I thought she didn’t want the spotlight. She said she wasn’t sure she could handle the schedules and road trips and games that mattered more than dinners with her. Wasn’t sure she could handle falling for someone the whole world also had a claim on.
Guess the problem wasn’t the spotlight.
Guess it was just…me.
He brushes his thumb against her hip, absent, familiar. She doesn’t move it away. Something ugly and hot climbs up my throat. I can’t stand here. I can’t let her turn her head and find me watching like some creep who never got over her.
Even though that’s exactly what I am.
I step back, slowly at first, and then I move, head down, as fast as I can. My car is ten yards away. That might as well be a mile. If I start it, she might glance over. Instead, I cut left and head to our boat. My little brother Dylan, who at six foot five has two inches on me, takes our guests on excursions, and even if he’s not on the boat right now, I’ll be able to hide out there for a minute. As long as he’s not out on the water with it.
The boat is there, rocking gently as water slaps the hull. Dylan isn’t too far away, talking to his girlfriend, so I pass them and ask my brother if we can talk, then pace the shoreline,trying to get my shit under control before confining myself on a boat.
“Hey, man.”
Dylan’s hand lands on my shoulder, and I jump, turning to see him alone.
“Come on,” he says. “We can take the boat out for a few minutes while you tell me what’s going on. You look like you need to decompress.”
We walk onto the boat and sit down. I press the heels of my hands into my eyes until stars burst.
“She’s here,” I say.
“Who’s here?”
When I don’t answer right away, he asks again.
My body feels like it’s slogging through the lake in heavy winter gear, but somehow I drag my eyes to his.
“Lola Donavan. Here. At Windhaven. With Patrick Martin from the fucking Dallas Suns.”
“What? Are you sure it was her?” He leans forward with his elbows on his knees, and I nod.
“One hundred percent sure.”
“Did she see you?”
“No, I got the hell out of there. She was with Patrick Martin from the fucking Dallas Suns!” I repeat, unsure if he heard that part.
“He’s a fucking menace out on the ice,” he says, finally sounding as bitter as I want him to. “Wait. With Patrick…what do you mean exactly? You think they’re together? Like together together?”
My teeth grind together. “His hand was really low on her back. Really low.”
“Fuck,” he says. “What are you gonna do? Are you gonna talk to her?”
I’ve hardly talked to my family about Lola. We were in acollege relationship that I thought was going somewhere, but it didn’t. They never even met her, but they knew at the time that I was crazy about her.
“Want me to check out the situation?”
“Nah. I just saw them and panicked. Had to get out of there fast. But I’ll probably lie low for a couple of days. I’ll see if there are things I can do to help Noah on Goldie’s house or something away from the resort.”
“Okay. If you change your mind, let me know. I can do some recon.”
“Thanks…thanks for listening. I…sorry. Kind of had a moment. I feel better.”
“Okay. Good. I’m here. If you need to chat again, I’ll be around.”
I give him what I’m sure doesn’t quite pass as a smile. “Thanks, man.”
