34. Lottie
thirty-four
Lottie
Mom wants me to take the blame for everything and make a statement.
I refuse. With Ty working, I need something to do to keep my mind busy, so I spend the day with Maddie, finally having time to catch up with her.
We make pizzas for lunch, and my favorite recipe of cereal bars.
It’s the one where I substitute crispy rice cereal for Cinnamon Toast Crunch, and I call them goat bars.
I can’t even look at them without smiling, and it turns out being exactly what I need.
Before I know it, it’s almost time for the game, and I’m giving her a ride, which works out well because I no longer want to go with Ham.
After he helped walk me out of my job, I haven’t spoken to him.
I’m not mad at him, but there’s a disappointment I have to deal with.
True to fashion, as soon as we try to leave, Toast has it out for Maddie, trotting in a circle like he’s about to lose his mind when Maddie shuts the door, closing him out.
I run around like a crazy person to corral him and the other goats, rounding them up and getting them safely into their pen before we head out.
The gate isn’t busted this time, but somehow they just got it open.
Someday scientists will study their escape skills.
I’m completely out of breath when I return to my Land Rover.
“Sorry about that,” I say, fastening my seat belt and starting the engine. “They don’t attack everyone . Just people they like. And Uber drivers.”
Maddie laughs, a little nasally, like it’s stuck in her sinuses. “In that case, I feel so honored.”
I back out of my spot, turning around in the wild grass in front of my house, then steer down the dirt road. “Also, sorry if this is rude, but are you sick? I noticed earlier you sounded plugged up.”
“Nope. Allergies.” She waves a dismissive hand. “Your yard is basically trying to kill me.”
“Oh, no. I apologize on behalf of all the flowers. I totally agree they are excessive.” I steer around the bend in the drive and pull onto the main road.
Maddie turns to me with a small smile. “So, have you thought any more about what to do for a job?”
I stare through the windshield. “I don’t have one.”
“That surprises me a little.”
I shake my head. “Truthfully, all I ever wanted was for my mom to be proud of me. I had a mission in life; do what she said. It’s crazy, but this is the first time I’m thinking for myself about my career, and my brain is blank.”
Maddie tilts her head, studying me. “It can’t be totally blank. There must be something you’re thinking?”
I exhale, not holding back “Well, this week all I can think about is Ty.”
“Ohhhh,” Maddie draws out the word like it helps explain everything. “Now you confess.”
“And it’s freaking me out,” I add. “I’ve never been like this before.
Maybe it’s worse because he’s here for a short time, and I know he’s headed back to Minnesota.
I can’t help but think maybe getting fired is my ticket—to not only do something for me, but to figure out a way to live close to Ty.
Of course, I have not told him yet … it’s way too soon. ”
Maddie smirks at me. “For what it’s worth, you two are stupid cute.”
My heart flutters as I think about the photo I’ve saved as my phone wallpaper, and I grin. I have a lot of decisions to make in a short amount of time, but going to the game tonight puts things into perspective. This is what I want to do tonight and every night. Show up for my boyfriend.
When I walk up to the arena wearing Tyson’s jersey, it takes all of three seconds to know this is better than any confession or public statement I could come up with.
Sure, it’s not exactly a WAG jacket, but with only one game left, it’s too late to buy one.
I tug the hem down over my hips. It’s so large, it hangs almost to my knees.
Wearing it proudly, I get in line with Maddie by my side.
Just as I expected, the stares start instantly. People whisper, a few point discreetly, but I catch them anyway. With the number of glares I’m receiving, you’d think I’d shown up in my birthday suit.
“Just keep walking forward.” Maddie nudges my elbow and smiles.
The whispers grow louder, but my heart ticks out a steady beat.
This is right. I’m choosing to live my true self.
After we pass through the ticket gate, Maddie leaves to find her seat with the Stripes’ fans.
Going in the opposite direction, I nearly run straight into someone.
Instinctively, I cover my face, expecting a verbal attack.
When nothing happens, I lower my hand and blink in surprise.
And not the good kind. My entire body tenses.
“Are you kidding me?” I whisper, glaring at the traitor.
Ham grins, planting his feet in front of me, blocking my path. “You really thought I’d let you do this alone?”
I shake my head, wishing I could kick him in the shin like when we were kids. “You escorted me out of my job this morning!” Emotion surges so fast it tightens my throat. “You really thought I’d let you sit by me?”
“I was doing what I had to do to get you safely away from Mom. You know it was time. If you’d stayed any longer, she would have yelled and made a scene.
” His gaze drops to the jersey then lifts to my eyes.
“I’m here now to support you,” he says simply.
“And Ty. Work is work and that’s business.
You guys are family. If you and Ty want this, I’m here for both of you. ”
“Well, technically, work is family too, because it’s Mom,” I grumble.
“Come on, Lottie. I’m not letting you do this alone.
” He looks toward the door and the screaming crowd.
Then he turns back to me, opening his arms for a hug.
“Truce?” He’s not an affectionate guy. We aren’t like that.
We are more siblings who are rivals. I’m so touched that he’s stepping into this drama for Ty and me that I hug him hard, right there in front of everyone.
Until someone elbows me hard in the back.
“Ouch.” I startle and look around. People are piling in, and it’s getting close to puck drop. I flick a finger toward the rink. “We better find our seats.”
