26. Lucian
LUCIAN
I t’s game night and we’ve all filtered into the locker room when Coach strides in, clipboard in hand. But instead of his usual pregame talk, his expression is serious.
“Before you all get into gear, I have an announcement. Simpson’s off the team. Effective immediately.”
The silence that follows is deafening. Then Cade lets out a low whistle. “About time.”
“Management reviewed game footage after receiving multiple complaints,” Coach continues. “What we found was a pattern of targeting his own teammates. Simpson’s been putting careers at risk and that’s not something I’ll tolerate.”
My teammates glance at me, knowing I’m the one who’s had the biggest target on my back.
“Simpson caused several incidents over the past few months,” Coach says. “Including the hit that injured Lowe—completely preventable if Simpson had done his job instead of pulling back.”
Carson shakes his head in disgust.
“This kind of behavior doesn’t just get you kicked off our team—Simpson’s been reported to the league.
His reputation will follow him wherever he tries to play next.
Turns out when you make enemies of your own teammates, word gets around fast.” Coach looks around.
“Anyone else have questions about what loyalty means on this team?”
Dead silence.
“Good,” he says, a smile curving his lips. “Now I finally have the team I want. Let’s go play some real hockey.”
As Coach leaves, the locker room erupts in celebration. “One less distraction,” Weston says beside me, echoing my thoughts exactly.
Jamie grins at me. “What goes around comes around—and it’s about time.”
As I take out my skates, my phone buzzes, and I see Northwest Development & Real Estate flash on the screen. I almost let it go to voicemail, but I’ve been waiting for Dad’s answer about Maple Lake for a week, so I step out of the noisy locker room into the hall.
“Lucian.” Dad’s voice sounds tired when I pick up and all I can think is how his heart is failing him.
“Dad. What’s wrong?”
“I wanted to let you know—I talked Simpson out of buying that lake property.”
I stare at the wall. “He removed his offer?”
“Yeah. The land can’t be commercially developed anyway. Environmental protections. I told him he’d be throwing his money away on a property that would never get permits. Figured you’d want to know.”
“I wasn’t even sure you were going to do this.” It isn’t like him to get involved in something that wouldn’t directly benefit him.
“You asked me to prevent him from buying it,” he says. “This heart condition has given me perspective I wish I’d had years ago. I’m trying to make better choices while I still can. Besides, you mentioned someone special, so I knew this was important to you.”
“Neesha is everything to me,” I admit, leaning against the wall. I’m not sure what’s brought on this shift in my father, but if he’s serious about changing, maybe I can ask for something bigger—something that would protect the place Neesha calls home.
“Dad, have you heard about the situation in Maple Falls with Alexander MacDonald? He’s claiming ownership of almost half the town because he’s related to a man who settled here long ago.”
“I’m aware of it, yes. It’s been all over the news.”
“His lawyer, Jeremy Hunt, is using aggressive tactics to push through what’s essentially a takeover of community land assets—including part of the downtown and the bookstore where Neesha works, and some of the property the arena sits on.
They’re banking on the town not having the resources to fight back properly. ”
“What does this have to do with Northwest Development?”
“You have the legal team to challenge questionable claims like this. From what I’ve heard, MacDonald’s case has holes—there are environmental and historical protections and some of the land has been in municipal use for decades.
Hunt’s being aggressive because he knows if anyone with real legal firepower pushes back, their case falls apart. ”
My father is suddenly quiet.
“All it would take is your company challenging their claims. Hunt would back down once he realizes he’s facing a real legal team instead of a small town with limited resources.”
“You’re asking me to go to war with another businessman over property claims,” he says slowly. “That’s not typically how my company operates.”
“I know what I’m asking, Dad,” I say, then pause. “Would you at least think about it?”
He lets out a sigh. “I’ll see what my legal team can do, but I can’t promise anything.
” In the background, I hear him shift in his chair.
“Lucian, the fact that you’d call me, ask me for help after all the strain between us…
that says something about the ma n your grandfather helped raise.
” His voice grows quiet. “Which makes what I did to him even worse.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“You haven’t heard the whole story,” he says wearily, then hesitates.
“I convinced him to invest everything, then pushed him out when the company took off. I told myself it was just business, but it was because I didn’t want his interference.
I was afraid he’d press me to make decisions that would cost the company too much money.
Instead, it cost me the best man I ever knew. ”
This is the first time he’s ever admitted what really happened—the first time he’s taken responsibility for his actions.
“And now, with this heart condition, I keep thinking about all the time I wasted. I can’t make things right with your grandfather anymore…
but it’s not too late with you.” Papers rustle in the background.
“Which is why I’m transferring your grandfather’s investment back to you with interest. It’s what he should have had all along. ”
I lean my head against the wall, stunned. “Are you sure? That’s a lot of money, Dad.”
“The money was never mine to begin with. I’m just sorry I couldn’t make it right while he was still alive to see it.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
He sighs, then takes his time before responding. “Lucian, I know we haven’t been close lately…but would you consider letting me visit?”
When I don’t answer, he adds, “I’d like the chance to learn more about your life, if you’d be open to it?”
I recall Grandpa’s words about hope being the only thing that keeps us moving forward when everything else falls apart. Maybe that’s what I can offer my father now—hope that it’s never too late for a second chance.
