Page 39 of Puck of the Irish

“The utter disappointment that is me pretty much.”

My brow furrows. “You can’t be serious?”

“Ohh as a heart attack.”

I slide off the couch to the floor so that we’re eye level across from each other. I spread my legs out in front of me and ignore the stupid, stupid rush I feel when her leg settles against mine. I’m going to have to get that shit under control if we’re back to just friends again.

“How is that possible? How could anyone think you’re a disappointment?” She gives me a sad smile before she exhales roughly.

“He’s just always wanted to dictate everything in my life: where I went to school, what I majored in, my career after graduation. And for a while, I let him, but after my mom died it was like everything just became painfully clear suddenly, like I’d been looking at my life without glasses on and then BAM—20/20 vision. I was really miserable in that life, just kind of…existing, not really living. So, I quit my job in New York and moved back home to start over doing something I actually chose for myself for once. I found the job with the Vipers and I’ve honestly loved every second of it.”

“But dad isn’t thrilled?”

She huffs out a humorless laugh.

“He thinks it’s ridiculous and that it’s just a phase I’m going through trying to get over losing mom.” She shakes her head angrily, but there’s so much pain in her eyes that my chest clenches. I want so badly to fix it somehow, to make the pain go away, but I have no idea how. She shakes herself. “Anyway, I just wish that he could understand that I’m finally happy, that he could just accept it and not care that I’m not following in his footsteps, ya know?” All because she doesn’t want to be a damn realtor too? What the hell?

“I’m really sorry, Nat. That’s…that’s awful. I can’t say that I know what it’s like because I was really lucky that mom and Ray always supported me no matter what I wanted to do—even when I decided to give musical theater a try.” She arches a brow and I shudder. “It didnotend well and solidified my desire to make hockey my life. But, they were both there for me a thousand percent, Hank too as the bonus dad-like figure. So, while I can’t relate, I can tell you that I think it’s shitty and that he’s an idiot.”

She exhales roughly, as if she’s been needing to hear those words for a long time.

“Thanks, Rizzo.”

“You’re welcome.” Our gazes hold for a long moment and I try to ignore the heat that starts to simmer.Friends, friends, friends. She smiles and knocks my ankle with hers.

“So tell me more about this musical theater fail…

Seventeen

NAT

Things aregreat and shitty all at once.

I’m still pissed at dad and not even close to ready to talk to him again yet. It’s more than just the jibe about not being over mom’s death, it’s the fact that I’m not enough for him and that he thinks he can still just bulldoze my life. I won’t let it happen anymore. I won’t give in or let him think it’s ok, and if that means icing him out for a while, then so be it.

But things with Rizzo have been amazing. I hadn’t realized just how much I’d missed him until we found our way back to how things were before. Well, notexactlyhow they were before: we’re actually closer than ever now. We’ve been spending almost every minute that I’m not working and he’s not practicing or playing together. I went with him to get his first tattoo, Hattie and Shep in tow too, and while it was really cool to share that experience with him, staring at him shirtless for hours while he got the Celtic cross inked onto his chest was a special kind of torture. I’d almost forgotten just how good he looks unclothed. Sure, I’ve seen it on his social media accounts since we stoppedhooking up, but seeing it in person is a whole other story. The tattoo came out amazing, but I have to force myself not to imagine running my fingers and tongue over the lines more often than I’d care to admit.

We’ve gotten his place completely set up, including a room for Ollie which she absolutely loves.

“Just for me!?” she’d exclaimed when we’d brought her upstairs to do the big reveal. The room actually has it’s own little loft space inside it and is probably the coolest room in the house.

“Just for you, Olligator,” Rizzo had nodded, ruffling her hair. She’d screeched then, thrown her arms around him, and then gone full on kid tornado and torn through the room, trying to look at and play with everything all at once. Hattie had teared up at the sight and then punched Shep in the arm when he called her a big softie, but I’d be lying if seeing Rizzo climb up into the loft to play barbies, doing his best Australian accent because apparently Ken was Australian for unknown reasons, didn’t do some kind of number on my heart…and ovaries.He’s going to make one hell of a dad one day, I’d thought.

Despite him saying that he didn’t want me to make any decisions because of everything that happened with Hattie and Shep, that’s exactly what happened. Seeing how close they came to losing the person they love made me realize how stupid all my fears and insecurities and whatever the hell else that caused me to bolt that night really were. I know what I want and even if there’s a chance that things don’t work out the way I want, that Rizzo isn’t really ready for a relationship and I get my heart broken, it’s worth the risk.

I’m not going to tell him any of that yet, of course. I don’t want him thinking it’s just a knee-jerk reaction, or anything, because it’s really not. The situation just made me push past the bullshit and accept what I’d been feeling for months. Even so,for now, we’re just friends, but I can admit to myself that I’m already falling for him more and more each day.

“How about this one?” I call from across the Christmas tree lot. It’s only a few days away, but they thankfully still have a pretty decent selection.

“Where the hell are you?” he yells back.

“Marco!” I call, running my hands over the limbs of a giant spruce.

“Polo!”

I grin. “Marco!”

He bursts out from behind a tree behind me, settling his big hands on my waist and squeezing, making me yelp and giggle as he tickles me. I whirl and dance out of his grip, smacking his arms.

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