Chapter 5
Lola
Randie is out like a light before I even get her in her crib.
I consider just keeping her on my shoulder and sitting in this rocking chair until the sun comes up, but I shouldn’t.
And I can’t. Landon, Callan, and Grady will all worry.
They already think I’m being a bit insane.
So I lay her gently in the crib, press a kiss to my fingers before pressing them to her forehead, and then quietly inch out of her room.
I leave the door ajar and head to the living room, where the guys are digging into the fresh fruit flan I picked up at my favorite vegan bakery in Portland.
“My god, Lo, this is to die for,” Landon raves as I walk past him at the table and grab a fork and plate from the kitchen.
“It’s vegan and as healthy as a dessert can be. Wouldn’t want you guys to fail out of training camp or whatever.” I cut myself a slice and head into the dining room, dropping down in the seat next to Callan.
“How did the breakup go?” Callan asks.
I chew longer than I need to and decide to change the subject swiftly. “Uneventful. You know what was eventful? Finding Theo Richard in the bathroom at the Riptide’s rink afterward.”
Landon and Callan’s jaws both go slack. Just as I suspected, they didn’t know he was practicing at their team rink, which also means they don’t know the rest of what Grady explained to me on the ride home.
That means talk of my love life has definitely been tabled.
Thank God. I take another bite and pretend not to notice the WTF glare Grady flashes me.
My brothers snap their heads to the giant ginger, who huffs and puts down his fork. “I invited him to practice a little while I waited for Lola. Coach suggested it. He knew, from my aunt and uncle, that Theo’s living in Portland now.”
“Why would Coach want him to skate at the rink? I thought Theo was retired?” Callan questions, and his eyes, the same color as mine, get wide as he waits for an answer.
“He didn’t retire, he just didn’t find a team to take him,” Landon clarifies, and then his gaze shifts to Grady. “Or has that changed?”
The room gets deathly silent. It’s like everyone is holding their breath, and then I realize that I actually am. Of course, the guy who got so drunk he outed my brother on a fucking Instagram live isn’t going to play for the Riptide. Grady shrugs. “Coach Larue sent him a tryout contract.”
“No!” Callan barks and stands so abruptly his chair scrapes loudly across the floor. I shush him so he doesn’t wake Randie. “I’m not fucking playing with that asshole.”
“That asshole is my cousin,” Grady says in a voice so calm and so level it’s almost offensive.
“About that,” I chime in. “How is he your cousin? I mean, you’re a Garrison, and he’s a Richard. And I get that his mom is related to Tate Garrison’s mom and also to Conner Garrison’s step-mom, but not to your mom or your dad. So he’s not your cousin, by blood.”
“There’s more to life than blood, Lola,” Grady replies. “His dad was basically raised by my grandparents along with my dad and uncles.”
“Your loyalty is misplaced.” Grady glares at Callan, and I know he’s hit a nerve in a man who usually appears not to have any. “Landon is my actual blood brother, and I don’t like what Theo did to him. Or to you, FYI.”
“I appreciate your allegiance, Cal, but I’m okay,” Landon replies. “We weren’t hiding our relationship.”
“Have you missed all the homophobic slurs on your Instagram? On the team’s Instagram?” Callan asks, turning to Landon. He folds his arms across his giant chest. “On my Instagram?”
“Yeah, Cal, I have missed that because I haven’t been checking Instagram,” Landon says. He stands up and starts collecting the dirty dishes. “Because I’ve been busy raising my beautiful daughter, fucking my gorgeous partner, and training so I can hopefully help win Portland their first Cup.”
“In other words, we’re living our best gay life,” Grady adds and smiles up at my brother as he clasps his fingers behind his head and leans back like he hasn’t a care in the world. “Fuck the haters.”
“Well, it’s my first season in this league and on this team,” Callan says hotly.
“And I play defense, in case you forgot, which means I’ll have to play closely with him.
I really do not need the shit show circus that Theo Richard’s drunk ass is going to bring to the pre-season or the season if they’re crazy enough to keep him. ”
“You just keep your head down and concentrate on making the team, Cal,” Landon advises. “As a second-round draft pick and a rookie, you’re gonna have to really impress them to not be dropped to the farm team your first season.”
