Chapter 5
POT, MEET KETTLE
LYDIA
Dottie, Ron, and I leave the suite and head down to the tunnel where Fletcher will come out. Calvin appears first, stopping to give me a quick hug.
“Good game,” I tell him.
“Thanks. You coming out tonight?”
“I’ll be there.”
“Great. Fletch wanted me to tell you he’d be out soon. See you there!” he calls as he walks toward his family.
His parents and sister are here, as well as Zoey, his friend’s sister. Adam, his best friend, plays for another team.
I chat absentmindedly for a few minutes with Ron and Dottie, ignoring the nagging in the back of my mind that knows what’s waiting for me at home.
“Lydia!” Fletch calls and wraps his arms around my waist from behind, lifting me and spinning me in a circle.
“You were amazing!” I squeal as he sets me down on solid ground. A wave of dizziness and nausea overtakes me, but I shake it off. Thankfully, Fletcher doesn’t seem to notice.
“God, it feels good to get back on that ice.” He pulls me back in for another hug, and his familiar scent soothes the sickness in my stomach. Fletcher rests his cheek on top of my head, breathing me in.
“I bet it did.”
Exhaling, he pulls away from our hug, reaching out for his parents. I step to the side, letting them embrace and catch up for a moment.
“Are you guys coming out tonight?” Fletcher asks.
Ron laughs. “You can’t be serious. We aren’t going to party it up with a bunch of you hooligans. No way. A bed is calling my name.”
“Alright, alright,” Fletcher replies with a low laugh. “Are we still on for lunch tomorrow?”
“Absolutely,” Dottie says. “Lydia, are you coming to lunch?”
I shake my head. “I work a half-day tomorrow. I took the morning off since I knew we’d be out late tonight.”
We talk for a few more minutes until Calvin yells that it’s time to head to the bar down the street. After we say goodbye to Dottie and Ron, Fletcher takes my arm, leading me down the hall.
“I can DD tonight.” Even if I wasn’t sure I was pregnant, I’d offer to drive. After a game like tonight, Fletcher deserves to let loose and have fun with his teammates.
“You sure?” Fletcher opens the door for me.
The October air has a chill to it, but it’s not bad yet.
“Positive.”
Fletch wraps an arm around me as we pass a group of people, and I reflexively lean into him. He’s always been my rock, always there for me when I need him most, no matter what.
Part of me wants to spill everything to him. I know he’d support me either way, but I hold back. I need to find out for myself first, and then I can tell him. I already told Dottie, and I probably shouldn’t have.
The crowded bar fills with cheers as the players arrive. It’s like this after every game. People know and expect the players to come here and party, so they’ll stay late to party with them.
Fletcher leads me to the back corner, where they have reserved a few booths and tables for us. I sit across from Calvin’s younger sister, Grace.
“What do you want to drink, Lydia?” Fletcher asks.
“Water is fine.” I pour a glass from the pitcher in the middle of the table.
“You can have one drink, Lydi.”
I scoff. “I know, but I already had one at the game, so I’m good. Water is fine.” I take a drink to reiterate my point.
Fletcher raises one of his eyebrows. I’m sure he suspects my lie about having a drink at the game.
“Are you feeling okay?” He sits beside me, resting his hand on my forehead. “We can go home if you need to.”
“I’m fine.” I shrug his hand off and laugh awkwardly. “I don’t need a drink every time we go out.”
“I know,” Fletcher replies defensively. “You love the seltzers here, so it’s weird for you not to at least have one.” He holds my gaze.
It’s annoying how easily he can see right through me, and his sincerity makes me want to cry. He’s such a good friend.
“I promise I’m good, Fletch.”
“Alright. If you change your mind, just give me a shout.”
“I will.”
He gets up and heads to the bar, leaving Grace and me alone.
“He’s right, you know,” Grace says with a laugh. “You love their seltzer.”
Groaning, I take another drink of water. It feels good against the sudden dryness in my throat. “I do.”
“So, why not have a drink?”
“It’s a long story.”
