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Meanwhile, I’m the one left to mourn the daughter I thought was mine but never will be.
I can’t believe how much she’s grown.
It’s been six months since I’ve held her in my arms or rubbed my cheek against hers. Six months since her soft brown hair tickled my nose as I breathed in the scent of her baby shampoo. Six months of sadness and loneliness, of bitterness and anger. Of pushing away the people I love most when all they wanted was to help me. But I hadn’t been ready to move on with my life. There wasn’t a switch to flip or a magic potion to drink to take away my pain.
It doesn’t matter if I only held my baby girl for the first ninety-two days of her life. The moment the doctor placed the tiny red-faced bundle in my arms, I forever changed.
I couldn’t expect others to understand how crushingly painful the situation was. Once the hockey season was over, I asked for a trade, and I’m fortunate to have ended up where I did.
Now, if I could only move past my anger and trepidation toward others. I’m holding myself back from fully engaging with my new teammates.
Sure, I work out with them and joke around, but I haven’t allowed deeper friendships to develop. Trust is earned on and off the ice, and I don’t want my newfound skepticism to impact how I play. Teams who get along and enjoy spending time together often gel better on the ice.
Overall, I’ve had a successful career, but the one goal I haven’t achieved is winning the Cup. Being on the Coyotes makes it a real possibility I might finally attain that lofty goal. I will do whatever is needed to help my teammates win it all for the second year. Even if that means putting myself out there more.
Shutting off the TV, I pick up my phone and type Lucy’s name in the search bar. I’m surprised by how much information I find about her. I click on the first link, which brings me to the website for her show,Bigfoot’s Hairy Tale.
The catchy title makes me snicker, but as I read the posts on the site, I realize her show isn’t some spoof about Bigfoot. She and her crew are searching for evidence he exists. I click on one of the episodes and quickly become enthralled with watching and listening to Lucy. She’s intelligent and engaging. She adds humor where she can and isn’t afraid to point out the ridiculous. Hers isn’t one of those shows that considers every possible sighting credible. She waits to voice her opinion until she’s seen all the evidence, but if it’s weak, she’ll say so.
She’s a tough little thing.
I imagined looking her up online would satisfy my interest in her, but it’s only made me more curious. She’s every bit as physically attractive as I remember, but her outgoing personality has captured my attention tonight. Her chocolate-brown eyes sparkle as she points out what might be a partial footprint they’ve found near a stream in the forest. Her excitement is almost palpable, reaching me through the laptop screen. I find myself wanting to believe Bigfoot exists despite being cynical about the possibility in the past.
After I’ve finished three full episodes of season one, I finally force myself to close my laptop. I’ve got practice in the morning and need to rest. But while I lie there, my mind is filled with thoughts about Lucy, and I can’t shut them down. Seeing herin her element has intrigued me on a deeper level that I’m uncomfortable with. I don’t want to be interested in her or any other woman. We’ve only met because I fell for a woman I shouldn’t have. With a successful career and my dream home, I thought I had my life in order. But meeting Destiny was like knocking over the first domino in a long line I’d carefully laid out. Once one falls, the rest don’t stand a chance.
God, I was so fucking stupid.
But it’s not like Destiny came with a warning label I chose to ignore. She seemed like a loving girlfriend in all ways. Was she self-absorbed at times? Yes, but I told myself we all have that tendency. Plus, she was only twenty-five years old, which made me ignore the red flags I saw, making allowances in the name of her immaturity.
I got distracted by her beauty and fame. Having her on my arm felt good for all the wrong reasons. She was the boost to my ego that I’m ashamed I needed.
Time and distance have given me the clear perspective I was missing. I’ll never make the same mistakes again. If that means remaining single, that’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make. No matter how intriguing I find Lucy, nothing can come of it.
CHAPTER 8
LUCY
My fingers skipacross the keys as I add notes to my doc. I’ve been compiling a list of professional athletes and their contact information from the teams in South Carolina. After the holidays, my producer can start reaching out about them being on my show. Fingers crossed, someone will jump at the opportunity to do something different.
Fuck that defeatist attitude.
I know someone will. Like I’ve always known,Bigfoot’s Hairy Taleis destined for nationwide viewership. I’m going to manifest that shit into existence.
Maybe I can manifest a hot guy to have sex with too.
Grumpalupagus comes to mind. I spend the next minute or so picturing him in the black boxer briefs he fills out so well.
If only he weren’t such a jerk. Having a friend with benefits next door would be ideal for late-night hookups. And I wouldn’t even have to drive home afterward. I could get my “itch” scratched, return to my house, and be in bed within minutes. There’d be no awkward morning afters or accidental sleepovers because I was too tired to drive home. We wouldn’t have to talk at all. All communication would happen via text messages…
Me: Wanna fuck?
Him: Get over here.
How perfect would that be?
Goddamn Niall and his shitty disposition for ruining what could’ve been the perfect arrangement between us.
I’ve barely closed my laptop and placed it on the end table when Maeve appears.
