Page 37 of For Puck's Sake

Derrick watches quietly, probably wondering how he got roped into joining us tonight. He walks next to Bast, their arms brushing, but neither of them pulls apart from one another. Bast gazes over at Derrick quickly, before offering up his slushie to him. I pretend to look elsewhere but not before I see Derrick take the slushie from Bast and take a sip. I smirk at the exchange. Bast doesn’t hide his sexuality, there are a few gay and bisexual hockey players out and proud in the NHL. I’ve never seen him date or take anyone home with him at night—but this, though, this is interesting. Something went on between them this summer or perhaps Bast has taken a liking to the rookie. I guess I’m the only one who notices because no one else in the group has looked their way as they share the slushie between them.

Alexis nudges me in the rib with her elbow to get my attention. When I look down at her in question, she winks. Well, I guess I’m not the only one who’s noticed then.

We all continue to laugh and joke together, stopping at various booths, mainly to watch Alexis haggle with vendors. Tor eyes her like she hung the moon, ready to purchase whatever she sets her eyes on. Bast and Derrick gravitate to one another, hovering behind the group, while Devan has his nose plastered to his phone. I don’t need to guess who he’s texting—my sister’s not here, so he’s in constant communication with her. I have no doubt there’s something going on with the two of them as well. Mentally checking in with myself for the thousandth time this summer in regard to the two of them, I can officially say I’m okay with it.

Oh, my little makeshift family of misfits. I observe them all in amusement, wishing Lia was here to complete the crew. Times like this make me grateful for having them in my life. When my parents died, I thought I would never feel the warmth and love of family again. But here I am, years later, with an abundance of it.

Making our way through the throng of people, I point us in the direction of the stage up ahead. Checking my phone, I see I’ve missed another call from Hazel. There’s still time before Brea takes the stage, so I decide to call her back. I hadn’t gotten a chance to discuss the breaking news situation with her, and knowing Hazel, she’s probably going to lose it on me for not picking up the phone. In my defense, with all the notifications chiming through, I silenced my phone. The urge to check social media, to read comments is too strong.

A quick glance at my teammates, I wave my phone at them, communicating without words what I’m about to do. Stepping away, I find an empty picnic table near the pavilion, slide down on the bench and return Hazel’s call.

She answers the phone on the first ring. I can hear her exhale and cough before she says anything in way of greeting. Knowing Hazel the way I do, especially with the release of the picture, she’s probably been barking orders and chain smoking all day.“It’s about damn time, kiddo,” she snaps, voice extra raspy from, yep, too many cigarettes.

I sigh in exasperation. “Hazel, I had the scrimmage today, remember. My phone was on silent. It wasn’t until we finished that I saw you called, and I got held up by the thousands of posts and shares from the sonogram picture I’m tagged in.” I run my hands through my hair, making sure I keep my expression as calm as possible. There have been people taking pictures and filming the group of us since we arrived at the festival tonight. I don’t want anyone to get the wrong impression of me.

“Well, if you would have called your agent back, she would have told you not to worry?—"

I cut her off. What does she mean I don’t need to worry? This is an actual shit show of epic proportions, and we need to fix this without it affecting me or Brea negatively.

Hazel tsks, then I hear her take another drag of her cigarette. “You know, Ridley Masters, when I tell you not to worry, to let me handle things, I mean it. Never doubt me.”

“I don’t doubt you, Hazel, and I would never accuse you of not doing your job. My nerves are frayed from all the attention, and seeing the picture triggered an emotional response from me. I don’t want you to try to take it down. I have nothing to hide, and I don’t want the press to assume I do. I want to prove this woman is spreading lies about me,” I reply confidently.

“Which brings me to the reason I called you, Ridley. She’s a stalker,” Hazel says with a hint of excitement in her voice.

“Well, yeah, I figured, considering I haven’t been with anyone in months and we didn’t have a name,” I reply quickly as I check my watch and wince. I need to wrap this up. I don’t want to miss Brea.

