6. Lucy #3
"My dad will be talking to her and she'll be staring at her phone." I shrugged. "Or she'll disappear into another room to take a call." The words started coming easier after that. "Sometimes I feel like she's not really there anymore."
The confession sat between us. Ty squeezed my hand.
"Have you talked to her about it?"
I laughed softly. "No."
"Why not?"
I turned toward him. "Because that would require me to have an actual conversation about my feelings."
His grin appeared immediately. "Fair point."
I pointed at him. "Don't make fun of me."
"I'm not."
"You are." I rolled my eyes.
Ty's smile softened. "I don't think you're imagining it."
Most people would have told me not to worry. That everything was fine. That I was being dramatic.
Ty simply nodded like what I was feeling mattered.
And somehow that made me feel better.
The truck rolled through another intersection. Then another.
A few moments later I realized something. I frowned. "Ty."
"Hm?"
"You missed my turn."
"I know."
I sat up straighter. "Why?"
He shrugged. "We're talking."
I stared at him. He kept his attention on the road. Completely serious. Completely unconcerned. Like taking the long way home was the most obvious thing in the world.
A few blocks later he turned onto First Avenue. The bright lights of downtown Northbend reflected against the windshield.
Then Betsy slowed. And slowed again. Until finally Ty pulled into an empty parking spot along the curb. The black building across the street stretched along the block, covered in white stars and names. Towering above it all, the massive billboard glowed against the darkening sky.
"Why are we stopping?" I asked.
Ty shifted into park. The engine continued rumbling beneath us. Then he looked over. "I don't know."
A smile tugged at my mouth. "That's reassuring."
He laughed. Then his expression grew thoughtful. "I just feel like everybody's always trying to get somewhere."
I blinked. "What?"
Ty leaned back against the seat. "Practice. School. Games. Homework. College. The NHL. The future.” His gaze drifted toward the stars painted across the building. "I feel like my whole life is everybody asking me what's next."
"What do you tell them?"
"Hockey.” Ty laughed once. Then he rubbed a hand across the back of his neck.
"If somebody asks where I'll be next year?
Hockey. Five years from now? Hockey. Ten years from now?
Hockey." His smile turned smaller. "And honestly?
" His eyes met mine. "I don't really know what happens if it isn't. You know what the funny part is? "
"What?"
"You never talk to me like that."
"Like what?"
"Like hockey's the only thing I am."
I looked at him sitting there beneath the glow of downtown lights. Messy blond hair. Crooked smile. Big hands wrapped around mine. “But you’re not just hockey. You’re Ty. Funny, thoughtful, talented, annoying. All of it.”
His mouth twitched. I continued.
"You’re kind. The guy everybody calls when they need help moving furniture, who pretends he doesn't care about people when he actually cares too much."
Something warm moved through his eyes.
The city glowed beyond the windshield. The stars painted across First Avenue seemed to shine beneath the streetlights.
Ty's thumb brushed across mine. Back and forth. Slowly. Thoughtlessly.
The music settled around us. Like it belonged there.
A few minutes later, Ty finally put the truck back in gear. The drive to my house felt shorter after that. Maybe because neither of us wanted it to end. Maybe because we'd already said the things that mattered.
When Betsy finally rolled to a stop in front of my house, neither of us moved. The porch light glowed softly against the darkness. My parents' cars sat in the driveway.
Ty climbed out first. Then walked around to open my door before I could protest.
"Such a gentleman."
"I know."
"Your ego is exhausting."
"My best quality."
Together we walked up the front path. Our hands brushed. Then linked automatically.
At the front door, I turned toward him. Neither of us seemed particularly interested in saying goodnight. Ty tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. The simple gesture made my stomach flip. It was ridiculous how often that happened around him.
"Good luck tomorrow," I breathed softly.
His smile appeared immediately. "I have an A-minus."
I rolled my eyes. "You are never letting that go."
"Absolutely not."
Then he kissed me. Slow. Sweet. A kiss that felt less like fireworks and more like warmth. Like safety. Like home.
When he finally pulled back, neither of us moved very far.
His forehead rested lightly against mine. "See you tomorrow, Shortcake."
"See you tomorrow."
Ty smiled one last time before heading back toward the truck. I waited until he climbed inside before unlocking the front door. Then I stood there for a second. Watching the taillights disappear down the street.
The entire drive, I hadn't been Ezra Thomas's daughter. I hadn't been the responsible one. I hadn't been the girl trying to make everyone else happy.
I'd just been Lucy. And somehow, when I was with Ty, that felt like enough.