Page 23 of For Puck's Sake

I look inside the bag and see there is a note on top. I pull it out and look up at Derrick.

“Thank you,” I say with a smile, and he blows out a breath. “No worries about it being late. I don’t plan on telling Mr. Masters,” I tease. “This is a surprise. I had no idea he made me lunch.”

“Okay,” Derrick says in relief. “He was adamant that you received this on time.” He looks at his watch and curses again. “It was nice meeting you. I need to go get Mr. Scott and Mr. Bergeron’s lunch now.”

He turns to leave but I stop him.

“Derrick. Blink twice if you’re being hazed.” I snort, holding back a full belly laugh.

Derrick shrugs. “I’ll be a rookie next year. I’m not playing for Seattle, though. I’ll be in Toronto. Guess I’m getting a crash course on being the new guy. But yeah,” he smiles shyly. Then he blinks twice, and I burst out laughing as he waves goodbye and rushes out of the room. No doubt he’s been asked to retrieve something outlandish for the two of them. Hockey players are big babies.

I shake my head, pausing as I remember the letter in my hand. Unfolding it as I walk from the classroom, I stop as I see Ridley’s familiar scrawl.

Luna,

I think this is the only way you and I will ever get to have lunch together. Time is not on our side it seems. I won’t pressure you though. Eat your lunch anywhereyou like. But if you want to keep me company while I eat mine, I’ll be waiting in the penalty box. Ham and cheese in hand.

Yours always,

Ridley

P. S. I got you some gummy worms.

It’s a simple note. Nothing special, but I find myself wiping away a stray tear. He made me lunch, no strings attached. I can take my lunch and go eat it alone outside underneath a tree if I want. Alone. Ridley’s giving me the choice. I can decide where this goes, and after all my nerves leading up to this, I know for certain where my feet will carry me. I look inside the bag and there are indeed gummy worms inside. My favorite.

I am not a fan of grand gestures; they always seem too forced. Or maybe I’m used to my family throwing money at everything to solve all their problems or to make a statement. None of it impresses me. But as I carry my lunch in a brown paper bag, my name written in Sharpie, heading toward the hockey rink, the thought of a ham and cheese sandwich and gummy bears is pure opulence.

It’s perfect. It’s Ridley. It’s us.

FOURTEEN

RIDLEY

She’s not coming. Maybe my delay in our lunch plans reminded her of all the times I was away from her. All the times I returned home late from away games to find her asleep in our bed alone. Did she realize potentially starting over is futile and decide to take her packed lunch elsewhere? I mean, it’s a packed lunch for fuck’s sake, not a six-course meal from a Michelin star chef. Even if it were the case, I know my woman well enough to know, fancy won’t win her over.

Brea never cared about me being a famous hockey player. When we met here five years ago, she saw me, a man with a beer in his hand, who fell in love with her the minute she played her first chord. Brea didn’t care about my money; she had her own. She’s lived a life of privilege her entire life, something I can never relate to. Yet, we worked. We can still work. Despite the scales tipping precariously on the side of reasons why we shouldn’t attempt this again. I hope she can see the care and love I poured into the brown paper bag. Maybe she noticed the little flourish on the “a” in her name written in Sharpie. How I almost turned it into a heart and thought better of it, going for acute little curly cue instead. Or the way I cut her sandwich on the diagonal, sans crust, how she likes it. It’s a sandwich, I know, but damn it, it’s significant. Meaningful.

I look around the rink at the groups of kids eating their lunches in various seats in the stands. The youngest group of kids in the camp go home at this point of the day, giving us a chance to work with the older hockey players in the afternoon. So far, with the help of Derrick, I have fallen into my role here seamlessly. Maybe Tor can let me take his place more often now that he and Alexis are married. Thinking about my best friend, I knew he would get his way. I love the man, but now that he’s with Alexis, he’s an entirely different breed. I bet he didn’t give Alexis a choice. I bet he even won her mother and sisters over, convincing them with some lavish reception during our Christmas break. I’m happy for them both. If given a chance, I would do the same. I wouldn’t give Brea an opportunity to think about it, I would just sweep her off her feet and carry her to the courthouse. Romantic, right? Well, according to Devan and his love of all things smutty, it is. His words, I shit you not. Duplicitous consent is all the rage.

