16. Tyson
sixteen
Tyson
The volume on my phone is low, but the captions scroll as I slouch in my bus seat. When Lottie’s face pops up on the bottom of the screen, the air leaves my lungs like I’ve been punched.
She’s standing in a crowd, her hair pinned back in that effortless way. She smiles like she always does when she’s trying to keep something from showing on her face. The closed caption reads: “Senator’s daughter confirms new romantic relationship with notable scholar.”
Bodan is next to her— his arm around her waist!
My gaze trails along his arm, and I grit my teeth as the mere sight of him touching her feels like an axe to my gut. The reporter leans in and asks her a question. All my blood rushes to my head, and I can’t read what she asked. Lottie nods and smiles, her gorgeous smile stretching even wider.
It’s fake.
It’s fake.
It’s all a big fat lie.
I chant to myself, but it doesn’t stop my heart from feeling like it’s being bludgeoned.
I also know Lottie’s smart and not the type to get caught up in some fake-dating scheme.
Right now it doesn’t matter. A wound tears open right between my ribs.
It kills me to witness her next to any guy, fake or not.
I hated seeing Bow Tie with her. This is maybe worse.
Around me, the guys are loud, riding the post-practice high. Someone’s laughing about how tonight was the first time I actually made it onto the ice on time. Thankfully, I didn’t get a prank ambush today. I should feel good about that. Instead, all I can see is Lottie smiling at Bodan.
Maybe I’m a sucker for punishment, but I open my texts and scroll to the one person who knows what’s going on, hoping for another point of view.
You off work?
The dots appear almost immediately.
Ham: Just wrapped up the fundraiser. About to head back to the farm. Why?
My stomach’s in knots. I’m not hungry, but I can’t think of another excuse to get him to meet me.
I reply:
Dinner?
A pause.
Then: Yeah. I can swing by the hotel and grab you .
A minute later, the bus slows, and the blinker ticks as we pull into the hotel lot.
The guys talk over each other as they grab their stuff and head out.
I hang back, waiting until the aisle clears, then step down onto the pavement.
The hot, muggy air hits my face and burns in a way that almost feels needed.
I don’t wait long before Ham’s truck pulls up like he timed it to the second. I shove my phone into the center pocket of my hoodie. Stepping off the sidewalk, I open the door and immediately groan when I see the inside of his truck. “Dude. What is all this?”
He laughs, waving his hand around like he’s presenting a prize. “It’s the fundraiser aftermath.”
There are signs everywhere: poster boards, rolled banners, stacks of leftover programs, and boxes that smell like coffee.
I wedge myself into the passenger seat, barely fitting.
“Too bad you don’t drive that Land Rover any more.
I see Lottie still uses it, which I was surprised to see.
It has way more room in it than this,” I mutter as I shove a box of brochures aside.
“Complaining already?” He pulls away forward. “If I’d known you’d be such a downer, I’d have left you on the curb.”
My zip hoodie is puffed up around my neck, trapping heat I don’t want right now.
I always slip it on after practice because the arena is cold.
I clearly don’t need it anymore, and I shrug it off.
Since there’s no room to put it next to me—and I’m afraid it’ll get lost in the sea of stuff in the back seat—I shove it behind me.
Then I let out a sigh when I’m finally able to breathe in the muggy air.
“So,” I say, trying to sound casual and not like I’m still recovering from seeing Lottie touching skin with Bodan, “how’d the fundraiser go? ”
“Good.” He checks his mirrors and pulls forward. “Looks like my mom’s approval points are climbing back a little, and Bodan went over well.”
I squawk a laugh as my throat constricts, and the sound that slips out is terrifying.
He taps his brakes and jerks his gaze over at me. “You good?”
Turning my attention out the window, I watch the streetlights scroll past the windshield. I don’t need to tell him everything, but Ham and I have always been close. “I saw the Bodan announcement on the news.”
He takes a left. “Yeah.”
