Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
THE JERSEY FAM
LOLA
“Everyone was so nice,” I say.
We’re on our way to the hockey arena for the event, and I’m still going on about brunch earlier.
“I just love your family.”
“They loved you,” he says, smiling over at me. We’re at a stoplight, and his eyes trail down the length of me. “You look damn fine in my jersey, Trouble.”
“Thanks, Captain. Number 19 fan, all the way.”
We meet up with his family inside the arena, and Tully high-fives Grayson and Chloe. Every single one of them is wearing Tully’s jersey. I’m surprised that even Kevin and Bill are here, wearing snug dog-sized jerseys.
“Looking good in those jerseys, fam,” Tully says, laughing.
“But what about me?”
We turn to see a woman in a jersey wearing skintight jeans, combat boots, a bright red bandana, and red lipstick. Another woman stands next to her, and she looks a lot like Goldie except with darker hair. They have to be Erin and Tully’s sister, Ava.
“You wear it so well,” Tully says, hugging both of them.
He turns and holds his hand out for me, and I take it, my heart thumping faster.
“This is Lola,” he says simply. And then he motions toward them. “Erin, who’s like a sister to me, and Ava, my actual sister.”
“Hi, Lola! It’s great to meet you,” Ava says.
“You too.”
“Lola, Lola, Lola,” Erin says, her hand on her hip. She glances at Tully and nods slowly. “Yep, I can see why you were such a tragic little puddle of feelings without her.”
My mouth drops, and Tully groans.
“You’ll never own a filter, will you?” he asks.
I burst out laughing.
“And why should I filter when the truth is so much more fun?” Erin grins. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Lola.” She points her thumb at Tully. “I think after Nantucket, that poor guy saw everything through slow-motion. Slogged his way through Windy Harbor like a sad puddle.”
Tully shoots Erin a look and then waves his arm. “How about we enjoy the festivities instead of talking about what a sad puddle I was?”
“Great idea,” Ava says, giving Erin a pointed look.
Erin seems unfazed, and I giggle again.
The arena is buzzing—music pumping, people milling around with drinks, and little kids running around everywhere.
There are carnival-style games set up along the far wall, a raffle table covered with donated prizes, and a giant Movember banner stretched across the boards with a cartoonish mustache on it that makes Grandma Donna laugh every single time she looks at it.
“Oh! I almost forgot!” She holds up her bag. “I brought something for all of us…everyone except Tully, of course, because he’s all set already.”
She pulls out yellow and brown knitted things—I try to make out what they are, until Dylan snorts and places the band over his head, a brown knitted mustache fitting perfectly over his top lip. She hands them out to each of us, and we crack up, taking pictures with Tully in the middle.
We play everything. My favorites are the puck-shooting game and the trivia booth. Goldie and I partner up on trivia and win a huge gift basket with candles, hot sauce, and dish towels, the oddest collection of prizes I’ve ever seen, but Goldie and I are thrilled.
It’s loud and chaotic and fun, and I have laughed more today than I have in a long time.
And then the announcement comes over the PA system.
“Folks, get ready! It’s time for the Stache & Dash Derby! Dachshunds, line up on the ice.”
I turn to look at Dylan, whose face has split into the widest grin.
“Are you ready for this, Bill?” he asks, scooping up the mini dachshund in his arms. “You’re totally gonna win.”
Bill’s the size of a loaf of bread, but his eyes scream old soul.
Everett picks Kevin up when he strains against his leash, wanting to follow Bill. “Sadly, this is not for you. Your legs are too long for this race.”
“Oh my God, is this really happening?” I ask.
Tully leans in my ear, and I feel the brush of his lips. “Get ready to laugh your head off.”
I press my lips together and shiver.
“Will you be okay for a few minutes?” he asks. “I’ve gotta say a few words.”
“Of course.”
He nods and grins.
He follows Dylan and Chloe out there, high-fiving a few people he knows.
The cuteness factor of those two tall, built men with that little girl between them is off the charts.