I chuckle to myself at the ridiculousness of it all. Between Devan and now Tor, I’m surrounded by crazy.

“I had to shoot my shot,” I mutter to myself, taking one more hopeless look around, sighing when I don’t see her. It appears our busy schedules have indeed put things into perspective for Brea. Perhaps she took her sandwich elsewhere. Fuck. It stings, but I guess I should have known it wouldn’t be this simple.

I give up the waiting game and pull out my sandwich from the bag I’ve been clutching like an eager puppy and take a bite. I chew slowly, glancing down appreciatively at my handy work. I mean, Subway can kiss it, I make a damn good ham and cheese sandwich. Toot, toot. Taking another hearty bite, I watch Devan down below gliding along the ice gracefully as he shows off hisfigure skating skills to some of the kids. I forget sometimes when he’s pounding his fist into someone’s face on the ice, his origin story began in tights and sequins. I’ve seen the pictures in all their side-splitting hilarity. Apparently, he was good at it too. Well, until a hockey coach tempted him over to the dark side, sans cookies.

Devan leaps into the air, twirling three times, then lands perfectly on one leg, arms spread with the biggest smile on his face. The kids hoot and clap in both surprise and awe. He’s a big teddy bear, honestly, but don’t let the Triple Salchow fool you, the man’s a beast. He’s a defender for a reason. A romance-novel-loving cat dad who will lay you out cold if you come for his team mates on the ice.

Oh yeah, and the man is indeed infatuated with my baby sister. All week long he’s had his nose in his phone texting her. When I ask him about it, he blows me off or redirects the conversation. I’ve held off on calling Lia. I refuse to go all big brother on her, but something is going on between the two of them. If they are together and hiding it, I’d rather they just tell me. My sister is grown, she doesn’t need me meddling in her love life. God knows I’m not the one to go pointing fingers and telling her what not to do. So, I’ll wait. Eventually one of them is going to break and blurt out what’s going on. I guarantee it will be Devan, Lia is a vault.

“The penalty box, Rid. Really?” I don’t startle from the sudden sound of her voice. No, I let my eyes close and savor it. I let it wash over me in sweet relief. She came. Brea Brookes, my Luna, my Angel, takes a spot next to me, propping Bessie up between us. I don’t reply, not at first, I’m content to sit here side by side as we both eat in silence. I keep my eyes forward, finding the ice empty. Glancing around, I notice the entire rink has gone quiet, leaving Brea and I alone. Huh. I think my brain shut down the moment she arrived. How did Bast and Devan clear the rinkso fast? You know what, I’ll worry about it later, for now, I owe them one.

“I thought this spot was fitting considering all of my recent transgressions,” I finally say, regretting it as soon as the words leave my mouth. Okay, I guess word vomiting is a thing because here I am ready to spill all my sins out on the floor for her. Our time apart is the last thing I want her to think about, but subconsciously, my soul needs to expel all of it. I, by no means meant to begin this conversation like this, but time is not on our side. I’m eager, desperate even, to get this part over with so we can turn the page. May as well jump right in.

Brea shifts her locs over her shoulder and turns those beautiful brown eyes in my direction. They aren’t angry or hurt as she chews the rest of her sandwich slowly, her gaze is thoughtful, eyes never leaving mine, in what I can only assume is contemplation. She takes out her bottle of water, takes a sip and I do the same, needing to do something while I await my fate. Once she wipes her mouth with a folded paper towel from her bag, yes, that was me as well, she finally speaks, but not before she pulls out the gummy worms. I smile, because I didn’t realize how much I’ve truly missed her until this moment. How I thought I could live a life without her, to let her go without a fight, is beyond my comprehension.

“There’s no easy way to transition into this, is there?” she asks rhetorically. I know she doesn’t expect me to answer but I find myself shaking my head no regardless.

Brea sighs heavily and I can feel the weight of her words before she even opens her mouth. I want to reach out and lace our fingers together instinctively but I refrain. At least, for now.

---