I nod and rub the back of my neck.“Yeah.You’re stuck with me this season.”
Landon grins and pulls me into his chest, clapping my back.“Fucking great, Theo!”
My gaze moves to Lola, who is watching me with an aloof stare, her hand absently playing with the light, fuzzy blonde hair that peppers the baby’s little head.Lola’s wearing a flowy patchwork dress and a vintage-looking jean jacket.Her hair is in two very short pigtails just behind her ears, with hoops that look like they’re made of straw.She looks like a hot Mother Earth.
“You might want to stick around a second,” I say to her as I see Coach heading toward the locker room.
“Landon, Theo.”He waves for us to follow.
I glance over my shoulder and motion for Lola to move closer to the locker room door.She looks at me like I’m insane, because it’s a rule friends and family don’t infiltrate the locker room, but she takes a couple tentative steps to the open door.Landon and I step inside as Coach stops in the middle of the circular room and claps his hands.“Listen up!Richard is sticking around for the season.”
There’s a round of applause, which humbles me in a way that makes my eyes want to water again.Fuck, when did hockey get so fucking emotional?Is it always this way for sober guys?“And because having two Garrisons and a sort of Garrison isn’t enough, we’ve also decided to double down on Cascos.Congrats Callan.You’re officially starting your first NHL season.”
Everyone cheers, and I clap so hard for the kid that my shoulder objects.Callan’s smile is like pure sunshine as his brother walks over and hugs him, lifting him off the floor, which is no small feat because Callan is six-foot-three and Landon isn’t.I look into the hall, and Lola is grinning, wiping a tear from her eye.She pulls a phone out of her pocket and snaps a quick pic of her brothers celebrating, and then she looks at me.
Thank youshe mouths, and I nod.
She disappears down the hall, and I walk to my new lineman and give him a hug.
Chapter7
Lola
November…
Why does the snow feel ominous?It’s never felt like that before.When I first got to Maine for college and experienced my first real winter, I’d been in love with snow.The very first big snowfall of the year, my entire dormitory raided the cafeteria, stole the plastic food trays, and used them to sled down the hill separating the library from the gymnasium.Then we had a snowball fight against another dorm and built erotic snowmen, and women, in the quad—something that garnered a strongly worded email to the students from the Dean.
I used to take long walks by myself in the snow at night, through campus, until my cheeks were frozen and I couldn’t feel the tip of my nose.It cleared my head and brought me peace.But now… I mentally curse every flake that tumbles from the sky outside the window of Salty’s.Well, every flake I can see.It’s so dark out that I can barely see any of them.It’s the first snowfall of the season, which is relatively late for Maine, considering it’s almost Thanksgiving.But Mother Nature has decided to make up for her tardiness with volume.This is supposed to be a full-fledged snowstorm with high winds and inches upon inches of the white stuff expected before morning.
“So that’s it,” Todd says, walking into the main room from the small office at the back of the bar.“The owner just called and said to close early.You can go.”
“Really?’
“No one is getting out in this bullshit.”Todd waves a hand toward the window and another toward the empty bar.Even our regulars aren’t here.It’s almost ten-thirty, and we haven’t had a customer in two hours.He turns back to me.“You have a long drive, right?You live by Old Orchard Beach?”
“Just twenty minutes,” I reply, but my eyes shift to the window again.“Or maybe forty-five in this.”
“Go now.Before it gets any worse,” Todd suggests and shoos me toward the alcove where the staff keep their personal belongings.
When I get back, I shrug into my faux-fur hot-pink jacket, which I’d found at a vintage store and is gorgeous but not at all warm or practical.“Do you have far to go?”
“No.I live three blocks from here,” Todd explains.“I’m going to give everything a quick wipe down and restock the beer fridge and then head out.And before you offer to help, thank you, but I’ve got it.Go now before it’s too scary to drive.”
I smile appreciatively.“See you next week.”
“Right.You volunteered to work Thanksgiving.”Todd nods.“See you then.Drive safe.”
I nod and walk to the door, making sure to get my keys out of my purse before I trudge into the storm.I’m looking forward to working on Thanksgiving, because it means I can avoid the family function.My parents are coming to town, and all the Cascos, except me, are going to Grady’s parents’ house in Silver Bay.
If I join, my parents will spend the whole car ride there and back looking at me with concerned eyes and asking vague questions, hoping for specific answers about what’s going on with my life, and I don’t want to answer any of them.My mom is still worried about how I’m handling the hysterectomy.My dad probably was, too.They’d both had infertility issues, which is why Landon is so much older than Callan and me—and why we’re twins.They did in vitro to get us.My mom feels guilty that I had this happen because she thinks it’s hereditary.Even if it is, I don’t blame her.We really should talk it out, but I just don’t want to.And then there’s my career, which is another topic I’m avoiding.My postpartum contract ended, and although the lady gave me a glowing review, I’m yet to find more work as a doula.It’s just not as popular a birth plan in Maine as it is in California, but I’m not feeling pulled to move back to California.At least, not for a job I can’t decide if I love.So that’s another topic I don’t want to get into.
I’m working at the bar because there’s so little work as a doula, and the money’s great, but it’s not like I love the work.I could talk to them about the Art Collective I found and started volunteering at, but that might make my parents ask if I’m enjoying drawing and painting again, and I don’t want to admit that it’s the best part of my life right now.
And then there’s the Pete situation.Callan knows the most about it, but he doesn’t know everything.The guy just will not go away.He’s been leaving more flowers at the apartment, and he’s changed his number a bunch of times so he can call me without being blocked.It’s to the point where I don’t answer any number I don’t know, but he leaves voicemails.They aren’t mean or threatening, but they’re fucking annoying.And they make my skin crawl, because how did he not take the hint?Why am I still having to ask him to stop?What am I doing wrong?
I step out of the squat brick building onto the sidewalk and pull up the furry, oversized hood on the jacket.I immediately slip but stay upright.The snow is already two inches deep, and there’s clearly ice under it.The streets are empty, but unfortunately, the sidewalk isn’t.There’s a guy standing on the sidewalk where it turns for the parking garage, where my car is.I grip my keys tighter in my pocket, threading each one through my knuckles.I start toward the parking garage, but move into the street so I don’t have to pass him on the sidewalk.My left foot lands on an ice patch, and I go down like a sack of potatoes.
He has his hands hooked under my arms and is pulling me to my feet before I can argue or step back.When I’m righted, I jerk away from him.
