Chapter 6 Lucas
lucas
Usually, when I get on the plane with my team, the first thing I do is set up the gaming station. Today, however. I’m choosing violence. “Who wants to play Monopoly?” I yell as I pull the board game out of my duffel bag.
Is my need for chaos today a distraction technique? One hundred and twenty percent. My therapy session with Dr. Williams was much needed this morning. He’s become really good at helping me not jump to conclusions.
That, mixed with the hot-and-cold of Lettie and my very fragile friendship, is confusing in the worst of ways.
Throwing hay around and singing threw me back to a time when I didn’t have to wonder.
I just knew she was my person. That she’d laugh with me while we made a mess, then would snicker with me when we got yelled at and inevitably had to clean up the mess.
As the good doctor said this morning, “Lucas, your greatest strength lies in your empathy.” My silence pulled a chuckle from him as he continued.
“Have you asked what she’s been through the last twelve years?
Did you ask why she came back all of a sudden?
Or did you just dive in headfirst and expect her to meet you there? ”
He wasn’t wrong, and damn it, I hate when he’s not wrong. So much has changed, but my feelings for her haven’t. It’d be really shitty of me to assume the same for her, though. I’m pulled out of my thoughts as I get knocked in the shoulder by one of our rookies.
“Two hundred on Andrews getting so pissed he flips the whole board,” Reed calls from his usual spot on the left side of the plane.
Once I get to the card table, I set it down and slide into the window seat that faces the front of the plane.
Sammy hops over the armrest of the aisle seat on the opposite side of the table.
The second his ass hits the seat, he’s rubbing his hands together, licking his lips like he’s looking at a filet mignon and not a board game that was created to ensure mass chaos broke out at any and every function it made it to.
I’m just taking out the money and property cards when we’re joined by Wilder, Andrews, and Wilson.
“Loser buys dinner,” Andrews says, causing me to stop separating our fake money. “What?” he asks as he takes in our sudden silence.
Wilson smacks him in the arm. “There’s only one winner, dude. Making the rest of us losers.”
Andrews huffs, crossing his arms over his chest as he flops back into his seat. “‘Kay, fact check police. The first one out buys dinner.” He turns his head to look at Wilson and sarcastically asks, “Better?”
“Who’s first?” Sammy asks as he counts the money I just handed him.
“Don’t you roll dice to decide that?” Wilder adds, not looking up as he meticulously puts his money in the order he wants and slides it under his side of the board.
Mumbled “oh yeahs” sound from around the table as we get settled in.
Wilder’s up first, and the games begin. He lands on Baltic Avenue and immediately buys it.
There are two types of people in this game: one who buys every property they land on if they can afford it, and one who takes a full lap around the board, not buying anything unless it’s a green or blue property.
Wilder is the first, I am the second, and it pisses him off every time I land on something and don’t buy it. “It’s the electric company, Monroe! Why would you not buy it?! Do you know how much money that makes you if you get both utilities?”
The corners of my mouth twitch as I pass the dice to Wilson. “Yeah, but what are the actual chances of me landing on Water Works before someone else does? Doesn’t make sense when you factor in probability.”
Samuels scoffs, “Probability? Isn’t it probable cause?”
If he weren’t so confident in his question, I’d laugh. But instead, I lean forward, placing my forearms on the table. “What do you think probable cause means, Sammy?”
His eyes roll. “The likelihood of something happening because something else previously happened, obviously.”
No one ever said we were the brightest crayons in the box, okay? “Probable cause is if the cops have a reason to pull you over, you nitwit,” Andrews says as he hands me two hundred and sixty dollars to buy Ventnor Avenue.
Samuels just shrugs. “Same thing.” He picks up the dice, shaking them between his closed hands. “Come on, ladies. Papi needs doubles to get out of jail.” The dice hit the board with a hollow thud, revealing two fours. The lucky duck. “YES! How’s that for probable cause?!”
The four of us shake our heads, not willing to start an argument over his grammar at this point.
It’s my turn, and I land on the gold mine, snagging my second blue property.
Boardwalk is mine, all mine. Andrews leans on the table, causing some of the houses on the board to start to slide.
“Bro! Stop leaning on the table, this is a delicate economy.” Wilder hisses, shooing him back.
“How do I owe nine hundred and fifty dollars?! That’s like all my money!” Andrews whines an hour and forty minutes later.
I point at the three red roofs on the space he just landed on, “That’s three hotels, buddy. Shoulda paid more attention.”
“That’s bullshit. This game is rigged,” he cries as he stands, hands knocking the board as he goes, sending it and all our pieces crashing to the floor. Would you look at that, Reed wins his bet, and the rest of us are in stitches as we pick up the carnage.
I wish I could say this was abnormal behavior, that it caught me off guard, but it didn’t.
This is just how things go when we’re traveling with the team.
Chaotic, loud, borderline feral. Maybe that’s why I love it so much.