Grace nods. She may be one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met. She knows when to push and when to hold back. Tonight is definitely a night to hold back, and she’s taken the hint with ease.
“Thank you,” I breathe, wiping my curls from my face.
“You know where to find me if you ever need to talk, but I’m not going to force it out of you.”
“I appreciate you,” I say just as Calvin drops into the seat next to her.
“Where’s Zoey?” he asks, glancing around.
“Vincent works in the morning, so they went home.” Grace sips her drink.
I’ve been around Calvin and his family and friends long enough to know that none of them like Zoey’s fiancé, Vincent. As long as Zoey is happy, they’ve promised not to intervene.
Calvin hums something under his breath.
Grace shoves him. “She’s an adult. She can make her own decisions.”
“I know that,” he replies, pinching the bridge of his nose.
She huffs. “Sometimes I think you forget that we aren’t kids anymore.”
Before they can continue the conversation, Fletcher drops into the seat beside me, setting his large beer onto the table.
“Levine has already found his conquest for the night,” he says, gesturing to him.
Jamie Levine, one of the rookies, is leaning into a young girl's personal space, one hand on her hip, and she looks like she’s loving it. She’s leaning right back, her eyes locked on him as she hooks one hand around the back of his neck.
“It appears he has,” Calvin says. “Are you on the lookout tonight?”
I know it shouldn’t bother me, but I hate it when Fletcher talks about women with the guys.
We aren’t together. We’ve never been together and never will be.
I have no right to get upset, but I do. Fletcher has never been one to flaunt his dates or hookups, though.
I can’t remember the last time he went on a date.
Not that I can talk. I’m likely pregnant with another man’s baby. Talk about being a hypocrite, Lydia. Pot, meet kettle.
Fletcher immediately shakes his head. “Nope. Are you?”
Calvin shrugs, glancing around the room. “Nope.”
He changes the subject, and an hour and a half later, both Fletcher and Calvin have a good buzz.
Fletcher is three drinks in, and Grace and I have been chatting off and on about life, but I’m exhausted.
It’s nearing midnight, but knowing these guys, they could be out till bar close and not be tired.
Fletcher wraps his arm around my shoulder, leaning in close. “Lydi-bug, you okay?” His eyes are hazy, and his breath smells of beer.
“I’m good. Are you having fun?”
“Sooo much fun,” he slurs. “I wish you were drinking with me.”
“Next time.” I pat his firm chest.
Fletcher rests his forehead on mine. “Wanna dance? Then we can go home.”
“Sure.” I’m not going to say no to going home. We stand, and Calvin glances up at us.
“We’re going to dance, then head out,” I say. “Do you or Grace need a ride?”
Calvin shakes his head. “Nope. Grace is my ride. I’ll see you at practice tomorrow.”
“You got it.” Fletcher gives him two finger guns, and he gives Grace a high five.
“Okay, big guy,” I say, pulling him from the table, “let's get your dance on.”
“You know…” He hooks his arm with mine.
“What?”
“You know I love you, right?”
We step onto the small dance floor, where a few people are dancing to a slow country song.
“I love you, too,” I say as he spins me into his arms, swaying.
Fletcher groans, and maybe he’s more drunk than I thought. “No, Lydi, like, I love you. You’re my best friend.”
“You’re my best friend, too,” I answer, my heart pounding. “I think you’re a bit drunk.”
I laugh. He’s joking. He doesn’t know what he’s saying. God, he’s so drunk.
Fletcher nods, resting his head on my shoulder. “Yeah. I still love you, though.”
“I still love you, too, Fletch.”
My heart skips a beat. He’s my family, my person. We sway back and forth to the beat of the song. The way he’s holding me sends a flutter through my system. I always feel so safe when I’m with him. No one looks out for me the way he does.
This proximity to him and the way his hands are trailing up and down my back sends a wracking shiver through my body. This feels different than normal, but I can’t figure out why. Maybe it’s because he’s drunk. That has to be it.
The song ends, and Fletcher squeezes me tightly.
“Home?” I ask, squeezing him back.
“Home,” he answers, the slur even more prominent.