Page 17

CHAPTER 17

FOX

“Arthur Francis Fox!”

I pull the phone away from my ear, though it doesn’t do much considering how loudly my mother screeches at me. It’s a damn good thing I didn’t answer this back in the locker room. Everyone would have heard her.

I suppose she has every right. I have been engaged for weeks now and have yet to tell her about it. I knew the moment I saw I had four missed calls from her, she’d found out about it. I’ve been psyching myself up to call her back ever since.

I should have called her when it first happened. I know that. But I’ve been avoiding it, and I’m not entirely sure why. Maybe because I didn’t want to hear her get her hopes up just to let her down. Or maybe because I wasn’t ready to admit just what a mess I’d gotten myself into. I don’t know. All I know is it’s time to face the music and hope my mother doesn’t completely hate me afterward.

“Hi, Mama,” I say, climbing into my Denali in the parking lot of the practice barn.

“Boy!” she hollers, her voice filling every inch of the cab of my truck. “Don’t you ‘mama’ me. Explain yourself.”

“I’m not sure what I’m in trouble for.” I play stupid, but it’s pointless. We both know what this call is about.

“Bullshit.” My mother doesn’t curse often, so when she does, I know she means it. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. You told me you weren’t dating anyone, and now I see this . On the internets, no less!”

“Inter net , Mama. Not internets.”

“I don’t care what it’s called! I want an explanation.”

“Mama, I?—”

“I swear, if another excuse comes out of your mouth, I will fly to Seattle this instant, and we can settle this in person.”

Shit. I believe her, too.

I exhale heavily, then tell her everything going on with Lilah as I pull out of the parking lot and find a spot in bumper-to-bumper traffic on the freeway. She’s quiet for a full minute after I get her up to speed on our situation. Then suddenly, she’s laughing. And laughing some more.

In fact, she laughs for another full minute before I’m finally able to get a word in, my fingers flexing on my steering wheel as traffic moves just twenty-five feet or so.

“Are you good?” I ask her.

“I’m sorry.” She coughs lightly, another chuckle. “I’m sorry. It’s just between you and Regan, I don’t know what to believe about my children’s love lives anymore.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t think it would go this far.”

“Obviously not.”

“Are you mad?”

“I’m not exactly happy. I mean, I thought when you got engaged, it would be because you’re in love and not just doing your friend a favor, but I guess I can’t fault you for that, can I? Especially after hearing how awful her parents are. That poor girl.” She sighs. “What have you gotten yourself into, Artie?”

I don’t even have it in me to be annoyed by my childhood nickname. I’m too busy asking myself the same thing she is. It’s what I’ve been asking myself for weeks now. My teammates—mostly Lawson—have been on my ass about why I didn’t tell them about this before, Locke and Hutch are still looking at me like they know something I don’t, and I’m somehow suddenly playing some of the best hockey of my life. All of this while getting myself more and more involved in Lilah’s life every day.

So, no, I have no idea what I’ve gotten myself into. But I do know I don’t hate it. In fact, I like it. Possibly even too much.

“You have a good heart, and I know that’s why you’re doing this. I guess I just can’t understand why you’re lying to yourself.”

Her words shock me. Lying to myself? What the hell am I lying to myself about? “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you keep emphasizing how fake this arrangement is, but I can hear in your voice that you have some very real feelings for this girl.”

I could deny it. I could tell her she’s making stuff up or seeing more than what’s really there, but that’d be a lie too, and…fuck, I’m tired of lying.

I do have feelings for Lilah. I had an inkling I might before we left for the road trip, and that feeling has just grown since we’ve been gone. It’s not just because nearly every night I’ve talked to her has ended in some incredible phone sex. It’s more than that. It’s the phone calls and the way she makes me laugh and how she watches my games. It’s me ordering nachos at every restaurant we’ve been to just because they remind me of her. It’s so many little things and even all the big ones.

“Is this why you haven’t called me lately? Because you like this girl?”

“I’ve called you.”

“Three two-minute phone calls in the last few weeks isn’t calling me. Not properly.”

Shit. She’s right. I guess I have been sort of avoiding talking to her. Not because I thought she would judge me for what’s going on with Lilah—who I wasn’t lying to about the likelihood of my mother’s reaction—but I guess I just didn’t want to talk for fear of this exact thing right now. My mother knows me better than anyone. She would know if I were hiding something even if I had been hiding it from myself.

I sigh, conjuring my favorite image of Lilah: sitting at my kitchen table with a bit of nacho cheese sauce on her lip, completely oblivious to it. It’s ridiculous I love it so much, but I do. It’s so real. So her .

