Page 89 of Hockey Boy
“What?”
Ducking, she lets out a slow breath. “It’s just rare to have someone believe in me.”
Fuck, the genuine hurt in her tone eats at me. Has anyone ever believed in this girl? Is that why she’s so flippant? I guess I can relate. I can look back now and see how oblivious I was to some of what Lennox went through when we were in high school. I had hockey, my brothers, and Lennox. I had everything I needed.
But maybe she only had me.
Was I so distracted by my own wants that I failed at supporting her? Clearly, I made mistakes, because one minute, we were happy, and the next, she was gone.
I’m still lost in the past when she continues. “The only person who ever believed in me, besides you, was my grandmother.”
I angle in closer, eager to digest every morsel Lennox is willing to share with me. I want every detail of her life while we were apart. If I could crawl inside her brain, I would. “How so?”
She leans back against the cushions and lets out a long exhale. “After graduation, she knew I wasn’t ready for college.”
I nod. “And then you decided to spend the year in Europe.”
For years, we’d planned to go to college together. I had to report early for hockey, but her plan was to follow me that fall. The life we imagined was far different from this reality. We’d probably be married by now, with kids.
I choke back the devastation threatening to swamp me and press on. This is as close as we’ve come to a discussion about the breakup. “Are you glad you took that year off?”
Lennox laughs lightly, though there’s nothing funny about this conversation. Because what I’m really asking is this: Does she regret ending things? Does she regret our breakup at all?
“I should probably have taken two years. Maybe ten. I still have no idea what I want to be when I grow up.”
“I thought you loved what you do?” I ask, genuinely perplexed.
Her smile quickly morphs into a frown. “Aiden, I plan parties for a living. It’s nothing, really.”
“You bring joy to people.” Unlocking my phone screen, I hold the device up, showing her the pictureJoliepublished along with the article. “You see Josie’s face right there? You did that.”
She shakes her head, even as her eyes brighten. She wants it to be true. She wants to matter. If only she could see herself the way I see her. She’d know she matters so much that it makes it hard for me to breathe. Hard for me to contemplate anything other than how I can show her she matters. With my hands. With my lips. With my heart.
“That was a good day,” she says softly, studying the photo of Josie and the girls in front of the carousel.
In this moment, I know with absolute certainty that I’m in trouble. Because as much as I love loud, bubbly Lennox, the one who teases and sasses me—the one who walked naked through this apartment to taunt me into admitting I couldn’t handle faking with her—I love this Lennox too. The one she hides beneath the loud. The one she doesn’t let anyone see. And this Lennox, just like every other version of her, feels a hell of a lot like mine.
I vow here and now to use these next few months, while she’s mine, to prove to her how good we are together. I vow to use this time to help her fall in love with herself. To fall in love with this city. And hopefully, if I’m lucky, to fall in love with me.
“First Melina Rodriguez,now aJoliearticle? Should I be worried you’re going to get all the good projects now?”
I eye Rayna, a single mom I share coffee with every morning in the office, checking to see if her words hold any malice. The brunette merely smiles at me.
Odd. Every other place I’ve worked has had a competitive culture. A toxic one at that. Where men talk down to women and women cut one another with their words. But I haven’t experienced that here once.
“Beginner’s luck, I’m sure,” I reply, reaching for the whipped cream in the fridge. I hold it out to her, but she shakes her head, so I cover the top of my coffee with the sweet treat and then return it to the shelf.
“Don’t downplay how hard you’ve been working,” Serena says as she strolls into the break room, salad in one hand and a water bottle in the other. “There’s no luck about it.”
My face heats. I’ve never actually been good at anything. It’s one thing to have Aiden tell me he’s proud of me, but my boss too, and co-workers…
“Knock, knock.”
At the sound of that familiar voice, I spin toward the door, my lips lifting. Aiden wears one of his easy, happy-go-lucky smiles as he hovers outside the breakroom.
“And who do we have here?” Rayna teases, blatantly checking him out.
I do the same. How could I not? He’s wearing a pair of light blue shorts and a black T-shirt that molds to his body so perfectly it makes my mouth water. His hair is lightly gelled, making the natural highlights in his curls appear almost golden.