I watch them, pressed in between Goldie and Everett, and I feel like I might actually die from how much I’m enjoying this.
When Dylan sets Bill down, we laugh so hard at how serious the little dog looks.
The starting line is a row of dachshunds in tiny bandanas, all of them vibrating with an energy that suggests they understand this is a competition. Bill stands toward the end of the line. He’s wearing a green bandana and looks disturbingly focused for a dog shaped like a hot dog.
The horn goes off.
What follows is an unhinged thirty seconds.
Most of the dogs immediately forget what they’re doing.
One turns around and goes back to its owner.
One sits down. One discovers something fascinating about the ice approximately two feet from the start and decides to investigate.
Belly laughs ripple through the arena, people doubled over, phones out, capturing every second of the hilariousness.
Bill runs.
He is a tiny, determined, four-legged missile, slipping and sliding his way to the finish line, his little legs moving so fast they barely seem real. His ears fly back, and it is a sight to behold.
He wins, at least four feet ahead of the ones behind him.
Chloe jumps up and down, and Tully lifts her up on his shoulders when the crowd surrounds her. Dylan is holding Bill up like he’s Simba.
The arena erupts. I can tell even from here that Tully is cackling, while Bill manages to look extremely dignified.
“That’s my dog!” Dylan yells. “That is my dog!”
I am laughing so hard there are tears on my face. I glance over to see the whole Whitman clan laughing just as hard. Dahlia fans her face, trying to catch her breath. Erin does running commentary for the dogs who are still trying to finish the race.
Tully catches my eye from across the arena, his face shining bright. Someone hands him a microphone.
“We’re so glad you’re here today!” There’s a loud cheer in response.
“The Minnesota Fierce fans are the best fans in the world, and we’re so happy to share this night with you all.
This year we’re raising money for mental health and suicide prevention, and I was just informed that we’ve already raised more money today than last year…
and we’re not even done yet! Well done, Minnesota! ” he yells.
Another loud cheer.
He hands the mic off to someone else and starts walking my way, his eyes on me. I’m smiling back at him so wide my face aches, until his eyes veer from me and his smile fades.
I turn to see what he’s looking at, and Daniel is standing a few feet away.
I’m tempted to bolt into the crowd and hide, but Tully’s in front of me in the next second. Daniel’s gaze travels over and stops on me. Color climbs up his neck, his jaw tightens, and his eyes go hard.
“You okay?” Tully asks under his breath.
“Yes.”
“I’ll go sidetrack him a little,” he says. “Would you rather stay here with my family or go with me?”
Daniel starts walking over, making the decision for us. His mask falls into place, a friendly smile crossing his face. I know better.
“Tully, my man,” he says. “Lola.” He squeezes my name between his lips like it’s something sour, and I have the sudden desire to laugh. His eyes move to Tully, then back to me. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Here I am,” I say pleasantly.
He’s waiting for something—nerves, probably. I smile at him instead. Something flickers behind his eyes, and because I know him pretty well by now, I recognize the look as the fury it is.
He glances around at Tully’s family, and I don’t know how they usually react when they see him, but none of them make any effort to speak to him now.
“Great event,” Daniel says finally, to Tully, pivoting hard. “Good visibility for you. I’ll call you Monday.”
“Sure,” Tully says.
And then he’s gone, shouldering back through the crowd, and I watch him go, something loosening in my chest.
Tully’s hand finds mine.
“You good?” he says quietly.
I look up at him. His jaw is set, his eyes tracking Daniel across the room for just a moment before coming back to me.
“Yeah,” I say. I squeeze his hand. “I’m good.”
And for the first time in a very long time, I mean it.
The quiet settles around us the moment we step inside Tully’s condo.
It’s been a great night, despite seeing Daniel, but now, I’m acutely aware that all the noise that was buffering us from each other is gone.
I set my purse down. He sets his keys on the counter.
We move around each other carefully. He drops his jacket over the back of the chair and looks at me from across the room with an expression I can’t fully read.
“Can I get you a drink?” he asks.
“No, I’m good,” I say.
