18. nick
NICK
OFF TO YOUR LADY LOVE
Tallulah, Tallulah, Tallulah.
During the game in Calgary, Tallulah’s name bounced around the inside of my head. I slammed another puck into the net, pumping my fist at the crowd, thinking Tallulah, Tallulah, Tallulah.
I was having a blast. Both teams skewed older, everybody else on the ice had to be careful not to strain past injuries and didn’t have my endurance. I took every shot, reckless with my swings in ways nobody else could be.
It was fucking awesome.
I scraped up the ice, blissed the fuck out, so happy—
Tallulah, Tallulah, Tallulah.
Her name was a tag on my thoughts, pinned as if I could ever forget it. On my walk out of the stadium, I was grinning so wide, it hurt, but the grin slid off my face when I checked my phone.
No messages.
“She was supposed to text me when she got to the house,” I muttered, double-checking.
My teammates chortled, reminding me that Tallulah was in fact, twenty years old, and liable to forget things every now and then.
I triple-checked my phone. Nothing. Nothing? My instructions had been pretty clear. The key was under the mat, and when Tallulah found it, she was supposed to text me to confirm she’d gotten inside okay.
Why didn’t she text me?
I pushed open the door to my hotel room and my phone buzzed with a video call. My excitement piqued and waned. It wasn’t the person I wanted to talk to, but I did miss the guys from Marrs.
“Hey,” I said, tossing my bag to the ground. “What’s up?”
My team captain from Marrs came into view. Denali grinned and a bunch of my Marrs teammates hollered and waved from the background. “Six to three, Kurosawa!”
I propped my phone on the pillow, bowing to the camera, taking the mock applause in stride. I chuckled. “It was nice to skate on a rink without you losers bumping into me.”
“I can’t believe you psyched out that Sterling guy,” Elijah laughed. “He crashed so hard into the net, what a fucking asshole—”
“You guys watched my game?” I asked, pleased.
“How mad would you be if we said we found a bootleg version?”
“Shit, I don’t see that money.”
“Good.” Elijah grinned. “We found a bootleg version. The Canadian league wanted twenty-six bucks, Nick. What the fuck—am I made of money?”
I laughed and Denali brought the view back to himself. “How’s Coach Tomasini?”
“Is that why you called?” I arched an eyebrow, sarcasm thick. “Miss you too, babe.”
“Have you talked to him yet?”
“Only when he sends one of his assistants to bitch me out with a new schedule.”
“You need to—”
“I just won a hockey game, man.” I collapsed into bed, refreshing my messages to see if Tallulah hit me up. Still nothing. I sighed. “Relax, Denali. You don’t need to put my nuts through a meat grinder. Tomasini’s doing that enough as is.”
I could hear Fridge make a disgusted sound in the background. “Lovely image, Nick.”
I didn’t know what to think when Fridge appeared on the screen.
I was legitimately glad to see him—I always was.
That wouldn’t change. But it was hard not to feel conflicted.
There were too many emotions competing against each other.
I missed hanging out with Fridge, and I was irritated that Tallulah had these uptight views of sex that Fridge never bothered to correct.
I didn’t want to go behind Fridge’s back, but I wanted Tallulah, and that outweighed everything else.
“Gaming session tonight?” Fridge asked, bringing me back to the conversation.
“Uh, what about tomorrow night? I’m free then.”
“What are you doing tonight?” Elijah asked, coming into frame. He wiggled his eyebrows. “Nah, I don’t want to know. Use condoms. Don’t come back with Nicole and Nick. Jr.”
The assumption bothered me. “I’m not ditching you guys to get laid.”
“When are you going to drop the whole ‘I’m celibate’ bullshit?” Elijah snickered. “Nobody believes it.”
“Dickhead, I wasn’t pretending—”
“Uh-huh? You haven’t touched any Canadian hotties? Suuuure.”
“Well, I’m not doing the celibacy thing anymore.” I grabbed a pillow, laying back. “I’ve been kind of…talking to…one girl. Like, actually talking to her. I want to video call her tonight, I’m waiting for her to text me.”
The entire team burst into hard laughter. One of the guys fell off Denali’s couch and another spit up his beer, wheezing. Denali rolled his eyes, handing his phone to Fridge.
Fridge laughed too, grinning wide. “Man, if you don’t want to talk to us, be honest.”