“No. No. Like an actual stalker, meaning you’re not the only athlete she’s done this to. She’s tried this with multiple athletes under various aliases, and not just NHL players. It’s the variousalias angle that got her caught. It’s how she was able to share the picture without us knowing. But we got her”—she pauses, exhales what I can only assume is more smoke from her cigarette and continues—“Give me another twenty-four hours and this will all go away. We will make a public statement. Post her picture for the world to see and debunk the story. There’s an NBA player who is going to pursue legal action and I’m sure he’s not the only one.”

“Wow. So, it’s over?” I ask, blowing out a long breath. Is it possible to feel disbelief and relief at the same time? A part of me regrets the way I chose to live my life these past two years, especially now when it’s clear my sexcapades can pop up at any time to come back and haunt me. But in the end, all of this is part of my journey. I had to travel down this road because it eventually led me back to her, to my Luna, my Angel, and I wouldn’t change it for the world.

Ending the call with Hazel, I feel light and free from the worry this baby news had caused me since the beginning of the summer. All I want to do is rush through the crowd and find Brea so I can tell her the news. I know she said she believed me, and everything is okay between us, but I don’t want anything negative hanging over our heads. I know I won’t have time before she goes on stage, and I really don’t want to have to deal with Dean in order to get to her. Besides, Hazel would kill me if I make the news again for knocking his ass out tonight. So, I jog the rest of the way to the pavilion. Spotting the top of Bast’s head easily over the crowd, I make my way toward my friends. Selah, Brea’s mom, is on stage speaking to the town about why the festival was started years ago. She speaks about family and community coming together despite social and economic differences that divide the town. I can’t fight my eye roll at how rehearsed she sounds.

Bast mumbles something about inequality under his breath that makes Alexis whisper, “Amen to that,” in response to whatever he said.

Tor tucks her tighter to his chest and whispers, “Calm down, Supernova, I can hear the wheels of your brilliant mind turning, you’re getting book ideas,” he says.

“Please, give me all the smut!” Devan whispers back, making us all groan as Selah begins to clap and gesture to the side of the stage.

“Lark Bay, I’m so pleased to have my daughter here tonight. She graciously agreed to perform for the town. Help me welcome her to the stage. Brea, honey.”

Everyone around us is clapping and cheering. Their excitement feeds my own as I spot Brea at the base of the steps off-stage. I notice her father, who I haven’t seen since the day Brea left with me all those years ago. His face is pinched in a tight smile, his posture ramrod straight as Brea says something to him then walks up the stairs with a bright smile on her face. I watch the exchange carefully, noticing Selah opens her arms to give Brea a hug but Brea bypasses her mother for the mic instead. The brush off only makes my smile widen, just awkward enough for those that know her to notice but the crowd are none the wiser.

Selah looks back once as Brea approaches the mic, her fake smile plastered to her face, but the narrowing of her eyes tells me all I need to know. I guess Brea’s finally cut ties with them. That’s my girl. No point her wishing for them to change when they never will. She doesn’t need them. I’ve got enough love for us both.

I guess when the time comes I won’t have to suffer through seeing them at our wedding. Wishful thinking? Nope. I know Brea Brookes is my forever, and when I ask her to marry me again, the second yes will be so much sweeter.

Our eyes lock and we speak without words. Giving her a quick little wave before placing my right hand over my heart, I mouth my deepest sentiment, “I love you.”

Brea seems to settle then. The noise of the crowd is maddening; kids and parents alike are jumping and cheering. No doubt they’ve all seen Brea around town these past few weeks or seen her at Red’s at night. They love her, and the sight fills me with so much pride. She is in her element; this is where she belongs and I’m here for it.

Brea waits for the noise to die down, eyes never leaving mine as she says, “This song is for Ridley. My muse, my ocean, my everything.”

Alexis gasps next to me and covers her mouth with her hands. “Oh gosh, this is definitely writing material. Ah, I can’t cry yet, she hasn’t even started singing.”

“Second chance romance trope for the win,” Devan says as he pumps his fist in the air and claps with people around me, who of course have their phones in my face.

I can’t help the smile on my face. Her words are a balm to my soul, healing the fractured pieces of my heart our separation had caused. I hope she knows the feeling is mutual, that she is my everything, my guiding light in the dark, my moon.

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