“And pitching a fit about this won’t convince the Tide to keep you,” Grady adds, and Callan gets even angrier. He looks like he wants to punch something or blow steam out of his ears.
“I’m going for a run,” he says as he storms away from the table.
A second later, the front door slams. Grady’s shoulders slump. Landon frowns and looks at me. “You had to bring that up that way? Couldn’t talk to me privately?”
“I didn’t mean to make this a thing,” I say and feel a twinge of guilt. “But Cal might be right. Maybe this guy doesn’t deserve a second chance from you guys or the league.”
“He does.” Grady's voice is firm, and you can tell he wants to believe it.
“You never did tell us how the breakup went,” Landon says, and I grit my teeth. So much for changing the subject.
“Why aren’t you worried about Theo and being on the same team as him?” I ask, keeping the focus off me. “Won’t it add to the media storm that has just started dying down, to have him back in the league and playing with you?”
“Probably, yeah,” Landon says softly. “But he deserves a second chance. He didn’t do it sober, and he’s made it clear he regrets it.
Lastly, and this isn’t to be overlooked, he is a fucking great hockey player.
He’s the best offensive defenseman the league has seen in a decade.
The Riptide needs that if we’re going to win the Cup. ”
Of course, it’s about the fucking Cup and the stupid game of hockey. I shake my head. “I swear every fucking guy in my family would forgive a murderer if they had a good forecheck.”
I push back my chair and stomp through their perfect little house by the sea to the porch at the front and shove my feet into my Adidas.
Landon follows me, then leans against the door frame. “How did Pete take the breakup?”
“Not great, but it’s done.”
“So no more late-night visits? No more flowers? No more—”
“No. And stop before I get super mad,” I snap.
Landon, Callan, and Grady think I’m weird for not wanting the attention Pete gave me. They think it’s “cute” that he had flowers delivered to my apartment a couple times and once showed up at ten o’clock at night with chicken soup when I called in sick to a work shift.
What they don’t know is that I never gave Pete my address.
He followed my Uber home from work one night, without my knowledge, to find out where I lived.
They also don’t realize that we had established that we were a fling and nothing more, but Pete changed his mind without caring or asking if I’d changed mine.
I hadn’t. “Not every woman has to swoon over any and all attention a man gives her. ”
Landon’s face pales instantly. “I didn’t mean that! It’s just… I’m sorry. He seemed like a good guy, and you deserve a good guy.”
“He wasn’t, and, for your information, I don’t want any guy. See you tomorrow.” I open their screen door and let it close loudly behind me as I stomp down the stairs to the cracked sidewalk below.
“No guy? How about a girl?” he calls out. “Are you queer too? I support you!”
“Nope. Dick all the way!” I call back and keep walking. If I were queer, maybe it would be easier because then there would be someone with a uterus in the relationship, and it could go somewhere. No man who wants kids is going to attach themselves to a woman who can’t have them.
Landon and Grady bought a gorgeous clapboard four-bedroom barn-style home with a wraparound porch, a block from the ocean in a quaint little seaside village called Ocean Pines, where our mom’s side of the family has been summering for generations.
Grady had been renting a condo on the ocean a couple streets away before they moved in together, so Callan and I took over his lease.
It gives me easy access to Randie when I need to babysit, but also feels a little isolated now that I think I have a stalker.
Pete and I had a good time the night we hooked up this summer.
But it was supposed to be one night. I don’t want a boyfriend.
I mean, I wouldn’t actively run from the right guy, but the criteria for that guy narrowed significantly after I had my emergency hysterectomy.
And honestly, I’m not in a place to find the right one.
I’m unhappy with my life, and I need to fix it and my mindset before I think about settling down.
Hook-ups give me a shot at feeling desired, which I need, without the mental gymnastics or vulnerability of dating.
Pete had just come out of a relationship and said he was on the same page.
When we hooked up, the sex was good, and he was cool afterward, not weird.
So when he showed up at the bar a few nights later, we exchanged numbers and hooked up again.
I told him again, after the second time, as bluntly as possible, that I wasn’t looking for a relationship.
He said it was fine, and I didn’t hear from him for two weeks.