Page 12 of Hockey Boy
I grit my teeth. That’s what I’m worried about.
My dearest Lennox,
I know you are probably very angry with me. But please know I have only the best intentions, and I love you.
Eyes squeezed shut,I will myself not to cry. I’ve had this letter from my grandmother for two weeks already, and still, I can’t get past this first sentence. When my phone buzzes, I let out a breath of relief and use the interruption as an excuse to fold the letter up and stuff it into my bag. Don’t need Aiden and his bride to show up and discover me blubbering over my grandmother’s last words to me.
Mom: You know you can’t hide forever.
Me: I’m not hiding. I’m in Boston. Out and about. I live at 2018 Langfield Way, in apartment 16 B. Come visit.
Mom: Don’t be sarcastic.
Me: I’m not. We can have tea and cookies and chat all about your ridiculous obsession with my dating life.
Mom: Your father and I only want what’s best for you. And we didn’t write the trust.
Hands balled into fists, I scream. I know they didn’t write the trust. I know exactly who did. And I know word for word what it says. Doesn’t make it any easier to understand or accept. What was my grandmother thinking?
If I could force myself to read this damn letter, maybe I’d get answers, but it’s the last piece I have of the one person who loved me unconditionally, and I’m not ready to shatter that memory of her.
I blow out a slow, uneven breath as my heart pounds wildly in my chest. My hand shakes as I lift the phone back up, contemplating a response.
It’s fine. I don’t need their money. I don’t need the trust. As long as this job goes well, I’m fine. I can stand on my own two feet. Fortunately, I’m living rent free in the Langfield building. If I just squirrel away as much as I can until they cut me off completely?—
Ugh, even the thought of it gives me the hives. I know I said that money like my parents have is stifling, but it also provides shoes, and I really freaking like my shoes. But what choice do I have? I can’t do what they’re demanding.
An image of the kind of man my father would propose hits me, and a shiver runs down my spine.
“Nope. No can do. No shoe is worththat.”
A woman nearby grabs her child and steers him away from the crazy woman in pink who’s talking to herself about shoes.
Defeated, I spin and check the time on my phone. Where the hellis Jill? I emailed today’s schedule to both her and Aiden. This is our first stop, and they’re late. This venue is in a park. There’s a carousel that would make a cool backdrop for photos. I can already picture all the wild hockey boys in tuxes, making fools of themselves on the bright-colored ponies.
It’s a perfect spot for Aiden.
Not that I haven’t considered Jill. We could set up an elegant tent, keep the details classy, with pops of fun. I’m quite proud of this option, as was my boss when I mentioned it to her.
My top priority now is to impress her with my skills rather than my name, since soon, my family will make it clear that I’ve got nothing to back it up. I won’t have the ability to attract event contracts the way she probably hopes I will. I can’t offer up family parties as more business. It’s just me, my big, bright, pink personality, and the shoes I already own.Hopefully that’s enough.
I bite my nail as I scan the park, searching for the happy couple, and jump out of my skin as a strong hand lands on my shoulder. “Hey, Lex.”
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit.
Lex.
That single syllable, said inthatvoice, transports me back to every moment that ever existed between us.
A word whispered between kisses. A moan. A plea as he sank inside me for the first time, his eyes holding mine, so concerned. His brows furrowed as he studied my every expression, making sure that it was good for me too. Making sure it didn’t hurt too much.
Aiden Langfield was the sweetest boy that ever existed. He loved me enough in those few years to last me a lifetime.
That’s what I tell myself, at least.
“Lex,” he says again, softer now, his brow furrowed in that familiar way.