Of course, other images also come to mind, but I won’t think of them now while on the phone with my mother.

“You really do like her, huh?”

“Yeah.” I clear my throat that’s suddenly heavy. “Yeah, I do. I don’t know exactly when it happened, but yeah.”

“Does she know?”

“Nah. She’s not interested in a relationship. I have to respect that.”

“That doesn’t seem very fair to you.”

I swallow. It’s not fair to me, but it’s what I signed up for. I knew going into this how Lilah felt, and it’s nobody’s fault but my own that I’m in this predicament now. And that’s okay. I’ll play the part of doting fiancé for Lilah. I’ll do what she asks, and I’ll keep my feelings out of it all the while. Sure, it might hurt when we end things after the party, but I’m a big boy. I can take it.

“Promise me you won’t let yourself get hurt.”

I can’t guarantee that, but still, I find myself saying, “I promise, Mama.”

“Good. I love you, you know.”

“I love you too.”

“Then don’t hide things from me anymore. Deal? No matter how insane it is, I want to know these things. And don’t worry—I’ll keep your secret, even at your party.”

“Thanks, Mama. I appreciate it.”

We end our conversation just as I pull up to the parking garage for my building, and I press my card to the monitor. I make my way up to my apartment, my mother’s words ringing in my ears.

Promise me you won’t let yourself get hurt.

I promised, and I lied.

I lied because, after ten minutes in my quiet apartment and an outfit change, I’m racing right back down to my truck and steering it toward Lilah’s. Twenty minutes later, I’m riding the elevator to her floor, then my knuckles are rapping against her door.

Nothing. No answer.

I knock again, and the result is the same.

Shit. I didn’t even think about the possibility of her not being home. I just had to see her, which is a little ridiculous because I just saw her last night, crawling beneath her sheets shortly after our plane landed. When I snuck out this morning for practice, I had every intention of staying away.

Look how well that turned out.

I head back to the elevator, telling myself it’s for the best because I’m getting too attached to her. Still, I can’t help but be disappointed while waiting for the car to arrive. It dings, and I look up just as the doors slide open.

Cerulean. It’s all I see.

Lilah.

Her jaw drops as I take her in: white towel hanging over her shoulder, black leggings that leave nothing to the imagination, and a matching jacket hanging open to reveal a lavender top. There’s a strip of skin showing off her soft stomach that I want to drop to my knees and press my lips to. Her hair is up in a high ponytail. It’s clear she’s just come from the gym, yet she still looks absolutely fucking gorgeous.

“Fox? What are you”—she pushes the button to open the doors on the elevator as they begin to close again—“doing here?”

“I wanted to see you.”

She quirks a brow. “You just saw me this morning.”

I shrug. “I wanted to see you again.”

“Is that so?”

“That’s so.”

She finally steps out, coming to a stop so close the tips of our shoes are touching. “Hi.”

“Hey there, sugar.”

I swear she shivers as I slip my hand up her neck, my fingertips dipping into her hair that’s slightly wet at the roots. I bend, brushing my lips over hers in the softest of kisses, and I love the little whine that leaves her as I pull away.

“I’m glad you wanted to see me,” she says.

“Yeah?”

She nods, swallowing hard. “Yeah.”

I kiss her again. “What do you say we go on another date?”

She smiles up at me. “Yeah, I think I’d like that.”

“When you said another date, I thought you meant like grabbing dinner or something.”

“We are getting dinner.”

Lilah rolls her eyes at me. “And that requires a ferry ride?”

“Do you want the best pizza of your life, or do you want adequate pizza?”

She huffs, tugging her jacket tighter around her. “The best pizza of my life sounds nice, but I wish I had known so I could have grabbed a warmer jacket. I’m in a skirt, for goodness’ sake.”

“A very sexy skirt, if I do say so.” I slide my hand over her ass that’s covered by a tight silky black skirt, her deep blue long-sleeved shirt tucked into it. I sling my arm around her, pulling her to me as she shivers. “Better?”

“Much.” She snuggles in closer, and I press a kiss to her head. “I know this is so silly because I grew up here and taking the ferry is just part of everyday transportation for many people, but I love ferry rides.” It’s cute the way her eyes light up as she says it.

“Yeah? How come?”

She lifts her shoulders. “Maybe it’s because my parents always used a car service to take us wherever we wanted, and they forbade us from using public transportation. Or maybe it’s just how beautiful the scenery is. I don’t know. I just love it.”

“It is really nice out here.”

“Have you ever been out here when they’ve stopped for the whales? It’s so cool.”

