Page 54

Shep stares at her, chewing slowly. “You climbed the water tower? No offense, Lucinda, but JoJo’s always been the daredevil. A tomboy all the way when you’re worried about breaking a nail. I mean, remember that summer Joely bungee jumped off Virgil’s shed for a fifty?”

Lucinda smiles—sharp, catlike. “I’m full of surprises, Shep. Besides, you think I don’t know Brogan’s number is twenty-nine? Or that he scored his first hat trick on February 13th, 2016 against Duluth? Power play percentage last year was sixty-seven. Sorrowville record. I know everything about him.” She rattles it off like she’s reading my Wikipedia page, not a fan who was actually there. “I know his game, and I know when he needs a little pick me up.”

Shep whistles, eyes wide. “Damn, you been studying or something?”

Lucinda leans even closer to me, voice honey-thick. “That’s what you do when you care about someone. You remember the little things. The big things. You go out of your way to make them feel special.” She lays a manicured hand on my arm, all fake sweetness. And everywhere her fingers touch, I feel nothing.

My stomach pitches like the floor’s dropped out from under me. Joely never said a word about stats, about hat tricks or records. She just… showed up. Did the small stuff. Was herself.

Now, I’m starting to wonder if I got it wrong. If maybe I wanted it to be Joely so bad, I just saw what I wanted.

Lucinda leans back, triumphant. “Anyway, I’m glad you liked everything, Brogan. I just wanted you to know who’s got your back.”

Shep grins, but his eyes flick to me, uncertainty shadowing his smile.

For the first time all morning, the eggs taste like nothing.

Shep squints at Lucinda like he’s trying to read the fine print on a bottle of cough syrup. “I still can’t believe it.” He scratches his head, looking at me like I should know the answer. “I mean, JoJo’s the only one in Sorrowville who’d graffiti something without spelling ‘ass’ in the middle. No offense.”

Lucinda laughs, a sound so sugary it makes my teeth ache. “I have my ways, Shep. Just because I didn’t announce it to the whole bar doesn’t mean I didn’t put in the effort.”

Shep tilts his head, grinning. “Okay, so if you did the coasters, how come they all look like JoJo’s writing? You ever seen Lucinda’s penmanship, Brogan? It’s like a ransom note from a left-handed toddler.”

I snort, but it comes out flat. The memory of those dumb coasters—her loopy hearts, the silly faces, the way Joely would hand one to me with a little smirk—burns bright and sharp. Could Lucinda really be behind all that? Why would she bother? She was always hovering around, yeah, but she never cared about the little stuff. Not really.

Lucinda waves him off, cool as ice. “I just wanted it to look authentic. That’s what makes a grand gesture special—when it feels personal.”

Shep makes a face. “That’s… weirdly strategic for a love note. JoJo just does stuff. She’s not exactly a planner.”

Lucinda shrugs, feigning innocence. “You’d be surprised what I’m capable of, Shep. People only see what they want to see. I’m so much more than just a pretty face.”

I hate to break it to her, but people aren’t looking at her face.

There’s a beat where Shep glances at me, clearly hoping I’ll jump in and set the record straight. My mind reels. I’m replaying every moment—the rock, the paint, the coasters, Joely’s shysmiles and quiet glances. I thought I knew her. Thought she’d gone out of her way to show me I mattered. But Lucinda’s got answers for everything, and it’s making me feel like an idiot.

Shep isn’t finished, though. He grabs a napkin and a pen from the holder. “Alright. Let’s see it. Write ‘Foster is a dork’ like you did on the coasters.”

Lucinda rolls her eyes but obliges, scribbling the words in bubbly letters. Shep holds it up to the light. “Eh… Not bad. But JoJo always draws a little heart under the ‘s’. See?” He points. “That’s her move.”

Lucinda just smiles, like the whole thing’s a game she’s already won. “Maybe I picked up a few of Joely’s tricks over the years. I do spend a lot of time at Power Play, you know.”

Shep shrugs, not convinced but not sure what else to say. “Yeah, well, I still think you’d chicken out at the top of the water tower. Your jeans are too tight to climb a ladder and not fall off.”

Lucinda leans in, dropping her voice. “You never know what people are willing to do for the right person. Even wear leggings.”

Her eyes lock on mine, and for a second, I see something hard and sharp flicker there—ambition, maybe. Or desperation. My stomach lurches.

Shep goes back to his pancakes, muttering something about handwriting analysis and how his mom can always tell when he forges her signature. I want to laugh, but all I feel is this knot tightening in my gut.

I look at Lucinda, really look, and wonder if I’ve missed something big—if I’ve been so caught up in what I wanted that I didn’t see what was right in front of me. Maybe I’m just another dumbass hockey player, fooled by a pretty face and a sweet lie.

For the first time since last night, I’m not sure which way is up.

Lucinda leans in, lowering her voice so only I can hear. “You know, one more thing, Brogan. I was at Power Play last night.Stayed till close. Saw a lot.” Her lips curve, glossy and mean. “Saw you slip into the back with Joely. Thought maybe you’d want to keep that quiet, huh?”

The words hit like a puck to the sternum. My skin goes cold. I don’t move. I can’t. Did anyone else see? Did she see everything? Did the whole town see?

She glances at Shep, who’s busy drenching his pancakes in syrup, oblivious to the landmine that just went off. Lucinda turns back to me, voice soft but slicing. “Brogan, you gotta be careful. I mean, it’s one thing to blow off steam—but you know what happens when people start talking. And they always talk in Sorrowville.”