It’s predictable. Messy, but it’s something that’s mine.
I worked my ass off to get to this level.
It’s not tainted with the darkness that most of my life has been.
I must have dozed off, because the landing nearly sends me into the back of the seat in front of me.
Wilder must have too, because a book flies into my arm as a sheepish look crosses his face.
Looking at the cover, I laugh. This book is so awful that I want to ask if his wife picked it on purpose just to drive us all insane.
“I would have passed out, too. I’ve had to listen to this one, because every time I try to read, I get so bored I get distracted. ”
He lets out a rumbling laugh before running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I think this is payback for the one Tate picked last month.”
“You alright?” Wilder asks when I don’t respond.
There’s no point in trying to hide anything from him.
We’ve been travel buddies for more than two years now.
“I’m…confused?” I huff out a laugh. He and Hannah got married a few months ago, and they’ve been off in their little love bubble.
But there’s been a time or two when we’ve been on the road that I’ve shared parts of myself with him that I’ve only shared with Scarlett.
He tilts his head to the side, waiting for me to elaborate. “Remember how I told you Lettie came back?”
One eyebrow slowly slides up his forehead, but he nods without a word.
I huff out a salty laugh. “I just don’t understand, she’s so different from the last time I saw her. With you guys, you didn’t have a choice on if you loved me or not, I kinda forced my hand.”
Laughter rumbles through his chest. “Monroe, you’re the easiest person, besides my wife, to love.”
My chest warms at that, “Right, but not the way I want, no need, to be loved.” His face softens, taking on a gentle look before I continue.
“She was my best friend, my confidant, and now she’s like this impenetrable fortress built for the sole purpose of keeping me out.
I thought we had a moment earlier today.
I saw my Lettie, at least I think I did, but just as quickly, she was gone. ”
I grab the ring on my necklace, searching for an anchor to keep me from spiraling into the pit of self-doubt.
“She may have been able to rewrite history, move past all the feelings we had for each other, the promises we made. But I’m trapped somewhere under the rubble.
How long do I wait, do I push, or do I let her come to me?
Do I just say screw it and try to forget about it all? ”
His hand lands on my shoulder. “You and I both know you won’t be throwing in the towel. I think you need to talk to her. See where she stands. Maybe work on your friendship first before trying to jump into the deep end.”
Ugh. That’s almost exactly what Dr. Williams said, too. We grab our bags as we walk down the aisle to get off the plane, but only when my feet hit the tarmac do I agree.
“You’re right, it’s just hard to reel it back in. I never had to walk on eggshells before.” I slide the ring back and forth across the chain. Taking comfort in the familiar zipping sound, I look at my teammate. “I guess old habits die hard.”
Amusement grows on his face, softening his eyes at the corner. “Come on, buddy.” He smiles as he wraps his arm around my shoulder. “Spa day’s waiting.”
My head falls back behind me, my laughter reverberating off the hangars at the small executive airport. What started as a way to get him out of his head has turned into an away game tradition of face masks and gossip, one I’m more than happy to indulge in today.
The gritty, grinding sound my skates make as I pick up speed, trying to beat the Serpents’ defender around the back of the net, is music to my ears.
If there’s one thing I think I’m better at than anyone on the ice, it's the fact that I learned from a young age to listen. I could tell you how many people are behind me, what general direction they’re in, and if they’re speeding up or slowing down without looking.
It’s one of the things that makes me so good: I listen and anticipate.
As I brace for impact against one of the defenders currently going after Samuels, who passed the puck to Wilder a couple of seconds ago, the noise changes, and the grinding becomes more intense, jagged skids mixed with harsh breaths as I lower my shoulder and knock the guy into the boards.
It’s more of the same during the third period. My mind drifts a little, picturing what Scarlett would think if she saw me play. Has she ever seen a hockey game? Is she home watching us play? Seems like a far cry, but I put a little extra effort in, just in case.
We’re up four to nothing, so our line decides to play a little game.
Cat and mouse, my personal favorite. As soon as the puck hits Wilder’s stick, he moves to the left, making Reed skate past him on the way to the back of the net.
The Serpents’ defense falls for it, and Wilder quickly twists his stick, sending the puck across the middle of the ice to me.
But I don’t shoot, no. I wind up like I’m going to, then backhand it at the last second to Samuels, who then shoots from the far right.
But in the time that the puck left Wilder, their defense is tied up.
The puck hits the back of the net in such a well-executed way that I don’t even see it go in.
I just saw the net pucker seconds before the goal horn went off.
They chirp, we execute. The best kind of mental warfare, in my humble opinion.
The final buzzer goes off, signaling the end of the game.
Final score five to zero. Coming off an away win is always a good feeling, to go into enemy territory and get the job done?
It’s a sick sort of satisfaction, like we broke into their house and took what we wanted, but did it with a smile in front of thousands of people and for millions of dollars.
What a life I get to live.