“Can’t say that I have. Now I feel robbed.”

“You should. It’s a lot cheaper than an actual whale scouting tour, that’s for sure.” I laugh, and she pokes at my stomach. “What? Why are you laughing at me?”

“Nothing. I just find it funny that you’re…well, you , and you’re complaining about the price of a boat tour.”

“That’s how the rich stay rich, baby. Save money where they can.”

“You sound like Lawson.”

“Ew. Don’t compare me to him.”

“He’s not that bad.” She gives me an offended look, and I laugh again. “All right. Fine. He can be that bad.”

“Poor Rory.”

“Now you sound like my mom.”

“Does she know Lawson? Or any of your teammates?”

“No, but I talk to her enough that it feels like she knows them.” I exhale heavily, thinking of my conversation with her just this morning. “Speaking of my mother…”

Lilah peers up at me, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip. “Why don’t I like the sound of that?”

“It’s not bad. I, uh, I actually told her about us.”

“You did? What did she say?”

“Well, as expected, she laughed.”

Lilah sighs, relieved. “Good. I think. She thinks we’re nuts, doesn’t she?”

“Very much so.”

“That seems to be the consensus, doesn’t it?”

I shrug. “Yeah, but who cares? Are you happy with what we’re doing?”

She hesitates. It’s only for a moment, but it happens.

Finally, she says, “I’m having the best orgasms of my life. How could I not be?”

She smiles, but there’s a wobble to it like she’s hiding something. I want to call her on it, but that’d make me a hypocrite. I’m hiding something, too. Like the fact that I’m not only happy with what we’re doing but want to do it for real. Maybe not the whole engagement part—that’s way too fast—but the relationship part. That’s what I want.

I don’t tell her any of that. I keep it buried deep, not wanting to scare her away. I have a feeling if Lilah were to get even an inkling of indication that what we’re doing is becoming real, she’d run. I don’t want her to run. I want her to stay right here with me.

“Good,” I tell her as she snuggles into me again. “Good.”

We don’t talk much as we reach the end of our ferry ride, the big boat pulling into the terminal nestled against the coast of the small town of Kingston.

“This is so cute,” she says as she looks up the street lined with shops. “How did you find this place?”

“I try to explore as much as I can when we’re not playing. Sometimes, I just drive and see where the road takes me. In this case, I hopped on a ferry and found it.”

“You’re so much braver than me. I don’t even explore that much, and I’ve lived here forever.”

“To be fair, you’ve spent the last ten years working your ass off creating something magical with your best friend. You didn’t exactly have time to explore.”

I hate how surprised she looks at my words, like praise isn’t something she’s used to getting.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” she asks, still doing it.

I stop, tugging her to me, and she lets out a soft gasp. I place my hand on her cheek, tipping her head back until I’m peering down into the blue eyes I can’t get enough of. I need her to know I mean it, know I see her.

“Like you don’t think you deserve my words. You did something incredible with Auden. Sure, it might have been her company, but you were as much a part of that as she was, Lilah. Don’t let anyone try to steal that from you. Especially not your parents, okay? Don’t let them diminish everything you did, everything you worked for. Auden wouldn’t have been able to sell her company for half of what she did if it weren’t for you, and if you think your bestie doesn’t know that, too, then you’re wrong. You’re a damn incredible woman. I hope you know that.”

She swallows once, twice. “I do now.”

Then she presses up on her tiptoes and lays her lips softly against mine. It’s a quick kiss, a chaste one, yet somehow, it feels like so much more.

“What was that for?” I ask as she pulls away.

She shrugs. “Because I wanted to.”

She tugs on my hand and leads us across the street like she’s the one who knows where we’re going.

Her eyes widen when she spots the crêperie to the right. “Please tell me we can go there after dinner.”

I grin at her excitement. “That was the plan.”

“God, I love you.”

I stumble. I lose my footing on flat ground, nearly taking us both tumbling to the sidewalk as I run right into Lilah. We both know how she meant it, but it feels far too real considering our situation.

I don’t know which one of us recovers first, but we continue walking as if nothing happened. She pretends she didn’t just say those three words, I pretend they didn’t make my heart hammer in my chest, and we both pretend we’re not in way over our heads.

“You were right. That was the best pizza I’ve ever had,” Lilah says, sitting on the ferry with her hand on her stomach. She unzipped her skirt the second we sat down. “And that crepe? The ice cream? I think that might have been my favorite date ever.”

“Better than the nachos?”

“Sorry.” Though she doesn’t sound sorry at all, but I’m okay with that. “Can we please talk about that pesto and garlic chicken pizza again?”