We look at each other. I ache to close the space between us and kiss him, but I don’t want to push him toward anything he’s not ready for. What Daniel took from us for all these years is a lot to reconcile. I want to give Tully time, or whatever it is that he needs.
“Lola,” he says. Low and quiet.
“Yeah.”
“What are you thinking right now?”
I let out a breath that’s almost a laugh. “I’m not sure you want to know.”
“I really, really do.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.” His eyes glint, and there’s a smirk on his lips now.
My eyes narrow. “What do you think I’m thinking?”
“Nuh-uh-uh. I asked you first.”
I bite my bottom lip, and his eyes track it. His mouth parts like he wants a taste.
“I’m thinking I want to kiss you so bad, but I want to give you the time you need…space to—”
He crosses the room and tilts my chin up. “I don’t want space.” His thumb traces my jaw. His eyes are dark and certain. “I’ve had years of space. I don’t want any more.”
And then he kisses me. Five years of distance, one complicated night, and every single thing we never got to say collide all at once. His hand cups my face, my hands grab the front of his shirt, and we pull each other as close as we can get.
I make a sound against his mouth. He answers it, kissing me deeper. His body presses against me until my back hits the counter, and he feels so good, so solid, so safe.
He smiles against my mouth. And then his lips are on my jaw, my neck, trailing down, and I stop thinking entirely.
We leave a trail of clothes in our wake.
My jersey drops near the top of the stairs.
He walks me backward toward his bedroom, his hands on my waist and his mouth on my throat.
I get his shirt halfway unbuttoned before we make it through the door, and he laughs quietly at my impatience.
“I’ve thought about this more than I should admit.” I push his shirt off his shoulders. “Countless times.” I press my palms flat against his chest, feel his heart under my hands, pounding fast.
Sadness moves over his expression, and then something fiercer. He undoes my bra and lets it fall, his eyes worshipful as he looks at me with his undivided attention.
“I’m not walking away,” he says. “And neither are you.”
“Never again,” I agree.
He maps me like he’s cataloging every inch of me, something he intends to remember.
His mouth pauses at my collarbone, my sternum, the curve of my breast. I watch him take in my barbells.
His tongue traces the jewelry with a careful deliberateness that pulls a sharp sound from somewhere in my chest. His hands keep me steady, and I sink my fingers into his hair and hold on.
“So fucking hot. You’re going to be the death of me,” he murmurs against my skin.
“You’re doing fine,” I manage.
He laughs low and tugs on a barbell with his teeth, and I stop being able to form sentences.
“Tully.”
“What do you need, Trouble?” he murmurs against my skin.
I pull him back up to my mouth and kiss him until I can’t think straight. The cool air hits my skin after he slides my jeans down, but his huge hands wrap around me, warming me up.
I wrap my fist around him, and he groans. I file the sound away, the way his breath goes ragged and his forehead drops to mine. He lays me back against his sheets and looks down at me. There is so much love in his eyes. This is what Daniel has spent years trying to bury.
I reach up and touch his face.
“Come here,” I say softly.
He rolls a condom on and glides into me slowly.
I pull him closer, and for a long moment we just breathe each other in.
It quickly builds, something unlocking between us, the last of the careful and the tentative falling away.
He reads every sound I make, every shift of my body, and he adjusts to what I need, until I’m breathless.
We hold each other’s gaze, and it’s almost too much with nothing to hide behind. I tip over into obliterating wave after wave, his name on my lips, and his hands anchor me through all of it. His movements stutter and he follows, his face pressing against my neck.
When he rolls off me, he tugs me against his chest, and we lie there, catching our breath. His heartbeat slows under my ear.
“I love you so much,” I say softly.
He tilts my face up, and whenever he sees whatever he was looking for, he smiles wide. “I love you so fucking much,” he says.
I let out a relieved laugh, and his arm tightens around me as he laughs against my temple. I close my eyes and want to cry, suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude.
We’ve paid a heavy price to get to this happiness, and now that we’re here, I intend to enjoy every second and never, ever take it for granted.