28. Long Time Coming
CHAPTER
LONG TIME COMING
ADAM
“What are you doing?”
I shift my reading glasses up my nose and flip the page. “Reading.”
“I know that,” Garrett grumbles. “But reading what?”
“A book.”
He pins his arms over his chest and slumps in his plane seat. “You’re so annoying sometimes, you fuckin’ turkey.”
I smile to myself, sticking a blue tab to a passage in my book.
Riling up Garrett is fun. He starts spewing all kinds of weird, colorful insults, most of them picked up from Jennie, who also likes to rile him up.
For different reasons than me, though. Something about hand necklaces and other shit I’d rather not know.
“What’s that you’re doing there?” Jaxon gestures at the tabs I’m sticking in my book. “With the tabs?”
“It’s called annotating,” Carter answers for me, pulling a box of Oreos from his bag.
“Oooh, fudge dipped. Fuck yeah, Ollie.” He rips open the package and tosses one in his mouth.
“Aw-wie does it wif her spicy books.” He swallows the cookie so he can talk like an adult again.
“She marks out all the sexy stuff she likes, and then we try it. Like this blindfold—”
“No.” I hold up a hand. “Stop. I hate how much I know about your sex life.”
Jaxon frowns. “So, you’re marking sexy shit to try with Rosie?”
“No, I’m—”
“Cara bookmarks porn she likes,” Emmett says. “That’s kinda like annotating, but with a movie, not a book.”
“What? No, that’s not the same—”
He smiles, a far-off look in his eyes. “Last week, she came out of the bathroom wearing this leather—”
“For fuck’s sake, I don’t want to know about any of your sex lives!”
“Whoa,” Garrett murmurs, eyes wide. “Someone’s testy.”
Carter licks at the icing on a new cookie. “’Cause he’s not gettin’ any right now.”
“He smashed through all of my condoms in one night and now he hasn’t had sex in three weeks,” Jaxon adds unnecessarily.
Emmett pats my shoulder. “It’d make the best of us grumpy.”
“Holy fuck.” I tuck my book away; clearly reading’s not happening anymore. With my MacBook and AirPods, I stand and point to an empty seat down the row. “I’m gonna watch a movie.”
“Have fun looking at pictures of Rosie,” Garrett calls as I walk away.
We’ve been on the road for three days for our first two preseason games in Edmonton and Calgary, and Garrett’s been my unlucky roommate.
No, wait. I’m
the unlucky roommate. He came back to the room one night and found me looking at all the pictures Rosie’s been sending me of her and Bear while he’s been recovering from surgery at the school clinic, and I came back to the room one night to him furiously scrubbing a mess
off the carpet while Jennie was cackling at him over FaceTime. He screamed at the both of us that he’d scored a goal and deserved to let loose, even though it was only an exhibition game. Which scene would you rather come home to?
Popping my headphones in, I open my laptop and pull up my message thread with Rosie.
Our preseason started the day after Bear’s surgery, but knowing Rosie would be there every day to give him lots of love made it easier to get on the plane.
The pictures and videos she’s been diligently sending don’t hurt either.
I pull up my favorite one, sent this morning.
Rosie smiles at the camera, bright and happy. “Let’s go see if Bear is up.”
She pushes through a set of swinging doors, and his head pops up from his bed. Slowly, he gets to his feet, tail whipping back and forth, thudding against the wall of the oversized kennel.
“Look at you, big boy,” Rosie coos, propping her phone up as she gets down on her knees, burying her fingers in his fur.
Bear wastes no time covering her face in kisses, and she giggles, hugging him close.
“Do you wanna tell Daddy how much you miss him?” She points at the camera as Bear gives a little woof.
“Say, ‘I love you, Daddy.’” He barks again. “That’s my handsome boy.”
A text cuts across my screen, and I sigh at the interruption from my publicist.
Angie
She’s called me three times today, Adam.
There’s no name, because Angie knows we don’t say it when we can avoid it.
You’d think blocking her number not once, but twice, and telling her to never call me again would do the trick, but after Courtney called me that night at Rosie’s, in the middle of all the chaos, she resorted to calling Angie.
The woman hasn’t been in my life since I tossed her—and the guy she was fucking—out of my bed over a year ago, and suddenly she wants to chat.
I don’t have the time of day for her, and I certainly can’t be bothered to see her again.
I still cringe at the thought of her in my kitchen that morning in July, wearing nothing but my T-shirt, acting like she belonged there, claiming she’d been at my party the night before.
Drunk Adam doesn’t always make the brightest decisions, but Drunk Adam has never made an oopsie that size.
