5. Presley
This guy is so not the love of my life.
Jeff’s coworker, Andrew, hasn’t stopped talking about the stock market since we sat down.
Who wears a suit and tie to a hockey game?
I’d rather listen to Alyssa practice the trumpet than be a part of this conversation, and that says a lot because fuck is that kid bad at the trumpet.
Dominique keeps sending me apologetic glances, and whisper-yelling to her husband about his friend, as if it’s his fault when this blind date was her idea.
But most of my attention is on the game, because the tickets Andrew got us?
Goldfinches versus Sharks.
After four years of secretly watching my ex-boyfriends through the safety of a television screen, I now have a front-row seat.
I hold my breath every time they whizz by, praying that they don’t see me—or hoping that they do. I’m not sure which scenario I prefer. Would they even remember me? Four years is a long time, and with the throngs of women who throw themselves at professional athletes, I’d probably be just another face in the crowd by now.
Andrew’s arm wraps around my shoulders as he pulls me closer to him, and the armrest digs into my ribs. “Jeff mentioned you’re a librarian. Does that pay well?”
My eyebrows hit my hairline. “Uh, it’s average as far as salaries go.”
“Are you investing for your retirement?”
Jesus Christ. I’m never complaining about Alyssa’s trumpet again.
Luckily, the Goldfinches score, so I use the opportunity to jump out of my seat with the rest of the fans. Andrew remains seated, as if he couldn’t care less about the game, but when I glance at him over my shoulder, his eyes are zeroed in on my ass.
I drop back into my seat and pretend like I didn’t hear his previous question, my gaze finding McKinley and Kellerman as they shove past each other on the ice.
Dominique’s gasp startles me. “Oh my god, look. You’re on the KissCam.”
My stomach seizes as I glance up at the jumbotron above the middle of the arena. Sure enough, my face is plastered on the screen, next to Andrew’s in the middle of a red heart.
I laugh as I shake my head, trying to signal that we’re not a couple, and we’re not going to kiss. But Andrew grabs my face with both hands and pulls me toward him.
I push both of my palms against his shoulders, trying to get out of his strong hold. “Andrew, no.”
The crowd chants, “Kiss him! Kiss him! Kiss him!”
“Ah, come on.” He waggles his eyebrows as he overpowers me. “Just one kiss for the camera.”
“I said no.” I grip Andrew’s wrists in a futile attempt to pry him off of me.
The cheering of the crowd drowns out my grunts as I say stop again.
“You’re embarrassing me,” Andrew whispers, yanking me toward him.
Then there’s a loud bang on the glass in front of us.
Andrew jumps and drops his hands, blinking up at the menacing dark gaze staring back at him.
“Get your hands off her,” Chance shouts through the glass.
Stephen crashes into Chance as he skids to a stop beside him. His crystal-blue eyes bore into mine as if he’s looking at a ghost.
I suppose he is. I’m a ghost from his past.
“Presley,” he mouths, fogging up the plexiglass.
My gaze bounces between him and Chance, and my heart leaps into my throat with the weight of both of their stares on me. Time stands still, the loud arena fading away into the background as my vision blocks out everything around us.
I swallow past the dryness in my throat, and muster a feeble shrug.
Hey, fellas. Long time no see.
Dominique’s grasp on my forearm pulls me out of the fog, and the boys are yanked back into the game by each of their teammates so the game can continue.
“What the hell was that ?” Dominique asks.
“I...I don’t know.” I shake off the shock, and shoot a glare in Andrew’s direction. “No means no, asshole.” Then I whip around to Jeff. “Will you switch seats with me?”
“Of course.” Jeff rises from his seat, and I move to the seat farthest from nonconsensual-Andrew.
Dominique watches me as I bury my nose in my phone, pretending to check to see if the kids messaged me. “Two professional hockey players just slammed against the glass to rescue you from the KissCam, and one of them knew your name. So, again I ask: What the hell was that?”
“Can we talk about this later?” I whisper, eyes darting around to see if anyone is still staring at me. “I’m about two seconds away from bolting out of here and dying in the parking lot from embarrassment.”
My cheeks burn at the thought of a student or their parents witnessing me get face-raped on TV.
“We will most definitely be talking about this later,” she whispers back.
But I can’t focus on the rest of the game. I blink as if it’ll clear my vision, as if it’ll wipe the image of them staring back at me from my mind.
They saw me.
They remembered me.
My heart surges with foolish hope, for what, I have no idea. A lot can happen in four years—a lot did happen to me in four years—and I guess I always assumed they didn’t spare me a second thought once I left them. Especially after the way I left.