My jaw twitched, irritated. “I’m not joking, Fridge.”
“Yeah, okay.”
“I’m not!”
“Sure.”
“I’m waiting for her to text me—she was supposed to text me before the game—”
My phone jingled, and my heart soared for seconds, before I saw who it was. Not Tallulah. I stared at the text in disbelief. There was a delivery man at the front door of the house in Toronto, waiting for a signature.
Goddammit. I ordered the gift for Tallulah under the assumption that she’d be in the house. I didn’t think she’d go dark on me. Was she even there? I didn’t know the delivery company would even need a signature. I would’ve ordered from somebody else for a clean drop-off!
“I have to go,” I told them.
“Uh-huh.” Fridge chuckled. “Off to your lady love, sure, sure—”
I hung up on the team and video-called Tallulah. I pushed out of the bed, pacing across the hotel floor, waiting for her to pick up. How long would the delivery guy wait?
“Hi!”
Tallulah’s excited face made me stop in front of the mini fridge. “Where are you?”
“Um…I’m watching your house? Because you asked me to?”
“You’re at the house? Why didn’t you text me?”
“I was reading. It’s a great chapter—”
“Tallulah,” I interjected. “There’s someone at the door.”
“Oh, I know. I won’t answer.”
“What?”
“Because it’s not my house? I’m just watching it for the weekend?” Tallulah said, confused. “I was afraid it’s a teammate’s girlfriend or something. I don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea or be mad—”
I had to pull the phone away, breathing deeply.
In Minnesota, one of my college mentors informed me that when I’d settle down and get married—I’d laughed my ass off when he said that—I needed to find a wife who’d make my life easier. When you’re set on the path of pros, your wife has to be willing to ride the rough road and make it smoother.
Which was not Tallulah.
Tallulah didn’t make anything easier. Anxiety pushed her to choose decisions that honestly baffled me.
Like this. Not answering the door on the off-chance she could upset someone.
Who thought like that? Sometimes, Tallulah insisted on not burdening someone else, and by doing that, inevitably made life harder for herself.
That was part of the anxiety, wasn’t it?
I sighed. Her nervous system was in an endless fight or flight mode. Tallulah was always trying to prepare for the worst possibility. I had to remember that and be patient.
Something I’d never been exactly great at.
I returned to the call, my voice firm. “Tallulah, no one’s going to get mad at you. I need you to answer the door.”
“Okay, I’m sorry—” I could see her nudge Rat away. “I’m sorry about not texting you back—Andrew threatened to send one of the interns home, our group meetings were horrible. It’s been a long day, I forgot—”
“It’s fine, Tallulah.”
“I really am sorry, I—” Tallulah opened the door and her eyes widened. “Oh—oh my god. Um…”
“Need you to sign here,” the guy said, his voice gruff.
Tallulah disappeared from view and when she reappeared, the blush darkened her cheeks. She struggled to carry in the bouquet, the flowers pressed against her face. “You…you bought me flowers?”
“Yeah. From me and the Toronto Blades.”
Liar, liar—my Canadian teammates didn’t know about the flowers. If they did, they would’ve made fun of me over them.
“The flowers are for house-sitting,” I lied. “Thank you.”
“It’s no trouble,” she murmured, sitting on the couch. Rat leaped up behind her and purred, brushing against her hair. “I sorted the mail. And watered the lawn.”
“Shit, the guys don’t even do that.”
“Here I thought the dead grass was ornamental.” Tallulah giggled and picked up Rat, petting her. “The bouquet is beautiful. Some of these are Black-Eyed Susans. They’re my—”
“I know,” I said too quickly, cutting her off. I winced, sheepish. “I—uh—know they’re your favorite. They’re on your backpack.”
Her smile was so sweet, my stomach clenched. “They’re everywhere on the Cherokee Rez. And my dad’s Diné—”
“I thought your dad’s Navajo?”
“We don’t call ourselves Navajo. Diné is what my dad’s family and I use.”
“Oh. I haven’t heard you say that.”
“I don’t around everybody at school. There'd be a lot of explanations. I don’t want to deal with that. But it’s you so…”
But it’s you.
Her words vibrated in my brain, and I straightened up in bed. This was like personal knowledge. Intimate knowledge. A ‘between us’ kind of thing. A clear marker defining me from everyone at Marrs.