We don’t speak as we walk together, finding our places as the players spill out onto the ice for warm-up. Ty skates out last, the C on his chest catching the light. My chest flips as it always does when I see him looking so hot. Only now, I don’t fight it. I smile and absorb it.
In all the years of hanging out with Ty, I didn’t pay much attention when he’d ramble on about hockey. I regret that now because I don’t know what’s going on.
The puck drops.
I know that much.
Someone from the Stripes team grabs it, and the crowd roars.
I lean forward, trying to follow the blur of motion.
The Stripes score first. It’s clear this arena doesn’t have any favorites tonight—half of it cheers while the other half boos.
I’m not normally vocal, but I sort of love the booing, and I join in.
Then something happens fast. One of the Stripes players appears to mess up, and a Star player rockets the puck into the net. I jump to my feet with everyone else, cheering. I understand when a goal is made.
I focus in on Ty, who slams his stick against the ice. I’m so glad to witness this in person. It totally beats stealing glimpses on my phone.
The first period ends with a lot of shoving that looks like it should be illegal but apparently isn’t. No one goes to the penalty box. I assume it’s fine. I hold on to my phone during intermission, thinking maybe Ty will text me, but he doesn’t. Clearly, he has a game to focus on.
Ham leans over and casually asks, “Do you think Mom is watching the game at home?”
“Ah, no,” I scoff. “Why would you even think that?”
“I told her I was coming with you. She didn’t say anything, but you know how she is. If she can’t win, she’ll find a way to get even.”
“She’ll never watch a hockey game.” I actually giggle, as that’s the funniest thing I’ve considered in a long time.
When the second period begins, so does my emotional turmoil.
The Stripes score again. And again. And again . I’m pretty sure that’s the technical way of describing it. It’s basically a commercial for how great their team is.
The arena is screaming, but I sit back down with the score at 4–1 and my optimism wobbling. I want Tyson’s team to win. Regardless, I’m so proud of him and the way he carries himself.
I watch the puck move from one team to the other, and then one of the guys gets tripped with a stick. Even though I’m pretty sure it was an accident, a fight breaks out.
Helmets fly off. Everyone around me jumps to their feet, screaming like fighting is the main event.
I scan the crowd for half a second. When I look back, three guys are tangled together.
Eventually, the refs pull them apart. There’s more booing and cheering, and I’m not sure who won the fight—or if I’m supposed to boo or cheer—so I bite my tongue.
After that the momentum shifts, which leads me to believe the Stars maybe won that fight, because they start scoring.
Pretty soon the board says it’s 4–4. I’m on my feet again, yelling Tyson’s name like he can somehow pick my voice out of twenty thousand people.
My heart motors so hard. I just know this is their comeback. Everything falls into place.
Oh—nope. I thought too soon. The Stripes sneak in one more, and they go into intermission with a 5–4 lead.
I exhale shakily.
“It’s just a game,” Ham says. I’d almost forgotten he was sitting next to me, and I give him a side-eye.
“Maybe for you, but I want Ty to have this victory after everything I put him through this week.”
It’s his turn to side-eye me. “You really think that?”
“What do you mean? Why wouldn’t I want him to have this win?”
He rolls his eyes dramatically and leans in like he’s giving me sage advice. “I’ve known Ty for as long as I can remember. He wants to win, but even if he doesn’t, he already got what he truly wanted this week. Believe me, he already feels like a winner.”
I don’t know what to say. Again, Ham and I aren’t usually the kind of siblings who are this supportive. We usually trade insults. Maybe with all the changes I’m making, it’s time for me to change our relationship too. “Wow, that’s a nice thing to say.”
“It’s the truth.”
I swallow that statement and it settles deep and feels good. I value the truth so much, and I vow to always tell it. No more lies.
Time to turn my focus back on the game. The third period starts with a huge disappointment—the Stripes score again. My heart drops to the floor. I want this win for Ty.
But then something amazing happens. The Stars answer back, and somehow we score two more times after that and tie it up.
It’s so exciting, I stay on my feet. I don’t know why I never watched hockey before.
This kind of action is incredible. Right as time is expiring, something even more incredible happens—our goalie launches himself across the ice like a human miracle and stops what everyone around me swears would’ve been an empty-net goal.
The buzzer sounds and we’re tied heading to overtime!
I don’t leave my seat while the guys regroup.
I don’t even think I blink. I wait as they reset the clock and play resumes.
Someone on our team goes to the penalty box almost immediately.
Ham mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like a prayer.
Apparently, whatever is happening is bad.
But then—
It’s an explosion, and my eyes can’t keep up. A shot is blocked. There’s a pass I almost miss because I’m gripping Ham’s arm so tight he yells at me. One of our guys tucks the puck in the net so cleanly it takes half a second for my brain to catch up.
The fans are in a frenzy.
I’m at a loss.
Until I check the scoreboard: 7–6. “Is it over?” I squeeze Ham’s arm again. “Did we win?”
“Yeah, the Stars won.” A wide smile stretches across Ham’s face.
I scream and wave my arms, trying to get Ty’s attention as the Stars players pour off the bench and onto the ice. My eyes lock on Ty as he removes his helmet and skates straight toward the pileup; victory written all over his face.
Unable to handle the excitement, I press my hands to my face. The applause doesn’t stop. When Ty finally comes out of the pile at center ice, he lifts his glove toward me—and then his eyes find mine.
I sink into the softness of his gaze, and everything else disappears.
I’m no longer hiding anything.
The smile he gives me makes everything worth it.