After the game ends, we slowly shuffle our way through the crowd. Drunk fans cheer and get rowdy as they funnel into the parking lot, but it all sounds like muffled chatter to me. It feels like I’m underwater, submerged in my memories.
Until I hear my name.
I spin around, and I’m faced with two painfully beautiful hockey players, looking like they’re fresh out of the shower with damp hair. Stephen is shirtless—because of course he is—wearing a pair of gray joggers, and Chance is dressed in all-black, always trying to hide inside his hoodie.
They’re like yin and yang, the light and the dark. And somehow, I fit between them for a little while, soaking up the best of both worlds.
“What are you...where have you...” Stephen shakes his head. “You’re here.”
My hands shake as I tuck them into the pockets of my coat. “Hi.”
Chance folds his arms over his chest, his hardened expression giving off his usual I-couldn’t-care-less vibes, yet he’s here, standing in front of me instead of in his locker room.
Stephen inches forward. “It’s so good to see you, Presley.”
I offer him a small smile. “Is it?”
“Of course, it is. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.” He pauses. “Do you live here, in Jersey?”
“She lives down Beaker Street,” Dominique blurts out from behind me.
My head whips around to glare at her.
Stephen grins and shoots her a wink. “Good to know.”
“I’m the best friend.” She holds out her hand, and he gives it a firm shake. “Dominique.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Dominique.”
She offers her hand to Chance, but he remains unmoving like a statue, dark eyes boring into mine.
“No? Okay, then.” Dominique drops her hand and moves to stand beside her husband. “Another time maybe.”
Stephen rolls his eyes. “Don’t take it personal. He’s a dick.”
That snaps Chance out of his trance. “Fuck you.”
Stephen grins. “See?”
I can’t help the chuckle that escapes me. “Just like old times.”
Before my brain can register what’s happening, Stephen rushes forward and engulfs me in his embrace, squeezing hard and lifting me off the ground. “It’s so fucking good to see you again, pretty girl.”
“Oxygen,” I choke out, tapping his shoulder.
“Shit, sorry.” He drops me back down and holds me out at arm’s length. “I’m just happy to see you.”
“I’m happy to see you too.” My gaze flicks over his shoulder. “And you.”
A muscle in Chance’s jaw twitches. “Nice to see that you’re okay.”
I don’t miss the undertone in his words.
He was worried about me.
Of course, he was. I left without an explanation, completely ghosting the two of them.
I step around Stephen’s giant body, and move toward Chance. He doesn’t budge, but he lets me unfold his arms and step into his chest. I raise my hands around to the back of his neck, and hug him.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
Slowly, his arms come around me, and he holds me. His body practically vibrates against mine, years of anger, hurt, and confusion rolling off him in droves.
Why did I think my leaving wouldn’t affect them the same way it affected me?
People around us have noticed the two hockey stars, and we’ve garnered a small crowd.
“Can I have your autograph?”
“Can we take a picture?”
“Philly sucks!”
I pull back, and clear my throat. “You guys should head back inside before it gets crazy out here.”
Stephen holds out his hand, palm facing up. “Give me your phone.”
I dig into my crossbody bag and unlock my phone before handing it to him. He saves his number, and presses the phone to his ear, waiting until he hears several rings before hanging up.
I take it back and hold it out to Chance. He didn’t ask, and it’s a bold assumption, but I blink up at him and wait nonetheless.
And he makes me wait.
Stephen scoffs. “Just give her your number, shithead. Stop acting like you don’t want it.”
Chance snatches my phone, angrily thumbs his number onto the screen, and hands it back to me. But he doesn’t call his own phone the way Stephen did, leaving the ball in my court. Then he turns and disappears through the crowd.
Stephen leans down and presses a kiss to my cheek. “Talk soon, pretty girl.”
Warmth envelops my chest, sending little tingles out to the rest of my body. I have to bite my bottom lip to stop myself from grinning like a loon.
Dominique squeals and drags me by my elbow to Jeff’s car. “Bitch, you better start talking.”
I slide into the back seat, and heave a sigh while we wait for Jeff as he talks with grabby-hands-Andrew outside.
My head falls back against the headrest. “Remember how I told you I was with two men in college?”
Dominique spins around in the passenger seat to look at me. “ Those were the two men?”
I nod and squeeze my eyes shut.
“Holy shit. You banged not one but two professional hockey players?”
“They weren’t professional hockey players at the time.”
“What was with the tall, dark, and broody one?” she asks, arching a brow.
A small smile tugs at the corners of my lips. “He’s mad at me.”
“What did you do?”
I scrub my hands down my face. “When I got the call about Allie’s accident, I dropped out of school and moved to New Jersey to be with the kids.”
