but think that nothing feels wrong now. It’s funny how you can go months without seeing someone, but the second you’re with them again, it feels like no time has passed. That’s how it feels with Lottie.
I forgot about Bow Tie already.
Well, come on—realistically, I will probably never let her live that one down.
“I missed you,” she says softly but keeps her gaze level on her hem.
She has to know the games she plays and what she does to me.
I’m so over not being honest about my feelings.
Frankly, tonight was a huge eye-opener for me.
For years she always swore off dating, citing no need for that drama, but seeing her date right in front of me is a nightmare I don’t care to experience again.
I’m not waiting for Bow Tie to return and steal her from me.
“Same.” I swallow and raise one side of my lips into a grin.
“Well, I think we were both stupid tonight. You ruined my date, but I think you were right, it was stupid for me to be there. Just please don’t butt in like that again.” Her tone is flat, as if warning me, but she slowly cuts a glance level with mine, and it quickly undoes me.
“I’ve done a lot of stupid things in my life but, Lottie, getting you away from Bow Tie wasn’t one of them.” The space between us tightens.
“There’s no way you can know that,” she snaps, glaring at me. “And besides, even if you did know, why do you care who I go out with?”
“I care because I know how guys are, and because I c-care about you.” I trip over my words, then I abruptly stop, letting my statement hang there.
I pray she hears it the way it’s meant to be heard.
Not that I care about her in the sense that she’s my friend’s little sister, but in the sense that whenever she’s near, it’s impossible for me to function.
After a moment of the thickest silence I’ve ever felt, her eyes leave mine, dipping down to an unmissable angle that zeroes in on my lips.
And I’m dead.
I’m no longer thinking with my head, as a magnetism takes over, and before I know what’s happening I lean in.
Sitting next to each other, we were already close—but now we are so close her breath brushes mine.
I’ve dreamed of so many versions of this moment, waiting for the nerve to finally make a move.
It’s nothing like my dreams. I’m far from relaxed.
My pulse quickens as the oxygen drains from my lungs.
She’s not moving, and I freeze, giving her one more chance to resist—and that pause ends up being the death of me.
It’s long enough for her to gasp, and her hand slides to the door handle as she breathes out, “Goodnight, Ty.”
She slips out of the vehicle before I can make an audible reply.
“Night, Lottie,” I say, loud enough for her to hear, though she doesn’t respond. I stare after her as she slams the car door and hurries up the walk, alone, not waiting for me—clearly a warning to keep my distance.
I get it.
Maybe I get it?
I can’t say she’s not interested, because I can feel the tension when we’re together, but it’s complicated.
I hate that it’s complicated.
Shaking my head, I yank on the door handle and follow her lead, even though she’s already passing through the front door, clearly racing away from me. I don’t know how much longer I can keep pretending she’s just my best friend’s little sister.
I don’t know how to explain what she means to me.
It’s just …
She’s meant to be mine.
When I was little, along with all the toys I wanted, I put her on my Christmas list every year.
I didn’t make it obvious, because my mom would see it, and she’d be all weird.
I developed a code that only Santa would know, because he reads minds like that.
It was a tree stump with the words “Always July” carved in it.
My mom thought I just hated winter, and I was asking for summer year-round.
It was the perfect code. Obviously, I don’t believe Santa can help me with this anymore.
My heart throbs in my chest, so hard I don’t doubt it’s bruising.
She’s always been the queen of my heart.
Lottie deserves so much better than Bow Tie.
She actually deserves someone so much better than me .
Her mom has made that clear many times over the years, and maybe that’s part of the reason she keeps her distance from me.
It has to be. I’m not sure why Senator Halloway has it out for me.
Sure, I’m welcome in their home, but there is always a clear boundary with Lottie; I’m Ham’s friend, and that’s where it stops.
I’m not good enough to date her daughter.
“Lottie is a political princess who doesn’t date hockey players.
” She actually said that once out loud at the dinner table when they were talking about who was taking Lottie to prom.
Ham suggested going with me as a friend since she didn’t have a date.
Her mom’s disapproval is clearly one of the main reasons I’ve never gone for it, but if she’s going to waste her time with losers like Bow Tie …
She needs to know she’s better than him.
She’s honestly too good for most guys. She’s so pure and sweet.
The thought of anyone touching her makes my blood boil.
I roll my hands into the tightest fists.
I’m not going to beg. That’s not my style, but she’s clearly holding back, because she sees something in me that’s not good enough too.
Maybe her mom has convinced her? My stomach wrenches at the thought.
Something changed this last year; she’s not who she used to be.
Lottie puts up a guard, but it’s not a good one because she dropped it a little when we were in the car. I saw the way she looked at me for just a moment. I know deep down she has to want this too. She’s just fighting it because for some reason she doesn’t think I’m good enough. Yet.
That’s it. I thrust my jaw forward and clench it, resisting the urge to whoop out loud.
Raising my gaze to the heavens, calling God to be my witness, I vow, “I’m going to be good enough.
I’ll become the best man—one she will notice.
One her mom can’t ignore. One who has earned the respect of everyone.
One who makes me worthy of loving…a queen. ”