2. Chapter 2
Chapter 2
Luke
The following day, I return to the doctor’s office to retrieve my car. For the past twenty-four hours, I’ve done nothing but think about my future. Of course, I’d always known there was the possibility that my hockey career would crash and burn; after all, so many do. But after a lifetime devoted to nothing but hockey, I’m not sure where to go from here.
I still haven’t told anyone that I’m throwing in the towel, but the whole world already knows. I’m yesterday’s news. One minute, I had it all: adoring fans, millions in sponsorship deals, and a popstar girlfriend who craved the spotlight even more than me. The next minute, it was all gone. Ladies and gentlemen, Luck Donovan has left the building.
I decide to take the back way home, down a long and winding Scenic Byway through the rolling hills of Kentucky, passing countless horse farms with majestic animals running on lush fields of bluegrass. When I first moved to Lexington, I was surprised to discover that so much time, work, and tender loving care goes into raising thoroughbreds. With horses valued at hundreds of thousands or even millions of dollars each, owners leave very little to chance. Everything is carefully managed and maintained, down to the last blade of grass in the pasture. Special scientists even monitor the soil .
I’ve spent my entire professional career here, and I’ve come to adore this lovely state. Lexington Thoroughbreds Hockey has a devoted fan base, especially considering that hockey isn’t widely played here. Kids in Kentucky grow up playing basketball, football, and soccer. Not hockey. Outside of the major cities, it’s hard to even find a decent skating rink, and the ponds don’t freeze enough to skate on in the winter. But Kentuckians love to root for their home team in any sport, and we had a good stretch where we dominated in the NHL. With four Stanley Cup victories under my belt, I was on top of the world.
Now, I’m at rock bottom. And Kentucky no longer feels like home.
With a sigh, I tap a button on steering wheel and say, “Call Lindy.”
My sister answers on the third ring. “What’s up, big brother?”
I roll my eyes. She always calls me big brother even though we’re twins. “I’m only six minutes older,” I point out for the millionth time.
She ignores me. “I guess you’ve heard Gemma’s news?”
My eyebrows climb in surprise. “Gemma? No, I haven’t heard from her in months.”
“Oh,” my sister hedges. “Well, never mind then.”
I sigh. “What is it, Lindy?”
“It’s been flooding social media all morning. She’s apparently engaged to marry the country singer. Toby Maguire or whatever his name is.”
“Toby Maguire?” I laugh, but it sounds hollow to my ears. “I’m pretty sure she’s not marrying Spiderman, Lindy.”
“Are you sure? With a name like Toby Maguire, he was destined for the neon lights.”
I appreciate my sister’s attempt to lessen the blow with a joke, but the news is still a punch in the gut. Not because I’m hung up on Gemma. We had a long-distance relationship and seldom saw each other due to our busy schedules. We certainly weren’t going to be heading down the aisle anytime soon. But it’s one more example of my life crumbling to dust around me.
“Stop wallowing,” Lindy says as if reading my mind. “She wasn’t the one for you.”
“It’s not that,” I say slowly. Taking a deep breath to steel my nerves, I add, “It’s over, sis. No more hockey for me.” There. I’ve admitted it aloud to another human being, and the world didn’t end.
“I’m sorry, Luke. Really, I am.” She’s silent for a moment, and I know she’s tying a piece of her thick auburn hair into a knot the way she always does when she’s uncomfortable or doesn’t know what to say. It’s a habit she’s been trying to kick since elementary school. “What can I do?”
“Help me find somewhere to live.”
She gasps. “Are you finally coming home?”
“I’m coming back to Fog Harbor,” I confirm. Though I’m not sure it’ll feel like home anymore. “There’s nothing here for me now. And I miss your pickles.”
She laughs. “I know you’re teasing, but I’ve perfected my dill-jalapeno pickle chips. You’re in for a treat.”
“I may not be good company for a while.”
“You’re always grumpy after an L.”
An L . Her words hang in the air between us, and I know she’s adding another knot to her strand of hair. She’s not wrong. This is the biggest losing streak of my life.
I force a laugh to break the awkward silence. “Mom will be furious.”
“Absolutely,” Lindy agrees. “ Now, you move back ,” she says, perfectly imitating our mom’s high-pitched voice. “ After Dad and I have packed up our stuff, sold the house, and moved to South Florida?”
“Stop. You know your Mom impression freaks me out.”
She laughs, but her voice returns to normal. “So, about me helping you find a place to live. What are you looking for?”
“Peace and quiet. Solitude. A cabin deep in the woods or something.”
“Are you sure? You’ve always been, erm, surrounded by people. Can you survive on your own?”
“Can I survive on my own?” I repeat. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I didn’t mean anything negative,” she says quickly. “I just don’t want you to be lonely.”
“How can I be lonely with a nosy sister who lives in the same town? And I’ve been thinking about getting a dog.”
She squeals with excitement.
“Ouch,” I say, holding the phone away from my ear. “I’d like to note for the record that you weren’t so excited when it was just me moving back to Fog Harbor.”
Lindy sings the chorus to Who Let the Dogs Out , barking like a lunatic into the phone.
“I just said I was thinking about getting a dog,” I remind her. “I haven’t decided yet.”
We chat for a few more minutes before saying goodbye. Then I do a U-turn in the middle of the road and head back to town to find the nearest animal shelter. There’s no harm in a bit of window shopping, right? I’ll just take a quick look today.