She nods, already knowing this part of the story.
I grimace. “I didn’t tell the boys what happened, or where I was going. I kind of just...left.”
She gasps. “Presley! Why?”
“What was the point? They were about to get drafted into the NHL, and it’s not like we would’ve been together after college.” I hike a shoulder and let it fall. “I had to let them go, and cold turkey was the only way for me to do it.”
I was devastated over the loss of my sister, and terrified at the thought of raising two kids on my own. I couldn’t ask the boys to stick by my side through all of that. Not when they were at the cusp of major success. They deserved to achieve their dreams.
And look at them now. I couldn’t be prouder.
Jeff gets into the car, and twists around to look at me. “I’m so sorry about Andrew.”
I wave him off. “It’s fine. It’s not your fault.”
His eyes flick between me and his wife. “Did I miss the whole conversation about what happened with those hockey players back there?”
Dominique pats him on the shoulder before tugging on her seatbelt. “I’ll fill you in later, baby.”
“Did you have fun at the game?”
I lower myself onto the edge of my niece’s bed and brush her brown hair away from her face. “I did. Did you have fun hanging with Janelle?”
Alyssa offers me a sleepy smile as she bunches up one of her many fleece blankets and rests her cheek against it. “I like babysitting.”
“You’re really good at it.”
“I think I want to be a mom someday. Or maybe I’ll just work in a school with little kids like you.”
I tuck her comforter around her. “You can be anything you want to be.”
“Did you always want to be a librarian?”
I swallow the truth and offer her something close enough to it. “I love books, so what better place to be than surrounded by them all day?”
“What book are you reading right now?”
I can’t exactly tell my ten-year-old niece that I’m reading a why-choose romance where the heroine gets railed by four dudes at the same time.
“Uh, it’s a love story.”
She grins. “You always read love stories. What’s this one about?”
“Well, it’s about a woman who falls in love with more than one man at the same time. And she has to figure out what she’s going to do about it.”
Alyssa’s eyebrows lift. “Can you love more than one person like that?”
“I think so. Love doesn’t have a limit, and it looks different for everyone.”
She hums as her eyes droop closed. “Have you ever been in love?”
My chest squeezes. “I think I was. But I was in college, so I was young.”
She peels open one eye to look at me. “Do you think you’ll ever get married?”
I let out a soft chuckle and lean down to press a kiss to the top of her head. “You always have so many questions.”
“Mom used to call me inquisitive.”
“She was right. Maybe you’ll be a reporter one day.”
Her smile fades. “I miss her.”
“I do too.” I glance at the picture frame sitting on her nightstand, tears stinging my eyes the way they always do when I think about my sister. “Make sure you always love your brother, okay? He’s going to be your best friend in life.”
“Like Mom was yours?”
I nod.
Allie wasn’t just my big sister. She was my very best friend. The one I’d call whenever I needed help or advice. When she died, I couldn’t call her to get me through it. I was alone. And it was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to go through. It’d always been us against the world growing up. When our father left and Mom had to get a second job to make ends meet, Allie was there by my side, helping me with homework and making sure I was fed and taken care of. Then when Mom died the summer before I left for college, Allie made sure that I still went, and helped me with some of the tuition.
She’s the reason I am where I am today, the reason I’m the person I am today, and I owe it to her to make sure her kids have the best life they possibly can.
“Goodnight, Aunt Presley. I love you.”
I press a kiss to the top of Alyssa’s head and whisper, “Love you most.”
I peek into Avery’s room after I close Alyssa’s door, but he’s already passed out, so I head to my bedroom down the hall.
I can busy myself with work and the kids during the day, but nighttime is when the loneliness creeps in. My thoughts and memories—of my sister, of McKinley and Kellerman, of the life I once had, of how I’m doing a shit job at raising these kids—take over my mind, making it hard to fall asleep.
But after coming face to face with the boys tonight, knowing I have their numbers at my fingertips, makes it that much worse.
Why would I call them? What would I even say? We’re in different phases of life now. Our college fling is long over. How would they fit into my life?
I shake my head and laugh at myself. Why would I think they’d even want to be part of my life?
While I lie on my back and stare up at the ceiling, my phone vibrates with a text on the nightstand.
Stephen McKinley
Sweet dreams, pretty girl.
Butterflies flit around my stomach.
I scoot up to sit against the headboard, staring down at the text.
What do I say? Why did he ask for my number in the first place? My heart thumps a furious rhythm in my chest.
But my mind quickly snuffs out the tune.
I set the phone back on my nightstand and try my best to fall asleep.