Page 97 of Your Pucking Mom

Ledger shrugged again. “I guess not. Told Alex where it was and then Stassi might have broken in and gotten it.”

I decided I’d chat with Austin when I got back to explain. With only four outfits packed, it meant we were here for three days. Since it was my first time outside the States, I was determined to make the most of it.

We made our way up the stairs to the hotel entrance, and I settled into one of the plush orange chairs while Ledger went to check us in. My gaze drifted out over the bustling street below. People-watching was a hobby I relished, each passerby a potential character in a story of my own creation. Some sauntered leisurely, as if time were an endless luxury, while others hurried past, caught in the urgency of their own lives.

Tourists were easy to spot, their curious glances drawn inevitably to the ancient castle perched majestically atop the hill, its weathered stones cloaked in moss. From my vantage point, it seemed to preside over the entire city.

“Sunshine?” Ledger’s voice broke through my reverie. I looked up to find his typically soft expression laden with concern.

“I wanted to make sure you were comfortable, so I’d reserved what I thought was the penthouse suite, complete with two rooms and two beds. But there’s been a mix-up,” he confessed, his fingers idly twisting together. Dressed in a matching black sweatsuit, his demeanor was unusually uncertain.

Ledger’s commanding presence towered over me. His dark locks cascaded in a disheveled veil across his face, framing features chiseled with determination. Beneath his eyes, faint circles betrayed the weight of a sleepless night from the airplane. Yet it was his whiskey-colored eyes that held me spellbound, pools of warmth and intensity searching mine. His presence was a symphony of contrasts—strength and fragility, darkness and light—melding into an irresistible harmony.

“It’s okay.” I stood, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him down closer to me. “We’re sleeping together, but I appreciate you looking out for me.”

“Always,” he whispered. “I’ll always look out for you.” He kissed me softly before grabbing our bags and heading up to the room.

There was something about this little life I was living. It felt so surreal, like I was the main character in my own story. I never deserved to be the main character. I was always the black sheep. I was never enough for anyone, including myself, so it was almost like I didn’t know how to be here.

As Ledger and I stepped into the elevator, I squeezed his hand tightly, my silent promise resonating in the confined space. “I’ll always give my all for you,” I affirmed, my voice steady with determination.

* * *

We may have both passed out the entire night and never made it to our dinner reservations, but we were up bright and early. Ledger was taking me to his favorite breakfast place with the best Scottish breakfast in the city with the infamous haggis, then we would go to Holyroodhouse Palace, a working palace for the King of England.

We walked a mile down the road to the restaurant, past all the buildings that were bright colors against the gloomy day. I paused as Ledger held open the door for me.

I drank him in. He was casual, wearing a pair of jeans and a black sweater with a green jacket over it. I was in a pair of leggings and an oversized black sweater that Stassi had packed with my green puffer. I couldn’t help but realize that we were matching and that was somewhat intentional.

But it wasn’t what we were wearing that made me pause. Ledger seemed perfectly happy. He looked carefree, and those dark lines he sported beneath his eyes seemed to have left overnight.

“What?” He laughed as he continued to hold the door open.

“You.” I gave him a little smile before we headed into the small restaurant.

As we stepped through the heavy wooden door, we were greeted by a blend of old-world charm and contemporary flair. The interior boasted sleek furnishings and minimalist decor, a striking contrast to the historical facade that hinted at centuries of stories whispered within its walls.

Seated by a window overlooking the mist-shrouded square, we had a front-row view of the bustling activity below. Across the way, government buildings stood with an air of stoic importance.

Ledger took charge of ordering, selecting two hearty Scottish breakfasts and pots of fragrant Earl Grey tea from our server, whose warm smile and thick accent added to the charm of the establishment.

“What’s on your mind?” Ledger’s voice broke through my reverie, his dimples teasing as he caught my gaze.

“You look different,” I said, leaning in so I was closer to him. “Have you been here before?”

“Twice when I was a kid.”

“You don’t talk about your family. Tell me about them.” Ledger smiled widely.

“I love my parents. They just aren’t around. Since I went pro, they have their own lives and I have mine.” I sighed. “They usually come to the last game of the season, but especially because this is going to be my last one. I guess I don’t have much to say because truthfully my entire life was consumed with hockey. I knew when I was young what I wanted to be, so I was forced to live and breathe hockey.”

Ledger paused, reaching out atop the table, his fingers opened as if waiting for mine. I placed mine into his, and his face seemed to conform to the comfort.

“I guess I never realized what life was going to be like when I retired. I knew this was the last year I had in me, but I don’t know what the future looks like. This sport has consumed me for so long I don’t know what I’ll do without it.”

He paused, then let go of my hands and gestured around him before huffing out a laugh. “Heck, the last time I was here, I was playing hockey when I was a kid, so it was never a vacation.”

I gave him an assured smile. “I understand what it feels like to be our age and feel like we’re at this precipice of starting over. It’s a fucking weird feeling like you’re balancing off the edge of the cliff and everyone wants you to jump but you have no idea what you’re jumping into.”

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