“I’d like to try,” I say, hesitant, but hopeful about reconciling with my father. “Do you have Thanksgiving plans? ”
“Not yet,” Dad says, and for the first time in years, he sounds like a man who just got his life back.
Just then, Jamie steps out from the locker room. “Lowe, you ready?”
I nod. “Dad, I need to go. We’ve got a game tonight.”
“Good luck, Lucian. I’ll be watching on TV.”
“Wait—you watch my games?” I ask, surprised. My father never attended my hockey games in high school. He was always too busy working.
“I’ve watched all season. I had no idea how good you are. I only wish your grandfather could see you now.”
I smile to myself. “Me too, Dad.”
When I head back into the locker room, the guys are talking about season stats while I sit on the bench, staring into my locker.
“Hey, Lucian, you planning on joining us tonight for the game, or are you just here to model the uniform?” Asher teases.
I rub my forehead. “Sorry, just trying to get my head in the right space.”
“Uh-huh,” he says skeptically. “And does your distraction have something to do with a certain cupcake baker?”
“Not this time. My dad just called—said he might actually come visit. Even admitted he watches all my games.”
“That’s huge, man,” Cade says. “Speaking of people who should be watching—when is Neesha finally coming to a game?”
“She’s making cupcakes tonight, and honestly, I think she’s hesitant to step back into this world.” I stand, closing my locker door. “This is my dream, not hers.”
Even though I don’t want to pressure her, the fact that she hasn’t come feels like there’s a piece of herself she’s still holding back. And after what she told me at the lake, I want all of her. I want the whole world to know how much I love Neesha Gilmore.
Weston turns to me. “You know,” he says casually, “the funny thing about dreams is that sometimes they change when you’re not looking.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Just that people surprise you sometimes. Look at the door.”
I turn, and my heart stops. Standing in the doorway is Neesha—wearing my jersey, my name across her back—her smile lighting me up inside.
I throw off my gloves and cross the room in three strides, not caring that the entire team is watching.
When I reach her, I sweep her up into my arms and spin her around, her feet flying through the air as she laughs against my mouth.
Then I’m kissing her—not holding back anything now—while her arms lock around my neck like she never wants to let me go.
This is the kiss I didn’t know I needed. The assurance that she’ll show up for me, love me for exactly who I am, hockey player and all.
When I finally set her down, we’re both breathless and grinning like idiots.
“You came,” I say, still holding her tight.
“I wouldn’t miss it,” she says, smoothing down her jersey. “Though I have to admit, wearing your name on my back feels pretty incredible.”
I laugh, pressing my forehead against hers. “Ready to watch me play?”
“I’ve been ready,” she says, and the way she looks at me—like I’m her hero—makes me feel like I could take on the world.
“I’m going to teach you to love this game,” I whisper against her lips.
“I already do. Because I love you, ” she says, then her eyes widen when she realizes what she’s admitted in front of everyone. “I mean, that is…what I meant was?—”
“I love you too,” I say, loud enough for the entire locker room to hear.
The room explodes in cheers and whistles .
“Finally!” Carson shouts. “We’ve been waiting for you two to figure it out!”
“Oh, thank goodness,” she breathes, putting a hand on her chest. “Because that would have been really awkward to take back.”
I laugh, cupping her face. “I don’t want you to ever regret saying you love me.”
“Never,” she whispers, and when I kiss her again, this time it’s soft, lingering, tasting like vanilla and all the things I love about Neesha Gilmore.
I can’t seem to pull away, stealing another kiss, then another, memorizing the feel of her lips against mine and wishing that I didn’t have a game so I could do this all night.
“Lowe’s got game on and off the ice!” Cade says, while the room erupts in whistles.
“Hey, Lowe,” Jamie calls out, “save some energy for the actual game!”
“You should probably leave,” she laughs against my lips, but instead of pushing me away, her hands linger on my chest. “Win for me tonight. I’ll be here when it’s over.”
“Neesha, I want you here for everything—wins, losses, even when my teammates inevitably embarrass me because I’m completely gone for a cupcake baker.”
She snort-laughs. “Speaking of being gone, I had no idea how good you’d look in uniform. Almost as attractive as when you’re shirtless fixing Mimi’s house,” she says, then her eyes widen in horror. “Oh my gosh, did I just say that out loud?”
The locker room explodes in laughter.
“She’s got excellent taste,” Asher says.
“I like her even more now!” Cade adds.
I grin, pulling her close and kissing her forehead. “They can handle it. So just to confirm—no more practice dates?”
“Definitely not,” she says, her cheeks still pink.
“Thank goodness. I was running out of excuses to need coffee every morning. ”
“Well, your girlfriend will be making you coffee from now on,” she says, testing out the word with a shy smile.
My girlfriend. The words make me feel like I could fly.
“Come on, Lowe!” Jamie shouts from the doorway. “You can make out with your girlfriend after we win!”
“Go,” she says, giving me a gentle push. “There’s more of this waiting for you after the victory celebration.”
I start walking backward, never taking my eyes off her. “You know what? I think I need more practice at this boyfriend thing.”
She beams at me. “Lucky for you, I’ve had an excellent teacher.”
“And I’m a very dedicated student,” I call back as the guys drag me toward the tunnel.
The last thing I see before heading out to the ice is Neesha in my jersey, blowing me a kiss that I swear gives me superpowers.