Me
I don’t want to talk to her.
And I’ve told her that. Approximately 25,000x. Honestly, Adam, how you were ever with this woman is beyond me. No offense.
I could swear up and down that Courtney was nothing like this at seventeen, but the more reflecting I do, the more signs I see that I didn’t before.
Still, on my bad days, I sometimes wonder if I’m responsible, if I didn’t love her the way she needed to be loved, if the hockey made me too absent.
All the same fears that led to my downfall, to the lies I never should’ve told Rosie.
I think you should meet with her. Hear me out.
Abso-fucking-lutely not.
I know, I know. But she says she’s got something you’d want to hear.
That’s bullshit. What could she possibly have to say that I’d want to hear?
I agree, but I also know you like to stay out of the media when it’s not hockey or fundraising related, and I wouldn’t put it past her to drag you into something if she wants your attention that badly.
So I say we meet her somewhere public, I do the talking, and we give her five minutes, nothing more.
Courtney has embarrassed me enough in the media, but nothing is worse than the hurt it causes, knowing that after all we’ve been through, all the years I gave her, she cares so little for me that she would go to such great lengths to tear me down in whatever way she can.
Like all she wants to do is wreck everything I’ve worked so hard for, take away this life I’ve earned.
So I agree to five minutes, not a single second more, this Saturday. I just want this over with.
Tension stacks in my shoulders, so tight it curls me forward. I roll my neck, but the stiffness has already dug its claws in. My fingers move on their own accord, hitting that Video Call button, and my knee bounces as I pray for it to connect.
Rosie’s face fills my computer screen, and I melt into the seat.
“Hey,” she greets me quietly, a spark of hesitance in her eyes. Through all the messages since Bear came out of surgery, we haven’t spoken face to face.
“Sorry for calling so late.”
“It’s okay. I just climbed into bed two minutes ago.
” She looks like an angel, lit only by the glow of her phone, pink waves scattered around her face, the sleeve of her oversized sleep tee hanging off one delectable shoulder.
“Congrats on your…oh God, this is going to be so embarrassing. I know this is wrong, but I know it’s close. Shut-up?”
I bark a laugh, and she blushes my favorite blush. “Shut out
.”
“I told you it was gonna be embarrassing. But it still made sense in my head. You didn’t let in any goals, so it kinda shuts up the other team, you know?”
“I like it. Petition to change it from shutout to shut-up.”
“I know you’re just placating me, Adam Lockwood.”
“And I know I’m in trouble when you or my mom use my full name.” I smile at the way she giggles. “Did you watch?”
She nods, brushing her bangs back. “Both games. Carter Beckett is really fast. And Jaxon likes to fight a lot, which I wasn’t expecting, given that he fell head over heels for a cat at first sight, called him Mittens, and then adopted him.”
“He hides his soft side behind tattoos and punches.”
“And you, you were so…” She blows out a breath, eyes widening. “ Big
. I didn’t think you could get any bigger, but you really did. And, um…flexible. I mean, I knew you were flexible, of course.” Her eyes widen. “Oh God. That’s…that’s…” She swipes a hand through the air. “Just never mind me.”
Christ, she’s so damn cute, I’d give anything to pull her into my arms right now. “I, uh, called because I…wanted…to…” Tell you I love you and I’ve hated every single minute apart from you?
“Thank you. For taking care of Bear.”
“You don’t have to thank me for that, Adam. He makes school better, getting a hug and kiss whenever I want.”
“That’s why he looks so smug in all the pictures you send me, huh?”
“You know I can’t say no to him. Plus, he’s thriving on all the attention. He’s got the girls here wrapped around his paw.” A rustle draws her gaze away from me, and then she dives under the covers with her phone. “Oh shoot. I’m waking Connor. I better get going.”
“I’ll see you in the morning? When I pick up Bear?”
“I’ll be there, Adam. We’re so excited to see you.”
We’re
. The single word sends my stupid heart into a tailspin, and I fixate on it for the rest of the flight, and two hours later when I’m lying awake in bed.
When I’m walking into the clinic after breakfast the next morning, spinning my keys around my finger and whistling, the six-word sentence is still playing on repeat in my head.
“Mr. Lockwood,” the receptionist greets me. “It’s a beautiful day to bring home a happy, healthy pup.”
“It definitely is.” I slide a box of donuts onto the desk. “These are for everyone.”
“We love donuts. I’ll let them know you’re here.”
A woman walks out from the back a minute later, and she most definitely doesn’t have pink hair. “Come on back with me. I’ll walk you through what to expect from Bear’s recovery at home.”