“I didn’t think it would bother me.” I rub my eye, not because it itches. My nerves drive me to fidget. “I know it’s fake. I know why she’s doing it. I’m happy she’s helping your mom.” The words tangle on the way out. “I didn’t expect it to feel like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like losing something I never had.” I give him a side-eye, half expecting some cocky smirk that reveals Bodan was some elaborate joke he cooked up after I admitted I like Lottie. But he’s not smiling. It’s not a joke.
He keeps driving, one hand resting on top of the wheel.
Maybe I should keep my mouth shut, because it has to be weird for him.
She’s his baby sister. But my chest is so tight it doesn’t even feel like my chest anymore.
It’s like I’ve been body switched. Is that even a thing? I don’t know what to do with it.
I hope it’s not too late. I hope I didn’t push Lottie into something that’s going to mess up any chance we might have.
Crashing out, I ramble, “Dude, I know she’s your sister, but I think about her all the time.
I tell myself it’s just a crush and it’ll pass in the next month or so, but then I see her like that, and it hits me that it’s not just a phase.
It’s her. It’s always been her. For years.
I don’t even remember a time when it wasn’t her—”
“Bruh!” He holds up one hand to his ear like he’s plugging it.
“Got it. That’s enough! I get it. Totally.
I don’t need any more.” He shudders as he takes a left and turns into the shopping center parking lot.
He parks between a burger place and a barbecue joint and kills the engine.
Neither of us moves. After a moment he adds, “So this might be too simple, but maybe you need to tell her already?”
“No, the timing is off.” My throat tightens.
“At first, I seriously thought it was fate bringing us together this summer, but everything changed when your mom had to make that big deal about hockey players.” I shake my head as it hangs even lower.
“Seriously, it’s not even a hobby. Hockey is my job, and I’m good at it.
And your mom knows me. Why would she ban Lottie from seeing someone in my profession? ”
“Maybe my mom feels the tension, and she doesn’t want it to affect Lottie’s focus,” he says, before adding, “not that it would.”
“And I get that. Really, I do. I’ve tried to be rational about this.
Trust me, I don’t want these feelings. It makes everything so much harder.
” I drag a hand over my face. “I’ve got this insane soul tie or something, where I’ll be doing the most normal thing and suddenly I’ll see a white Land Rover with a woman with long blond hair driving it—and my chest just collapses.
I just can’t breathe. She’s ruined me from white Land Rovers for life. ”
I shake my head. “Dude, the day I moved away from Mapleton, I was bawling at a gas station because I saw a bag of plain M&M’s, and they are her favorite.
Everyone knows the peanut ones are way better, but she’s so loyal to the OG.
” I let out a slow breath. “I don’t know when it started, but it almost happens daily—these little pulls I can’t shut down. She’s perfect.”
“Brah, she’s really just another chick. If you lived with her, you’d know she isn’t perfect.
” Ham chuckles but I can tell it’s not a real laugh.
It’s more what you do when you try to forcefully lighten the mood.
“She leaves all this hair in the shower drain. It’s disgusting.
She’s terrible at taking care of those goats. Like, they are ruining our lives—”
I flick my hand out, cutting him off. “See, I don’t see those as liabilities. I find them adorable.”
“You wouldn’t think her hair in the shower drain is adorable if you saw it. It looks like a dead rat.” Sighing, he flicks his finger forward, pointing to the burger place. “You still want to eat?”
“Yeah,” I say. “I do.”
Opening his door slowly, he mumbles, “Well, let’s stop emoting about Lottie then.”
I open my door and grab my sweatshirt. It’s hot outside, but everyone always has their air-conditioning cranked so cold that I like to wear it indoors. As soon as I swipe it from my seat, something slides free and hits the pavement with a soft tap.
It’s my phone. The screen lights up, flashing bright.
Lottie’s name glows on it .
For a second, the world narrows to that single word, pulsing like a secret I didn’t mean to reveal. Then it dawns on me.
It’s not just her name
It’s a call, and it’s connected!
Somehow, I called her, and she’s on the other end.
I grab my phone, my fingers trembling, and slowly raise it to my ear. The line is dead silent as I speak quietly.
“Lottie, are you there?”