Chapter Fifteen
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
VIVIAN
S o, the secret is out.
Not that it was ever really a secret. Or was it? I don’t even know anymore. Everything feels like a blur, like I’m watching my own life unfold from the outside.
Mac sounded really upset when he called me, his voice full of frustration and disappointment. Kyle’s strong reaction has me perplexed too. I never thought he’d go against his ride-or-die, not when it comes to something this personal. But maybe I shouldn’t be so surprised. Kyle has always been protective of me, just like he is with Katie. I appreciate it, but in this case I’m not sure it’s necessary. Then again—he knows Mac better than anyone.
And I still haven’t heard from Katie. I wonder if Kyle has filled her in. My stomach is in knots at the thought, because this is something she should hear from me. But Kyle has never been one for keeping things to himself, so I have no way of knowing if the damage is already done.
I force myself to focus on work, but it’s a losing battle. My thoughts keep going back to Mac and the serious edge in his voice when he asked if I believed he was being sincere. I was honest with him—I had doubts at first. And if he had asked me before his spontaneous ice cream delivery, my answer would’ve been different. But something shifted after his conversation with Kyle. I could hear it in his voice—he meant what he said.
And if he didn’t, he deserves an Oscar.
Somehow, I make it through the rest of the workday, though I have no idea how. Everything feels like it’s happening on autopilot, and all my tasks somehow got completed. But my mind is miles away.
By the time I finally step outside, the sun is already dipping toward the horizon, casting an evening glow over everything. I slide into the driver’s seat and check my phone one more time. Still nothing from Katie.
Enough is enough. I can’t keep waiting around for the other shoe to drop.
Taking a deep breath, I call my best friend, bracing myself for whatever is about to happen.
"Hello?" she wails, her voice hoarse and scratchy, barely above a whisper.
"Hey," I say. "Are you okay?"
"I'm siiiick," she moans, dragging out the word dramatically.
"Oh, no. Did you eat at Dallin’s sushi restaurant?”
She lets out a raspy laugh, but it quickly turns into a hacking, phlegmy cough. She sounds awful.
"No way," she manages to choke out.
I sigh in relief. "Do you need anything? I can bring you some soup or a diet coke."
"It's okay. My mom already brought me some." She sniffles. "And Dallin is taking good care of me."
Of course he is.
"Okay, well…let me know if you need anything else," I hesitate .
She obviously hasn’t heard about Mac and me yet. And honestly, now probably isn’t the best time to bring it up—not when she sounds like she’s on death’s doorstep. After the way Kyle reacted, I have no idea how she’ll take the news, and the last thing I want is to send her into a tailspin when she’s not feeling her best.
A deep, chest-rattling cough erupts from the other end of the line, and I cringe.
"Alright, I’ll let you go," I say quickly. "I hope you feel better.”
She barely mumbles a response before more hacking takes over, so I end the call.
It feels strange not telling my best friend about my date tonight. This might be the first time I’ve ever kept something this big from her. And yet, something tells me waiting is the right move. At least for today.
My typical routine prior to an evening with a new man is standard—hair, makeup, and multiple outfit changes. Plus a few texts and phone calls to Katie. Tonight feels different in so many ways. I’m going out with someone I’ve known for years, yet it’s still a first date. I’m not counting the spur of the moment evening of watching hockey in my pajamas.
Anyway, I only change my outfit once and I’m strangely unbothered by what the evening holds. I don’t feel any urgency to impress him, and I wonder if he’s feeling the same way. Considering his presence used to irritate me to my core—this is a surprising new feeling.
While I’m getting ready, I decide to do something I never thought I’d do—I turn on a hockey game. Confession—I didn’t realize how violent this sport could be .
I’d heard stories of brawls and players losing teeth, but wow some of it is brutal. And it looks hard—especially the goalie position. And I totally get the hype of the fans because Mac is good. I thought some of it was due to his inflated ego, but it’s not. He’s dynamic, and it makes sense why his fans support him the way they do. I’m still not planning to tell him any of this tonight because he doesn’t need anyone else encouraging him.
I’m ready to go when Mac arrives, my pulse kicking up just a little at the sound of the doorbell. I take one last look in the mirror, smoothing my black romper and adjusting the pink sweater draped over my shoulders, just in case the restaurant is chilly. My silver sandals add just the right amount of sparkle.
I open the door to find Mac standing there, hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable.
“Hi, you’re actually here,” he says, a smile forming on his face.
I raise an eyebrow. “Yes…I live here.”
He shakes his head with a chuckle. “I know that—I meant you being here now.”
