Page 20 of Any Second Now (Fort Collins Blizzard Hockey #2)

Outdated Millennial

RALEIGH

I mpressive social media engagement and new orders proves that people like quotes about hockey players. And zombies.

I wonder if I should combine them?

But my fingers are sore, and I need a break from doing cross-stitch.

That last video I posted racked up more views after last weekend, and I got two new orders.

That might not sound like a lot, but it takes a few hours to stitch each quote.

My pile of hoops with flowers already stitched on them is getting lower, so my next goal is to get ahead in case I keep getting steady orders.

But for now, I’m caught up, so I’m going to take a break and continue reading the travel memoir Atticus got me.

I carefully approach the hammock, like it’s a wild animal I’m trying not to startle.

I’ve tried to get into this thing multiple times but each time I chicken out—no offense, Megghen—because I’m terrified of spinning around and landing face down in the grass.

But I googled it. I’ve gotta start with my butt in the center of the hammock, then get a hand on both sides of the contraption before slowly swinging my legs up and around.

And then the key is to lie diagonally, not straight, to keep stable.

I can do this. I wasn’t an athlete when I was young, but I’m not as clumsy as Lucy. She’d end up on the ground for sure. But I haven’t gotten in yet, and I feel bad that Atticus spent all this money on me and it’s just sitting—er, hanging?—here.

I tuck the book under my arm and slide my butt onto the hammock very slowly.

So far so good.

Megghen boc boc bocs at me from her sturdy chicken coop.

“Don’t watch me!” I hiss and give her the dirtiest look.

She keeps staring, cocking her chicken head.

“I’m a chicken, not you,” I say in her chicken voice. “Just get in the stupid hammock.”

I roll my eyes. Why is she always so judgmental?

“Fine. I’m not trying to impress you anyway.” I grip the sides of the hammock like it’s the floating door next to a sinking ship in the middle of the ocean. “I can do this,” I whisper. Then I look around and crack up.

What on earth am I doing?

Like right now, this very second, but also with my life?

Why do I dream about never going back to my pharmacy job again?

I really, really need to explore what that’s about. I thought my dream was to take a break from my life in Connecticut, have a few adventures on the road, get some space from the small town where both my ex-husbands and my mother live.

Now that I’m out, I kinda never want to go back.

But what, exactly, do I never want to go back to? My job? That town? Any small suburban environment? Proximity to my exes?

It’s not clear.

And then what would I do? Cross-stitch? Even if I did it twelve hours a day, I don’t think I could make enough to pay rent or a mortgage .

I love not being trapped in the pharmacy all day.

I love letting my mind wander and taking care of Megghen.

Fort Collins is growing on me, which is amusing because over the past year, January and I had to listen to Lucy gradually fall in love with this place without even realizing it.

It’s different with me, of course. One hundred percent different. Lucy ran away from her old life to try to prove something to them.

I’m doing it to prove something to myself.

To prove I’m choosing the right life, not just staying in it because I’m an object in motion on a certain path and I’ll stay that way unless something stops me.

I slowly swing my legs up and slide them onto the hammock, sighing with relief. I lean back—diagonally—and smile up into the trees.

Hell yeah!

I set the memoir on my belly and carefully pull out my phone to take a picture to send to Atticus.

Me

I finally got my ass into the hammock!

His response is immediate, which is how it is with us these days.

Atticus

it took you this long? I could’ve given you a lesson

how’s the book?

We’ve hung out multiple times since going for a drink with Lachlan and Barrett Steele after practice last weekend. It’s like we’ve given up dating lessons and just let ourselves fall into our… friendship?

That’s what this is .

It feels like more. But it’s not.

Besides the kissing during zombie movie night.

Oh, and the kiss on New Year’s Eve.

And that’s it.

Otherwise, just friends.

Two days ago we had lunch in downtown Fort Collins and walked the streets after. When we approached the street with the coffee shop and A Good Book, I suggested going in. He simply said no.

Then I asked him when he was going to ask out Rose the bookstore employee, but he just gave me a funny look.

Thinking about our kisses?

Because I’m always thinking of our kisses.

Me

Haven’t started it yet. If I follow her path, I’ll only have to visit 35 places before my next birthday, not 53. Doable, yeah?

Atticus

that your plan?

Me

Sure is not

Atticus sends a laughing emoji and I look back up into the trees. Traveling sounds great, but I’m not the person that January is, flitting around the globe and living in a bunch of different countries, traveling, exploring.

