Page 36 of Caught Stealing

Rory groans and runs his hands through his hair. This knocks his ball cap off of his head, so he catches it midair and puts it back on backwards. He knows I always liked it that way with a little of his dark hair peeking out the front. Darn him.

“Can we sit?”

I motion toward my sofa and let him sit first so I can ensure I’m on the opposite side of him. Far, far away from those crystal blue eyes, backwards cap, and intense focus. Once he takes a seat right in the middle of my large sofa, I choose the two-seater sofa. I know his ways.

“We’re sitting. Now tell me what this is really about, Rory.”

“Amanda was never all that interested in something long term. I guess it was the challenge for her. Once she got me, she didn’t want me anymore and dumped me like last week’s garbage.”

“That must have been painful for you,” I say without bothering to hide my sarcasm. I don’t use it often, but when I do, I mean it. I’m frustrated that he thinks bringing me this sob story will somehow soften my heart to a bona fide cheater. Despite what he said months ago, kissing someone who is not me, is cheating. A point I had to clarify several times before he got the hint. Then he chose her over me, and now here we are going over the details of why that was a dumb idea.

“Not really. I missed you. I wanted to fix things with you, but after you found out about us kissing, I knew you wouldn’t forgive me. I left because I was embarrassed and frustrated with myself, Lots, not because I wanted her over you.”

I clench my jaw to keep in the nasty words. Three years. All wasted because he got bored and instead of acting like an adult and working through it with me, he took the easy route and found something fun to do.

“Why are you here now, Rory? To get your things? I have them ready for you,” I say and point to the pile of hockey gear.

“I don’t care about that stuff. I care about you and—”

“Rory, stop. It isn’t just you that I can’t deal with right now, but all of them. None of my supposed friends bothered to tell me what was happening right behind my back. I trusted you so much, I never would have suspected a thing if I hadn’t literally caught you. For all the talk of being a family, the whole team sure threw me under the bus without a second thought.”

His cheeks flush bright red and he nods. “I know. But you should know that Patrick and Grant won’t even talk to me. They were on me about it the whole time, and the only reason they never told you was because I kept telling them that I would. They’re team Lottie all the way, if that matters.”

So the goaltender and one of the defensemen actually have spines, but what about the rest? At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter. I can’t look any of them in the face with any degree of dignity ever again.

“Lottie, I will do anything you want for a second chance. I’m asking for a date, that’s all. No commitment, nothing more. Just a chance to show you that I regret everything I did more than I can say. I love you, and I realize that more now that I’ve lost you.”

I ball my hands into fists in my lap. “That’s not my fault!”

He raises his hands to slow me. “I know that’s not your fault. You tried so hard to make me happy, and you were an amazing girlfriend. It’s all on me. Of course, none of it was your fault. I was an idiot. I know that.”

“I can’t forget and simply pretend you didn’t ruin me, Rory. I loved you so much. I wanted to marry you, and nothing hurts more than knowing I wasn’t enough for you. I don’t think you can fix that.” I don’t mean to respond with even a hint of hope, but it’s there. Some part of me wonders if he has learned his lesson, but the louder and much more frustrated part of me sends a scolding chill down my spine. It doesn't matter if he has. I don't trust him anymore.

“I know I don’t deserve another chance, but I’m asking you anyway because I want to spend the rest of my life being what you need. I want to revive the good we had and work through the stuff in me that made me take you for granted.”

I purse my lips. “I think that’s work you need to do on your own. I can’t be a stumbling stone or a ladder for you. What happens if nothing changes and you take me for granted again?”

His audible swallow hits me hard. He’s legitimately trying to hold back tears, which, admittedly, softens my heart just a little. I've never seen him this emotional. “Because nothing is worse than being the man who lost you.”

I swallow and bite back the lump in my throat that threatens to erupt in a bout of sobbing, because why couldn't he have come to that conclusion before ruining everything? I'm not prepared for this, not right now.

“We can talk. Nothing more than that, okay? We can talk about what happened, but not right now. I'm too frustrated and tired.” It’s not my wisest moment, but for the sake of being confident in my decision and offering grace, I’ll give him a chance to work through his issues and earn my forgiveness. I think I need it to move on, too. Guilt stings in my throat when I think of Andrew, the sweet pitcher who is working so hard for my heart.

Rory nods and clenches that sharp jaw again. “Yeah. That’s fair. It’s more than I expected.” He shifts forward and wipes his palms on his knees. “I’ll go and let you get back to what you were doing. And I’ll get that junk out of your way.”

I stand, my way of agreeing it’s time for him to go. He follows and collects his gear bag. Once it’s on his shoulder and he grabs his two sticks, he looks down at me again and I see him like I used to. My big, strong hockey player. The guy who relentlessly pursued me at the start of our relationship, just a fan he ran into at a charity event, but he was smitten. I miss that part of us.

Maybe that’s why I do a horribly stupid thing and lean in when he bends to kiss my cheek. When I realize what I've done—fallen into an old, comfortable habit—I gasp and freeze. Immediately, I know I’ve just given him something to hold on to, a hope that we might work this out. His soft smile is confirmation enough that my minor slip has offered him a foothold.

“Um, I guess I’ll talk to you later,” he says and hurries to the front door, probably before he does something stupid like really kiss me. “Night, Lots.”

“Night, Rory,” I whisper and shut the door behind him, shellshocked.

My empty corner beckons to me, reminding me that there’s a big part of my heart still tangled up in Rory Elsher, and maybe always will be. My house is too quiet now, too devoid of him. I blow out a frustrated breath and head to bed, hopefully to wake with a clearer mind.

Chapter Fifteen

Andrew

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