“To be fair, it’s all you’ve talked about since your first bite.”

“Can you blame me? It was incredible. Well worth the garlic breath I have right now.”

“I like your garlic breath.”

“It’s great garlic breath,” she agrees. “And that sourdough crust? Ugh. It was perfection.”

“It’s one of my favorite parts of living here. Seattle loves its sourdough, and it’s my favorite kind of bread. My mother used to make it all the time growing up.”

“I love the way you talk about your family.”

“They’re my favorite people in the world. I wouldn’t be where I am without them.”

“How’d you even get into hockey living in the South? It’s not huge there, right?”

“There have been a few renditions of professional hockey in Atlanta over the years, but as a whole, no, it’s not huge there. My dad was a fan after going to college with a guy from Canada. He got him into it, and after that, he was hooked. Never missed a game on TV. I used to sit in the living room and watch along with him, and my obsession grew from there. I asked for my first pair of skates when I was six. The rest is history.”

“That’s actually really sweet, Fox. I bet he’s proud of you.”

I think of the text he sent me before the last game, a quick Good luck, kid . He sends the same one before every one of my appearances in net.

“Immensely,” I tell her. “Doesn’t let me ever forget it, either.”

She squeezes my thigh. “I’m glad you have that.”

“I’m sorry you don’t.”

“That sounds—” She yawns, the rest of her words stolen.

I chuckle. “I’m sorry. Did I bore you?”

“No.” She shakes her head, turning sideways as the ferry disembarks. She stretches her legs out over mine, and I run my hand over her idly. “Sorry. I’m just wiped. So, why goalie? Don’t they always say you have to be a little crazy to be a goalie?”

“Maybe, but I like to think it’s that you’re a little brave. I mean, facing down those shots? That’s not crazy. That’s courageous.”

“I like that you”—she yawns again, her eyelids growing heavy—“think of it that way.”

I laugh again. “Rest, Lilah.”

“Huh?”

“Rest.”

“No. What if I fall asleep?” she asks, her eyes barely open now, and I have no doubt she will fall asleep.

“Then I’ll carry you to the car.”

She huffs out a half-hearted laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Only when it comes to you.”

She smiles, mumbling something I can’t quite make out, her breaths already evening out as she falls fast asleep, and that’s how she stays through the rest of the ride. Not even the announcement that the ferry is approaching the destination rouses her from her sleep. So, I do as I promised—I haul her into my arms and carry her off the ferry and all the way to the car. She doesn’t stir until I’m buckling her into the seat. Only then does she blink open her eyes.

“Did you carry me?”

“Of course I did, sugar.”

She smiles, her eyes fluttering back closed. She sleeps the whole car ride back to her apartment and I carry her right to her door, where I barely get her on her feet to unlock it.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m so tired.”

“It was all the food.”

“Mmm,” she agrees, swaying on her feet a bit as she pushes the door open. She moves inside her apartment, leaving the door ajar like she expects me to follow.

I tell myself I do it just to make sure she’s okay, but the truth is, I don’t want to go home to my apartment. I don’t want to be alone tonight. I want to be with her. I trail behind her as she makes her way to her bedroom, kicking her shoes off along the way. Next comes her shirt, and then her skirt hits the floor.

She looks back over her shoulder at me, a tired smile playing on her lips. “You coming?”

I should say no. I should leave. I should do a lot of things, but I don’t. Instead, I keep going, pulling my clothes off right along with her. When we finally make it to her bedroom and slip beneath her sheets, I pull her as close as she can possibly get.

“Have you been buying turtles?”

“Hmm?” she asks, already half asleep.

“Have you been buying turtles?”

“Oh. That.” She shrugs. “I might have found a few. They’re for you.”

“For me?”

“Of course. What do I need turtles for?”

I want to point out that I don’t need turtles either given the robust collection I already have, but I don’t.

Lilah bought me turtles.

I grin.

“Stop,” she grumbles. “I can feel you smiling.”

“No, you can’t.”

“Yes, I can.” She pinches me, then kisses the same spot. “Stop being weird about it.”

“I’m not being weird. I think it’s sweet.”

“They’re just turtles.”

“Just turtles,” I agree, but they feel like so much more than that. I know it, and Lilah knows it too.

She snuggles even closer to me, her breaths beginning to even out.

“Good night, Lilah Jane Maddison.”

“Good night, Arthur Francis Fox.”

She’s asleep moments later, but I lie awake for hours thinking about how Lilah, the girl who doesn’t believe in relationships or love, thought about me while I was gone.

And how I thought about her too.