Chapter 33
thirty-three
INDIGO
I’m not sure my feet even touch the ground as I walk from Sebastian’s car up to the front door of my little rental. My lips tingle from the way he just kissed the hell out of me, and I’m pleasantly sore after he woke me up to some of the best sex I’ve ever had.
If he didn’t have practice and I didn’t need to get some work done on this manuscript, I don’t think either of us would have left the bed.
Careful not to disturb Lola and Megan if they’re still sleeping, I tiptoe into the house and quietly lock the door.
“Good morning, my fellow sex goddess.”
I jump, letting out a startled little shriek at the very loud greeting, and turn around to find Lola doubled over in laughter in the kitchen. “Dammit, Lols. Not cool.”
“Sorry, boo. I thought you saw me in here.”
“Obviously not. I was trying to be quiet in case Megan was still here.” Glancing around, I don’t see any sign of her, but I don’t want to assume and say something embarrassing. “Is she?”
“Nah. They had an early practice this morning,” Lola says, turning her back to me for a moment before she slides a mug of coffee toward me across the kitchen island. “Unfortunately.”
“So how did things go?” The mug is warm against my hands, and I groan in satisfaction when I take the first sip. “I’m assuming well with all the sex-goddess talk.”
“Girl. Well doesn’t even begin to cover it.” Lola sighs dreamily, color rising in her cheeks. “I think I’m in love.”
I almost spit out my coffee, but thankfully keep it in my mouth since I’m wearing Sebastian’s nice button-down shirt over last night’s dress. “I’m sorry, what?”
“She’s so fucking hot, Indie.” Lola wanders into the living room, mug in hand, and curls her legs beneath her on the couch. “And she’s smart. Really smart. And the sex?” Lola fans her face. “Life changing.”
Settling in next to her, I grin at my bestie. “That good, huh?”
“You have no idea.”
“I might.” My core chooses that moment to throb, as if in agreement.
“I love this for us,” Lola says, resting her head on my shoulder. “Both of us getting pounded into the mattress by hot hockey players. We’re living the dream, bestie. Living the dream.”
I laugh, but she’s not wrong. It’s been my dream for as long as I can remember, and it’s finally coming true. “You two going to see each other again?”
“Yep. And she’s trying to get us tickets for one of their home games for this round of the playoffs.”
“That’s amazing, Lols.” I rest my head against hers and smile like a fool. I’m so happy. And to see my best friend happy too? It doesn’t get much better than this.
“I’m going to send Griffin flowers or something. I owe that guy.”
“Something tells me it’ll be enough for him to know it went well. Bash says he’s a big softie and that he has a whole shelf full of romance novels.” I wonder if he’s ever read one of my books?
“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me,” Lola says, chuckling.
“Right?”
“So, what’s the plan today? You gonna go to the coffee shop and do some writing?”
I take a sip of my coffee and nod. “Yeah. Want to come with me? You can bring your laptop and do your work there too.”
“Sure. I could use an excuse to get out of the house. Plus, I have energy to spare after last night. It will be nice to take a walk.”
I shift in my seat, hoping I’m not too sore for a walk. Guess we’ll find out. “Cool. I showered at Bash’s, but I need to change. Give me twenty minutes, then we can head out?”
Lola laughs. “Sounds good. Go change out of your walk-of-shame outfit.”
“You mean walk-of-success outfit?”
She laughs even harder. “Hell yeah, babe. That’s exactly right.”
The walk to the coffee shop is so familiar by now that I could probably do it with my eyes closed. The warm early June weather and fully green trees, along with the bright pops of colorful gardens in so many of the yards we pass, have me enjoying it more than usual.
Did I ever savor a walk to a cafe like this in LA? I don’t think I did. Not with always needing to look over my shoulder, thanks to insatiable paparazzi with no respect for privacy or personal boundaries.
I don’t miss it. For the first time in so long, I can breathe.
“What would you think about extending our stay?” I ask Lola as we walk the last few blocks to The Bean House.
“If you hadn’t suggested it, I was going to,” Lola says brightly. “I’m in.”
“Are you sure?”
“Hell yeah. I’m having fun here. Sebastian’s friends are awesome, and I want to see where things with Megan go.” She smiles at me. “Plus, I haven’t seen you this happy in…well, maybe ever. No way are we leaving right when things are getting good.”
Relief washes over me in warm waves, and I inhale deeply. I hadn’t even realized I was holding my breath. “Thanks, Lols. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Become a hermit and never leave your house, most likely.”
“Probably.” I get to the door of the coffee shop first and hold it open for her. “I’d have a hundred cats, piles of old newspapers, and one day they’d find my partially eaten corpse because the mail had been piling up for weeks.”
“Girl. That’s dark.” I follow Lola into the shop. “But probably accurate.”
A few heads turn our way when she laughs brightly, but I don’t pay them any mind. Not like I would have in LA. Instead, I head over to the counter where the barista greets me with a smile and asks if I want my regular.
I have a regular order.
It brings me a stupid amount of joy, and I can’t stop smiling as we carry our drinks over to a little table in the corner.
“How’s the manuscript coming?” Lola asks as I get my laptop set up the way I like. She does the same, though I know she’ll spend the first fifteen minutes of her day scrolling social media so she can stay on top of any emerging trends she can use for the brands she works with.
“Really good, actually. I’m ahead of schedule.”
“Wow, Indie, that’s amazing.”
I’m pretty good about keeping up with my deadlines, but sometimes the inspiration flows more easily than others.
And ever since we ditched LA for Minneapolis, the words have been flowing.
I don’t know if it’s the change of scenery or reconnecting with Sebastian, but whatever it is, I hope it doesn’t end.
If I can keep this pace going, I’ll be able to get a head start on my next project.
“Do you have ideas for your next story?”