I tilt my head, giving him a curious look. “Did you think I might stand you up?”
He shrugs. “You never know.”
I smirk. “Fair enough.”
Stepping aside, I gesture for him to come in. As he walks past me, I catch a whiff of his familiar scent—clean and a little woodsy. I could get used to this.
“Are you feeling any better?” I ask, closing the door behind him. “You weren’t exactly happy this morning.”
He exhales heavily, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “Better now. I talked to some of my teammates, which helped. ”
I nod, sensing there’s more he isn’t saying. “Did you hear from Kyle?”
His jaw tightens as he shakes his head. “No.”
I hesitate. “Well, Katie’s sick, but she didn’t mention anything, so I’m assuming Kyle hasn’t told her about your conversation.”
He nods. “I was wondering about that.”
I offer a comforting smile. “I’m sure you guys will work it out. You and Kyle are bros for life or whatever you call it.”
Mac makes a face. “We don’t say that anymore. And I’m surprised you remember.”
“Oh, I remember,” I say, pausing. “It was annoying.”
He snickers. “Come on, no way.”
“Sorry, just speaking the truth.”
He grins, his shoulders relaxing a bit. “I know. I appreciate that about you.”
“Even when I call you out for being annoying?”
“Yep. It’s good for me to be reminded that I’m not as great as everyone thinks I am.”
I cross my arms. “Wow. Look at you. You’re really evolving.”
He smirks. “I’m trying.”
“We all have things to work on,” I assure him.
Mac claps his hands together. “On that note, shall we go?”
“Let’s do it.” I grab my bag, my pulse kicking up again as I follow him out the door.
I never expected to be here, going on a date with this person—this guy who’s somehow been in my life forever and yet never in this way. But maybe the unexpected turns out to be exactly what I need.
I can’t stop laughing. Mac is in full storyteller mode, entertaining me with tales from his hockey career—wild locker room antics, nail-biting games, and even a few epic on-ice brawls. His enthusiasm is contagious, and I find myself surprisingly captivated by this world.
“It sounds like you are part of an amazing team,” I say, still smiling as I take a sip of my drink.
He nods. “I’m very lucky. I consider my teammates brothers…just like Kyle.”
The mention of Kyle shifts the energy between us.
“I understand,” I tell him. “I’m closer to Katie than I am to my own sister. We’re both lucky to have them in our lives.”
He exhales, his fingers tapping the side of his glass. “Yeah. That’s probably why the conversation with Kyle bothers me so much.”
I purse my lips, unsure of how to respond. Sometimes, words aren’t enough to fix things. I want to remind him that people say things they don’t always mean, and that friendships go through rough patches. Although I don’t want it to sound like a lecture.
“Anyway, enough about that,” he says abruptly. “I want to hear about you. What have you been up to all these years?”
I let out a small laugh. “Oh, you know…nothing as exhilarating as playing professional hockey.”
His eyes stay locked on mine, waiting for me to talk about myself, so I give him the basics. “I’m still working in finance, and I love it. I also do Pilates and spend time with friends…”
As I list the pieces of my life, I realize how boring they sound in comparison to his adrenaline-fueled career. I don’t have any crazy, larger-than-life stories to share .
“Have I put you to sleep yet?” I tease.
Mac shakes his head. “Not at all. Why?”
I shrug my shoulders. “You asked about my life, and…there’s not a lot to tell. I stick to a routine most days.”
“Routines are important,” he says. “I like hearing about your life— Pilates, friends, all of it.”
I snort. “Sure.”
He’s quiet for a few seconds. “Let me ask you something—do you enjoy what you do?”
“Yes.”
“Are you proud of what you’ve accomplished?”
I hesitate for only a second before nodding. “Very.”
“Then that’s what matters.” He leans forward, his gaze intense. “I had a coach who used to always say, ‘When passion meets effort, greatness follows.’ You have passion for what you do, so there’s no need to compare your life to anyone else’s.”
I blink as I take in his point of view. “Have you ever thought about being a motivational speaker?”
He laughs. “Never.”
“You should consider it if the hockey thing doesn’t work out,” I tease.
Mac snorts. “You obviously haven’t seen me play enough. Speaking of which—we really need to work on your hockey knowledge.”
I sigh dramatically. “You’ll be happy to know I actually watched some highlights today.”
His mouth drops open. “Highlights—of my team?”
Feeling slightly embarrassed, I cringe. “Yeah.”
