Page 24 of One Pucking Destiny

“Good luck.” Jaden has yet to beat any of us at poker. He has a problem schooling his expression. We can always tell when he’s bluffing.

I throw my arm behind my head. Closing my eyes, I tilt my head back and let the sun warm my skin. There’s a shuffling of chair legs against the patio tile and a scurry of bodies. I open my eyes to see all the guys hurrying toward the covered patio area. I’m too curious to remain by myself, so I follow them.

A crowd of people stand in front of Beckett and Elena to meet this daughter, I assume.

“Hey there. Nice to see you again,” Jaden says in his signature flirtatious tone.

He better watch himself.

When I make it over to the group, I inch through the guys to introduce myself.It’s only polite, after all.

I stop, frozen in place, and my heart starts beating out of my chest while I struggle to pull in a breath. It’s been four and a half months since I last saw her face, one that I never thought I’d see again.

I have scoured Michigan State University’s social media pages for a glimpse of her, looked up all the student lists available online, gone to more college bar nights with Hattie than I care to admit, dropped by the bookstore multiple times, and spent hours walking around the very large college campus like some sort of stalker in hopes of seeing her again. Desperate for a glimpse.

Now, those big, beautiful doe eyes that frequent my dreams stare right back at me.

“Cookie.” Beckett motions me over. “Have you met Elena’s daughter, Ari?”

Her eyes light up with recognition, just for a moment, before she plasters a generic smile on her face. I open my mouth to answer Beckett, searching for the right words. As many times as I’ve hoped to see my mystery Book Girl again, I’m at a loss, the ability to speak vacating my brain. Before I can formulate an answer, she extends a hand and shakes mine. “Nice to meet you…Cookie? That’s an interesting name.” Her response is generic, similar to how she’s greeted every other person here. There’s no evidence of our prior connection.

“You’ll find out the origin of his nickname at the competition tomorrow,” Beckett says casually.

She drops my hand. “Competition?” Ari looks at Beckett.

He supplies a goofy grin. “A cookie baking competition.”

“Man, you hockey players are hard-core. Baking competitions? I’m afraid to ask what I missed the first couple of days.” She chuckles, swiping a lock of her long brunette hair behind her ear, a seemingly mundane gesture. But something was in that movement—a spark of nerves and a plea for secrecy. It fluttered over her face so quickly I almost missed it, but it was there.

There’s no doubt she remembers me, but more than that, she clearly doesn’t want anyone here to know that she does.

“Nice to meet you,” I blurt out, earning some side glances since the moment for that statement has long passed.

The team peppers Ari with questions like a group of middle school children eager to edge their way in with the cool kid.

What are you studying?

When do you graduate?

Where are you planning to live?

What do you think of Beckett and Elena’s marriage? And the baby on the way?

The questions are rattled off in rapid succession. Her responses make it to me, but they’re garbled as if my head is submerged in a pool of water. I feel heavyand weightless all at once. My feet are set in place, anchored to the ground by the shock of her sudden presence in my life while my body floats up in the sky, hopping from cloud to cloud like a gleeful Care Bear overfilled with joy at finally finding her.

Inhaling a steady breath, I take a step back, anxious to leave. I need to clear my head and get my shit together. Increasing my distance from her eases the ache in my chest and allows me to breathe.

When I’ve cleared the pavilion, I turn away and jog toward the mansion that houses my room for the week. It’s not the reaction I thought I’d have when finally finding her, but this isn’t the way I thought that would happen either. I can’t confront her in front of the team. Nor can I speak to her at this moment when words fail me. She’s just arrived, and while I’m not certain how long she’s staying, I know I have time.

My head is muddled with confusion. The visceral reaction I felt with her arrival has thrown me off. This is ridiculous—I know that. I can’t rationalize this feeling. The situation isn’t that deep, or at least it shouldn’t be. I simply need to get her alone and talk to her. She wants more, or she doesn’t. She thinks about our night together, or she doesn’t. Life will go on either way.

I open the door to my room and close it behind me. Leaning my back against the wooden surface, I go over my next steps.

Take a hot shower.

Chill the fuck out.

Call Hattie.

---