My phone buzzes on my chest.

Atticus

do you have time to save me? Lachlan is dragging me out again with Barrett Steele tonight

Me

That kid is your nemesis

Atticus

I just don’t like him

I chuckle. It hadn’t escaped my notice that Atticus was a bit off last weekend when we were out with Barrett. I can kind of understand it. He’s a hockey star coming onto the team to replace their friend. He’s also the player who is responsible for Atticus’s injury.

But I think if Atticus gives him a chance, Barrett might fit right in with him and Lachlan. The three of them could charm the pants off the entire state of Colorado.

I don’t think I imagined it that Atticus was getting particularly annoyed when Barrett turned his attention to me. It was innocent, though, and Atticus must see that. Barrett is good-looking and entertaining, but I’m zero percent interested in a twenty-five-year-old professional hockey player.

I pick up my phone again.

Me

So what’s the plan?

I am not a huge drinker.

And from what Lucy tells me, during the season, neither are most of the hockey boys. Their bodies are their jobs and they are hyper focused on staying fit.

We are not in hockey season, but Atticus hasn’t drank a ton tonight.

I’ve had two glasses of wine, but that’s it for me. I don’t want to get sloppy—or sweaty, as it’s hot tonight—and I plan to drive home at some point.

Although that ship might have sailed. Will a ride service take me to the campsite? Probably, but it feels extra uncomfortable to take a hired car into the woods.

“It’s too bad Melissa’s out of town this weekend again. I would’ve loved for you two to meet her.” Lachlan looks between me and Barrett.

“And here we go.” Atticus sighs deeply and raises his eyes to the sky.

I watch the conversation with a grin on my face.

“She’s the love of my life, mate,” Lachlan says.

“Amazing.” Barrett drains his beer and slams it on the table. “And the kind of sappy, whipped love that I hope never finds me.”

“What?” Lachlan furrows his brow.

We’re sitting outside on Main Street in downtown Fort Collins, the bar is crowded, and the night is beautiful.

I’m in a cute graphic t-shirt that has a mountain and Colorado on it, and a pair of straight jeans with a hole in the right knee.

I did some shopping in town this week and am working on getting out of the I’m a pharmacist look.

My usual go-to has been black pants or skinny jeans and a boring, work appropriate short-sleeved shirt.

I have very reluctantly put my skinny jeans in the back of a drawer in the Pink Palace.

I haven’t been to bars regularly in years.

A lot of years.

And I don’t want to look like some outdated Millennial.

The fact that I’m even thinking about this kind of thing means I am, in fact, an outdated Millennial.

“I’m happy for you, but relationships are not for me. They’re just a big distraction. And I like being free. Especially as a hockey player—women basically line up to be with me.” Barrett slides a glance to me, seeming to remember I’m there. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m not lining up to be with anyone.” I’m definitely not. And that feels good. The thing is, I loved the idea of relationships. I loved the idea of marriage. That must be true, given I got married twice before the age of thirty .

But I’m not sure if it’s meant to be for me.

I think this adventure I’m going on is the right thing. I think letting myself discover all my hidden layers—the ones I’ve missed over the past thirty-four years while I’ve been following my spreadsheet—is right.

“Don’t be a dick, man.” Atticus shakes his head at Barrett.

Being around these pro hockey players is wild. Apparently, all they’ve been doing is sleeping with the women who throw themselves at them.

I’ve only had sex with two men in my entire life, and I married both of them.

My cheeks heat just thinking about how sheltered I am in that category.

“Are you telling me you don’t enjoy when girls line up for you? I’ve heard the rumors about you two.” Barrett looks pointedly at Lachlan and then Atticus.

“Yeah, we used to be like that.” Atticus’s face tightens. “But once I saw thirty bearing down on me, things changed.”

“And when Melissa found me a few months ago…” Lachlan says in a dreamy voice.

“Lordy.” Atticus groans and looks down into his half-full pint. “Please, spare us.”

Barrett chuckles and Atticus joins in a beat later. Aw, are they bonding?

“Hey.” Lachlan narrows his eyes at them.

“Seriously though,” Atticus says to Barrett when their laughter fades. “At some point you gotta realize there’s more to it then hooking up with a ton of women.”

My breath catches in my throat. Did Atticus Knox really just say that?

“Do I really gotta?” Barrett snorts.

I glance around the table. Lachlan’s wide-eyed staring at Atticus, who has a contemplative expression on his face. Barrett’s shaking his head and looking disgusted .