Page 48 of My Lucky Charm

Eloise

My belligerent anger in the face of her unwavering kindness doesn’t stand a chance.

The entire trip was a disaster. I walked in here feeling like I wanted to punch a hole through the wall. But now, seeing her name on that paper and holding this meal in my hands, something inside of me softens. Breathes. Relaxes.

I preheat the oven and set the container on the counter, then hang up my coat and start the process of undressing as I walk toward my bedroom. The guest room hasn’t been touched, but as I pass by the bathroom I see rugs, hand towels and a little vase with a fake plant in it on the back of the toilet.

And I’m not sure why, but there are night lights everywhere.

I should thank her when I see her tomorrow. I should express my gratitude for everything she’s done in here.

I know myself, though, and I won’t mention it. I’ll feel stupid.

Plus, the less familiar I am with Eloise, the better.

Distractions are unacceptable, Gray. Stay focused on what matters—your game. Everything else is just noise.

If you’re not the best, what’s the point?

I enter my room, but don’t turn on the light. Instead, I walk over to the opposite wall, which is almost floor-to-ceiling windows with an amazing view of the city. I stare out over the park, and further, the Chicago River.

It’s pretty nice.

It’s a lot different than my view in Philly. And for the first time since the trade, I wonder if this place could ever—ever—feel like home.

I think about what the coach said, that Philly was looking to trade me regardless, and while I don’t want to believe it, it’s most likely true. He’s right—this is part of the game. I knew that when I signed up to play.

I want to be the best. That’s all I’ve ever wanted, and I need to find a way to do that wearing a Comets uniform. I pull my phone out of my pocket and text Burke.

Gray

I’ll be at the rink by 6:30.

I’m surprised when a reply comes in almost immediately:

Burke

See you then.

I throw my shirt in the laundry basket and unbutton my pants as I walk over to my dresser. I’ll pull on sweats, eat the pasta, and try to sleep. And tomorrow, hopefully, I’ll wake up with a new attitude.

I’m about to strip down when I turn and face the bed.

And that’s when I see her.

If it weren’t for the fact that there are no window coverings, I probably wouldn’t have known Eloise had fallen asleep in my bed until I climbed in with her.

Oddly, that idea has the opposite effect on me as it should.

I should be upset that my assistant is sleeping in my bed—it’s a huge violation of our professional relationship—but all I can think is that it’s really nice to see her here.

And she looks peaceful. Beautiful.

I quietly grab a hoodie and my sweatpants and start out the door. But before I leave, I take the new throw blanket from the foot of the bed and spread it out on top of her.

She’s holding the television remote, and I assume she came in here to watch on the only TV in my apartment. I stare at her for a few long seconds, and in a flash, it’s New Year’s Eve, and I’m remembering how it felt to pull her body close to mine, to kiss her like I needed to kiss her.

She’d asked me to kiss her that night to make an ex jealous, but the kiss was just as much for me as it was for her. A connection to another person after years of closing myself off. A very rare moment of weakness when I forgot all of my own rules.

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