Page 58 of The Rookie

“She said they were friends. She said he called her Charlotte and…I guess not. She’s not like that. She’s not the kind of girl to go after bigger and better, like Breton. She’s not even looking for a way out of here, not really.” No, she’s not like that at all. She’s sweet and kind and loyal and smart, and driven, and…she’s a daughter who wants to do right by her mother, but I know she doesn’t belong in Toronto, which was why I did what I did. Not that she belongs in Seattle either, but she’s driven to show her mother who she really is and what she really wants, by experiencing more.

“She said she didn’t know who I was? I thought she knew I was a simple farm boy who was good at hockey. I thought…I thought she liked that guy. Was I wrong?”

“You’re not. She likes that guy, Wes. But maybe tonight, whatever was said, made her think you were that NHL player who had a harem of women, and that you wanted to make her into one of them, with the right clothes…name…job.”

My heart somersaults in my chest as sweat breaks out on my skin. “Fuck.” I go still and work to quiet my mind as my synapses fire at dangerous speeds. “Jesus, you’re right. I called her Charlotte. I bought her a dress. I arranged a job interview in my hometown. When I apologized…I was apologizing for the job—thought I’d overstepped—but maybe she thought I was apologizing for trying to change her…and the fact that I did apologize was proof that I was trying to make her into Breton, or a bunny. Now it makes sense.” I exhale harshly. “Shit.”

My friends fall silent as I puzzle things out, and a boat engine has me lifting my head, searching for the woman I’m in love with.

“You would never do that,” Jules says quietly.

“No, but I can see why she thought I was trying to change her, that I didn’t know who she was…” I put my hand over my heart. “But I know who she is in here.” I tug on the collar of my shirt, even though it’s not the fabric constricting my breathing. It’s the thoughts of losing Charlie. “She never let me finish explaining and jumped to conclusions, and I know why. I know exactly why she did that.”

When it comes right to the heart of the matter, Charlie is afraid of losing herself, of following in her mother’s footsteps only to end up alone. She said she never met anyone who wanted the same things as her, but she was wrong. I’m that man. I want what she wants, but went about it in ways that scared her, ways that made her think I was making her into something she wasn’t, something that fit the vision of the NHL player—not the simple farm boy.

I am such a dense asshole.

Jules touches my arm, brings my attention back to her. “You two need to talk.”

I take a deep breath of the heavy night air, smoke from the fireworks thick on my tongue. “How will I ever make her listen to me?”

“I don’t know, but you better figure it out,” Rider says.

“Maybe I can get her on the boat,” Jules says. “And you can take her to the middle of the ocean where she has no choice but to listen.”

“I don’t want to trick her into anything. I want to be completely honest.”

“Yeah, you’re right and she’ll probably dive in and swim to shore,” Jules says, nodding her head like she’s envisioning it.

“That’s true,” Rider agrees. “She’s a woman who knows her own mind, that’s for sure. But she’s also a woman in love, so this needs to be fixed.”

I go quiet, my heart aching to be with the woman I’m in love with. What the hell can I do to prove to her that I love her, that I know her and care about her and only have her best interests at heart? Voices boom behind us on the street, Digby Day’s grand marshal’s voice louder than the rest as he rings his bell, and that’s when an idea hits harder than a runaway puck.

“I know what to do.”

18

Charlie

Iglance up from the scallop shucking demonstration to see Jules coming my way. My heart hammers and I blink my tired eyes—compliments of a sleepless night—to see if it’s really her or if I’m seeing things. I honestly don’t know what to expect. Will she be upset that I stormed out on Wes, or will she understand what happened? Does it matter? It’s not like I’ll see her again after today and the only reason I’m sitting at this table is because I made a commitment, even though I’m sure I’m the talk of the town today.

“Hi,” she says and smiles as she stands across the table from me, bracing her hands on the back of the chair.

“Hi Jules.”

Her smile is warm, and some of the tension inside me eases. “I’m here for the shucking demonstration.”

I gesture toward the chair in front of her. “Have a seat.”

She pulls the chair out and sits in it, leaning forward to examine the scallops. “Okay, so how do we do this?”

I pick up a scallop, stare at it, then drop it again. “Do you really want to do this?”

She crinkles her nose. “I actually just wanted to see how you were doing.”

I exhale, and my stupid chin begins to quiver as my pulse pounds at the base of my throat. “I’m okay.” It’s a lie. I’m not okay. I’m not sure I’ll ever be okay again. “How is Wes?” God, what am I doing? I don’t know, but despite everything, I want to talk about him. Want to hear his name on my tongue, want to remember every minute with him.

“He’s not so great.”

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