My face heats. “Maaaybe.”
“Wait,” Lola says, chuckling. “Let me guess. It’s a hockey romance.”
“I know, I know, but I’m inspired. It’s all I can think about.
” Outside of my little self-insert fanfic, I have never written a hockey romance.
It felt too dangerous. Like if I wrote it, I’d be more likely to be found out.
It also felt like a jinx. The way you never tell someone what you wish for when you spot a shooting star or blow out birthday candles.
Because if you say it out loud, it won’t come true.
But now that my wish is finally coming true, all I can think about is using my experiences with the guys on the team and the games I’ve been to as inspiration for a new book that just happens to star a hockey-playing male lead.
“Fair enough. I’m sure your publisher would go for it. Sports romances are always hot.”
“Yeah. But for now, I need to focus on finishing this one. And I need to decide if I’m going to reveal my identity.
” The thought doesn’t scare me the way it used to.
Because I’ve always had Lola at my side, but now I have Sebastian too.
And his friends and teammates. I may not know all of them super well, but I can tell they’re the kind of people who would have my back.
It makes the idea of revealing my identity feel like less of a risk.
“You’re considering it, aren’t you?”
“I am. I still have reservations, but I think it may be time.”
“Girl, I am so proud of you.” Lola reaches across the table to give my hand a squeeze. Her smile lights up her whole face, and it makes me feel like I can do anything.
I can take charge of my life and career and reveal my secret identity on my terms and my timeline.
“You going to tell your little crab boy first?”
An image of a smiling Sebastian fills my mind, and I grin. What will he say when he finds out I’m Violet Quinn? I’m the author the local bookstore has been trying to set up an event with for years.
“Yeah. Soon. I’ll tell him soon. Elise is going to be thrilled.”
“She’s going to pop a bottle of champagne. She’s only been trying to get you to agree to this for years.” Lola pulls her phone out. “Now, let’s get to work. Because I don’t know about you, but I want to see my hockey player later today when she’s done with practice.”
“Lola Pierce is smitten with someone,” I say, my cheeks sore from smiling so broadly. “Who would have thought?”
“Yeah, yeah. Get to writing, Violet.”
“It’s weird when you call me that.”
“Better get used to it. Lots of people will be calling you that once you reveal your identity.”
“It’ll still be weird then.” I often wonder how long it took Bruce Wayne to get used to being called Batman.
“You’ll live. Now, shh, so I can scroll social media.”
I chuckle quietly as Lola begins to tap away at her phone, and I re-read the last chapter I wrote to get back into the flow of my story.
The hero and heroine have given in to their feelings, now, blurring the lines between real and fake in a way that will come back to bite them in the butt at the seventy-five-percent mark.
But for now? For now, they’re blissfully happy together, caught up in the high of new love and really great sex.
They’re so happy, I’m almost sorry for what I’m about to put them through. Almost.
“Oh,” Lola murmurs. When I look up, she’s scrolling through posts with a strange look on her face.
“What’s up?”
When she meets my gaze, my stomach does a little flip. “There are some photos online from after the game last night.”
The little flip turns into a barrel roll. “Okay…photos of what?”
“Of us,” she says, clearing her throat. “Me with Megan. Us with the whole group. You and Bash all cuddled up and looking very lovey-dovey.”
I try to keep my breathing calm and steady. This isn’t a big deal. I knew that, at some point, someone would snap a photo of us and it would probably end up online. This isn’t the end of the world. “Did they recognize and name me?”
Lola shakes her head, her eyes scanning the comments under the photo. “No, but they want to know who you are. I guess this isn’t the first photo someone has posted of the two of you together. And Sebastian is rarely photographed with women. Let alone the same woman multiple times.”
Right. Of course, they’re curious. That’s natural.
“Don’t worry, babe. I doubt anyone will figure out who you are. And even if they do, it’s not like we’re in LA. You won’t have people following you around with cameras. They may be curious, but they’ll be respectful. This is the Midwest.”
The problem is, it doesn’t matter what part of the country you’re in.
The US has a toxic celebrity culture that’s only gotten worse with the proliferation of social media and parasocial relationships.
People think they’re entitled to know every detail about your life, simply because you’re famous or famous-person adjacent. And they can be invasive.
“Yeah, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
Lola nods. “Exactly. But you may want to give Sebastian a heads-up. Just in case.”
“Right.” I pull my phone out of my pocket with trembling hands. “Just in case.”
“Hey. It’s going to be okay. And you know attention is inevitable once your publisher reveals your identity.” Lola gives my hand a squeeze.
“Yeah, I know. But that will be on my terms. This…”
“This isn’t.”
I nod.
“It will all work out.”
I hope she’s right.
It takes a few tries to type out my text to Bash because my unsteady fingers keep hitting the wrong keys, and I have to keep deleting and retyping the message.
He won’t be able to answer right away, because he’s in practice, but even typing it all out and knowing he’s in this with me makes me feel marginally better.
The urge to take my phone out and search for photos of Bash and me is intense, but I have words to write and deadlines to meet. I can’t let something silly like this derail me. So I take a deep, slow breath, hold it for ten seconds, release it to a count of six, then I begin to write.
The words don’t flow as easily as they did the other day, but eventually I block out the intrusive thoughts trying to override my creativity, and by the time we leave The Bean House, I’ve written a chapter and a half.
When a few people glance our way on the walk home, I tell myself it’s because of my pink hair or Lola’s extreme shortness. It has nothing to do with the photos of Sebastian and me online or the fact that my parents are world-famous movie stars going through a very public divorce.
Bash is well known in NHL circles, but he’s no movie star or rock star. I doubt people will care who he’s dating. I’m nervous about nothing.
Still, I keep my head down for the rest of the walk home and only breathe deeply once we’re safely shut inside.