I failed Lottie.
And I failed myself.
twenty-eight
Lottie
Watchingreflectionsrippleacrossmy windshield, I drum my fingers on the steering wheel in time with the music on the radio. The Stars’ team bus idles near the hotel entrance. When the doors open, the players spill out with slumped shoulders and crestfallen expressions. Tyson steps off last. His Stars hoodie rides up in the back, like he forgot to pull it down or he didn’t have the energy to care. With how serious he takes hockey, I’m guessing it’s the latter.
He texted me after the game to meet him here, to avoid being seen together at the arena. After all the guys disappear inside, I step out of the car and stay in the shadows. The sky is dark, and a bellboy paces near the entrance, scrolling on his phone. As soonas Ty sees me, the invisible knot pulling his face tight unravels. His lips part slightly as he strides toward me. “Hey,” I say in a quiet voice, careful not to draw attention.
“Hey.” His voice carries a tone of forlornity I expected. His eyes drop to my shoes, then lift back to my face. Since he doesn’t mention the game, neither do I. We start walking and close the distance between us until our arms brush. His hands stay shoved in his pockets. Without speaking, we head toward the waterfront park. Maybe it’s because we spent so much time together on the water that it’s natural for us to gravitate in that direction. As soon as the Potomac River comes into view, my shoulders release some of the day’s tension.
Tyson must feel the release too, because he finally speaks, “I hate that when we lose, I can’t stop replaying all the ways I failed.” His eyes sweep to mine. They are vulnerable in a way that makes my breath catch.
“I didn’t see you failing at all.” I take a risk by lightly touching his forearm before quickly pulling back. “I saw you playing your best.”
His mouth twitches. I can tell he wants to argue, but instead he says, “I want to be someone you can be proud of.”
“You are.” Without hesitation, I lift my hand toward him again, giving him time to pull away if he wants to, but he doesn’t. When I take his hand in mine, my heartbeat stumbles at the memory of how perfect this feels. His eyes drift closed for a second, like he too is savoring the contact and perhaps storing some of the sensation away for when we have to conceal our affections for each other. “I’ve always been proud of you and how hard you work. I seriously can’t wait to tell everyone we’re together.”
Turning toward me, his hand lifts and settles at my waist. A spiral of goosebumps ripples up my spine as his thumb presses lightly into the fabric of my shirt. I can’t help but smile. Eventhough the team had a devastating loss tonight, being able to finally come together feels amazing. “Yeah, the whole Bodan thing is something I never expected. Three is a bit of a crowd, and I’ll be honest, I can’t wait until he’s out of the picture.”
“Well.” I slide my lips into a teasing slant. “If you remember, he was your idea.”
“No.” He shakes his head playfully as he lowers his face to mine. “He was your mom’s orchestration. I was only helping to make sure you didn’t have to hold hands with Brett.”
The mere mention of Brett sends a cold shiver through me. “Yeah, thank you for that. I can’t imagine how that would have fueled his ego.”
We both chuckle and grow more comfortable until we find ourselves leaning into each other, and his hand tightens at my waist. Without any other cues, we both instinctually sense what’s coming. I press my palm against his solid chest, and the warmth that spirals up my arm draws me even closer.
When his lips brush mine, a soft ache spreads through my gut. His kiss is unhurried, almost as if his lazy grin has a matching setting. There’s no hint of the game loss, as that all seems to melt away. My hand slides up his chest until my fingers find his collar, and I curl them there, enjoying the unexpected awareness that I can feel the rise and fall of his breathing under my palm.
This isn’t our first kiss, but our first one was so unexpected that everything about that moment was fueled by adrenaline. This kiss gives us the chance to explore a little, and his thumb brushes my waist as I find a rhythm defined by the way his mouth moves against mine. When we pull back, his eyes stay closed a beat longer, like he’s still not ready to let the moment go, his beautiful dark lashes fanning against his skin.
A burst of laughter spills from somewhere near the water. Reality slams back into place. I have no idea who is out there. Even though it’s dark, I slide my foot back one step, almost likewe rehearsed it. Without speaking, we nonchalantly turn to the river, like we’re out for the view. I watch the faint reflections of the lights in the dark water and pray we aren’t recognized. The group of laughing people moves the other way, and we stroll quietly in the opposite direction until we find ourselves alone again.
I’ve known Ty most of my life. It’s an odd—but easy—feeling to transition from friends to something more. We don’t need to have a chatty first date about our likes and dislikes. We could probably each write a book about the other without even trying. We know all the details about our families, hometown, and careers. The one thing we seem to need is more physical touch to soak up what this feels like. At least for me, nothing has ever felt more right.
We remain quiet, sharing deep eye contact as the kiss still hangs between us. It’s left a warm stain on my lips I don’t want to let go of, and I’m craving more of it. So, when we happen to stroll by a large tree and he gets a gleam in his eye, we don’t hesitate to slip into the shadows and immediately pull into an embrace.
“I’ve wanted this for a long time,” he says, his voice low. When our eyes find each other’s, I smile wider, and he tacks on, “Longer than you probably even realize.”
“Oh, yeah,” I say with a teasing breath as it’s hard to believe. I’ve been waiting since I was sixteen and except for that one time he never showed interest in being anything more than friends. “Humor me. How long?”
“I knew since the first day I met you that you were meant to be mine, but I didn’t really know what that meant, but I asked Santa for you every year.”
“You enlisted Santa.” I give him a side-eye as that can’t be right.
“Every year.” He takes a breath before his words rush out like a heavy load he’s carried too long and is finally ready to drop. “Do you remember that summer right after you graduated from high school? You were finally eighteen, and we met for July Fourth at your Mapleton house like always.”
I remember that summer perfectly.
I remember all our summers together.
I’m not sure why, but my cheeks heat at being put on the spot. Even though this is Ty, who I know as well as my own brother, I’m still shy when it comes to talking about this out loud.
“I had told myself that once you were eighteen, everything would magically click into place. Then, out of nowhere, you announced you were moving to DC to help your mom. I was happy for you, but it was miserable not saying anything.”