Mac’s whole face lights up. “Okay, this is the best news I’ve heard in a very long time.” He leans in again, more eagerly this time. “Now, tell me what you think—and don’t hold back. I can handle all the compliments and criticism. ”
I fold my hands and rest them on the table. “I never hold back—you should know that by now.”
“Oh, I know,” he says, his voice warm with amusement.
And just like that, the tension from earlier is gone. Our banter picks up, and I can’t help but think that something about this—fits.
I try to gather my thoughts, but they’re all jumbled. Before I know it, I start firing off questions one after another. “Is all the gear you wear heavy? Do you ever get scared of serious injury? Have you ever been in one of those brawls?”
Mac holds up a hand, a grin spreading across his face. “Whoa, slow down.”
“Sorry—I have a lot of questions,” I say, feeling slightly embarrassed.
His grin widens. “Don’t apologize—I’m thrilled you’re so interested. It’s about time.”
I roll my eyes just as the server arrives at our table. We pause our conversation to order our entrees. As I glance across the table at Mac, I catch him staring back at me. There’s something surreal about sitting here with him, like we’re both still trying to wrap our heads around the fact that we’re here, together.
“Is this weird?” Mac asks, as soon as the server leaves.
I tilt my head. “Us having dinner or us getting along?”
“Both. Either.”
The funny thing is it doesn’t feel weird anymore. A few weeks ago, maybe, but not now.
“Not really,” I say honestly.
Mac nods, slowly. “I don’t think so either.”
The way he’s looking at me sends a shiver down my spine. As we chat through dinner, the conversation flows effortlessly, free of awkward pauses, light and easy like old friends .
After dinner, we take a walk along the river. The boardwalk is alive with people, laughter, and the distant sounds of a street musician playing his guitar. The scent of the water drifts through the air, and I’m reminded how much I love summertime.
“I can’t remember the last time I was here,” I say, looking out at the reflection of the city lights on the water.
Mac raises an eyebrow. “Really? You don’t come here every weekend?”
“Not in a while,” I say. “I’m not even sure why.”
He stuffs his hands into his pockets, his gaze flicking around as he takes in our surroundings.
“Do you miss living here?” I ask.
He exhales. “I miss some things—the familiarity, the memories. I guess I miss the people more than the place itself. After being on the road so much, you learn to adapt. I think I could be happy anywhere if I have people I care about.”
My heart flutters in my chest. “I agree.”
He glances sideways at me. “And what about you? Ever think about moving somewhere new?”
I hesitate before answering. “Yes, actually. My parents sold their house and downsized. They’re loving their new area. They play pickleball and go to social events with new friends.”
“So what’s stopping you from making a change?” he asks, turning to face me.
I let out a puff of air. “I guess nothing—other than my own stubbornness. I would like to travel more.”
Mac shifts, turning to walk backward in front of me. “I have the perfect idea for your next trip.”
“Oh? What’s that? A visit to the hockey hall of fame?”
I don’t even know if there is a hockey hall of fame or where it might be located.
“Oh, that’s an idea,” he exclaims. “But I was thinking you should come see one of my games. You’re overdue for the full experience of hockey in person.”
I blink. Is this really happening? He’s inviting me to come watch him play.
“That’s one idea to consider,” I say after a few seconds, clearing my throat.
“I usually have good ideas, but this might be my best yet.”
Mac is saying all the right things, and while I believe he’s changed, there are still some doubts in my mind. But it could be my stubbornness and fear of letting my guard down.
“I’ll think about it,” I say, tucking my hands into my coat pockets. “Maybe Katie and I can take a road trip to Tennessee.”
“You should,” he says, eagerly.
“Although I’m still not sure if I’m a Tennessee Wolves fan,” I tease. “There are other teams, and since I don’t have an allegiance, I should probably do my research.”
Mac stops walking and looks at me in horror. “Wow…that’s just wrong. Besides I already know you’re a Wolves fan.”
I smirk. “Oh yeah? What makes you so sure?”
“I saw it the other night when we were eating ice cream. You were hooked.”
I cross my arms. “Are you sure about that? Or is that just what you’re telling yourself?”
He slows his pace then stops directly in front of me, his eyes locked onto mine. My pulse picks up almost instantly.
“I guess it’s wishful thinking,” he says, his voice low.
Another shiver runs down my spine. “Oh yeah?”
He reaches for my hand, his fingers threading through mine. His touch sends a dizzying rush through me, making my heart pound against the walls of my ribcage.
“Yeah,” he murmurs.
He steps closer, the world around us fading into the background. His gaze drops to my lips, and before I can fully process what’s happening, he lifts my chin with a gentle touch.
Then, his lips find mine.