“Badass,” shot out of me. “That’s—uh—badass.” Fuck, don’t make this weird. “Rock on.”
What the fuck was I saying? Rock on? When was the last fucking time anybody had said ‘rock on’ unironically? I cleared my throat, trying to shove down my overexcitement at Tallulah sharing something so personal. Fuck. This was humiliating.
“You were saying,” I prompted, clearing my throat for so long, I sounded like Rat if she smoked cigars.
Tallulah giggled, biting her lip for a moment. She contemplated something, leaning back on the couch. “If I say something boring, I want you to tell me and I’ll stop.”
“You don’t bore me,” I said automatically.
“Okaaaay.” Tallulah stretched out the word, rolling her eyes with an embarrassed smile. “I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
I couldn’t imagine it. Being bored with Tallulah? How could I be? Talking to her was an endless experience of sitting on the edge of my seat, waiting for her to continue. I loved listening to her. I loved talking to her, really talking to her.
“My dad’s Diné. He lived on the rez in New Mexico, and he and his buddies decided to take their bikes to a concert in Nashville,” she explained slowly, like she was waiting for me to stop her. “On the way back, my dad got into a motorcycle accident in Oklahoma—ugh, I’m boring you, aren’t I?”
“No, Tallulah.” I shook my head, close to the phone, heart pounding. I was getting an up close and personal look into Tallulah’s life. I had to hold back the dopey grin, pleased as fuck. “You’re not boring me.”
“He broke his ankle, and my Uncle Shane—he’s not my real uncle, he’s my dad’s best friend—knew this girl on the Cherokee rez.”
“Your mom?”
“My mom’s best friend, Aunt Charlie. But she had to go to a wedding, and my mom was her roommate, and she was like, ‘okay, whatever, I’ll take care of him.’”
I chuckled. “I see where this is going.”
Tallulah sighed, embarrassed.
“Bow chicka wow, huh?” I teased her.
Tallulah collected the flowers and clicked her tongue for Rat to follow, heading upstairs. “Ugh, you should hear my parents tell it. They get way too descriptive. No, here’s the funny part…” She closed the bedroom door. “My dad’s ankle healed, and he was getting ready to leave. My mom was like—”
“A tearful love confession or something?”
“No,” she giggled. “She broke up with him.”
“What?” I said, dumbfounded.
“My mom told him that she was too busy for something long distance. She was about to go on her first tour, she didn’t want to worry about what he was up to on her cross-country trip, didn’t want to wonder if he was hanging out with other girls.
She decided to cut it off and wanted an easy way to get rid of him.
She told him, ‘either you move to my rez or we’re done. ’”
I realized where this was going. “Oh my god…”
“He showed up four days later with a trailer full of his stuff.”
I burst into surprised laughter, shoulders shaking. “You’re fucking joking—”
“No!” Tallulah exclaimed. “When he was younger, he’d sold a dozen of his guitar patents, so he had a lot of money and nothing to do all day.
I think he was bored. So he was like, fuck it.
Let’s do this.” Tallulah laughed too and then the two of us were laughing together.
“Her roommates were so mad. Until my dad offered to drive the tour bus and pay for gas money.”
“Wow. Your dad was a live-in tour bus groupie.”
She snickered. “My mom fell in love with him, and I happened three years later.”
“And everybody was cool with that? Their families?”
“Nobody was cool with it! My dad’s whole family thought he lost his mind!” She shrugged, giggling. “My parents are very stubborn. I think the more people opposed it, the more they were like ‘fuck it, we’ll prove you wrong’ and it ended up working out.”
“I wondered where you got the stubbornness from.”
Tallulah arched an eyebrow my way, daring me to continue. It was so cute. Her lips curved for another grin, like we had a secret to share.
“Everybody on my dad’s side of the family has Black-Eyed Susans in their yards and they’re everywhere on the Cherokee Reservation too. That’s why they’re my favorite.” She snuggled down in bed, relaxing on my pillow. “They remind me of home, every home I have.”
This moment felt fragile. Like a bubble.
I was enjoying myself so much, I was afraid to pop it, to watch Tallulah retreat again.
Yet there was a question at the back of my mind, an itch I couldn’t scratch.
I didn’t want to ask, but it’d been lingering ever since I saw her at the party, sitting by herself. Now I couldn’t stop myself.
“Are you homesick?” I asked softly.