Page 14 of What If We Do

“Marie Laveau.” I nod. “Your mom was right. She is buried here.”

Scarlett’s jaw drops as she glances at me. “How did you know that?”

“New Orleans is one of my favorite cities.”

“But you don’t play for their team? Why not?”

“When the agent says go where the money is, that’s what you do when you’re young. I could leave and try to get myself in over here now, but the Stars have grown on me. Now they’re stuck with me.”

She nods. “I understand that completely.”

“You know who else has a tomb here?”

“Who?”

I smirk. “Nicholas Cage.”

She halts, her brows pinching. “Wait…Nicholas Cage? But he’s not dead yet. What the fuck?”

“He bought a tomb here anyway,” I laugh with a shrug. “Some say he’s hiding his fortune in the tomb. Some say he practices voodoo magic.”

“Aaand what do you say?” she asks me.

“Meh. The guy just probably has a love for this place like I do and wants to be buried here. But who knows? I could be very wrong.”

“You’re just a treasure trove of trivia tonight, aren’t you?”

“Say that five times fast,” I dare her.

“Treasure trove of trivia. Treasure chove of chivia. Chesure chove of trivia. Chesheshure trove of chiv…yeah okay,” she giggled. “I think I failed.”

I wrap an arm around her shoulder. “Nice try through. Points for effort.”

“But seriously. How do you know so much about this place?”

“What can I say? I’m a nerd when it comes to old spooky places.”

“Ah, so you like the scary stuff, huh?”

“I’ve always loved Halloween,” I tell her. “The parties, the horror movies, the silly decorations. It’s just a fun, stress-free holiday for people of any age. I mean, who doesn’t love Halloween?”

She catches my eye and studies me for several long seconds. Enough for me to cock my head and say, “What? What is it?”

Finally, she shakes her head and passes me a faint smile. “Nothing.”

“You sure?”

“Mhmm.”

Her change in demeanor catches me off guard. Something is clearly on her mind, and she doesn’t want to share. Part of me wants to push it because I’m guessing she needs to feel like she can talk things out without judgement and she can with me. Maybe she needs this trip to heal from her ex leaving her at the altar and I honestly wouldn’t mind being that person who holds her through it. But I’m not going to push it. Whatever is on her mind right now, I can only hope she’ll talk when she’s ready.

We walk endlessly through the darkened cemetery, pointing out interesting things about each tomb, laughing about our childhood and discussing our personal triumphs and tribulations. Not once does she ask me about hockey other than what I talk about and the overwhelming appreciation I feel for her because of that is indescribable. Anybody who meets me does nothing but talk about hockey. While some days I don’t mind talking game, there are many more days I would much rather talk about anything else. Hockey is my job. Yeah, I love it, but it doesn’t have to define all of me.

On our way back toward the opening we came through, there’s a spot where the streetlights outside the cemetery seem nonexistent because of the larger sized tombs around us. Scarlett takes the opportunity to look up at the sky, the moon and stars shining brightly above us.

And then surprisingly, she lays herself down on the ground.

“Are you alright?”

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