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27

Lennon

L uke spent the first part of our practice yesterday making sure I understood that what we both clearly want can never happen, but then capped it off by making plans tonight for us. I was fully prepared to order a pizza, make some brownies, and ring in the new year from the couch.

But instead, I look anxiously outside the window at the snowy streets below, waiting for his car to pull up. I glance at my phone. It’s a little past seven, and I wonder if he’s regretting his decision to say he’d pick me up tonight. He never gave me any further details. Maybe he decided it was a stupid idea.

But then my phone buzzes.

64: Downstairs

I look back out the window and sure enough, his sleek black car sits on the street waiting for me. I grab my coat from the hanger and toss it on as I walk downstairs and push out into the chilly night air. The neighborhood is quiet with most students away for the holidays. Still, I double check my surroundings before climbing into Luke’s car.

I sigh in relief at the warm interior and hold my hands in front of the vent. “Hi.”

“Cold?” He puts the car in gear and pulls away from the curb.

“Freezing. I swear between all the time spent in the rink and then surviving the winter, half of my blood has to be ice.”

He shakes his head at my complaining, and I take a good look at him. His hair is pushed back from his face and curling around his ears, the tips brushing the collar of his black jacket. He’s in dark jeans, and I can’t tell what kind of shirt, but a silver watch glints on his wrist.

“That looks expensive.”

He follows my eyeline and flexes his wrist. “That’s because it is.”

“How much was it?”

“I don’t know. Bought it a long time ago.”

“Ballpark it.”

He shrugs. “Ten-ish grand? Maybe more.”

My mouth drops open. Sometimes I forget that he’s not a career coach like Coach Maver and that he very much lives in a different tax bracket than me. “That’s like, an entire year’s worth of rent for me.”

“I only wear it for special occasions.”

“This is a special occasion?”

He pulls at the collar of his jacket, a contrite look on his face. “Shut up.”

I don’t bother hiding my grin as I sink into the seat. “Where are we going?” We can’t go out anywhere around campus where there might be someone that would recognize either of us.

“You hungry?” he asks.

“Yeah. I didn’t eat because I didn’t know what the plan was.”

“Good. There’s a diner a few towns over I thought we could grab dinner at.”

A diner? When he’s wearing a watch worth thousands of dollars? The juxtaposition makes me laugh. “Sounds good to me.”

We ride in relative silence, both content to listen to the radio. A few flurries fall from the sky, but it’s not enough to create issues for Luke driving. He taps his fingers against the wheel, and the longer we drive, the more fidgety he gets.

“Regretting inviting me out?” I ask as we pull up to a red light.

He watches my reaction as he says, “I should be. But no.”

Butterflies explode in my stomach. “Good.” I blush.

“Regretting saying yes?”

“I should be, but no,” I repeat.

His eyes flick back and forth between mine before he turns them back on the road. “Good.”

The diner is cute. Red vinyl booths, retro decorations covering every inch of the walls, and more neon signs than actual lighting illuminate the space. Our booth is in the back corner near the jukebox, and only a few people are scattered around the rest of the place.

Luke claims they have the best burgers, so I let him order for the both of us.

Our waitress approaches with drinks in hand. “Regular,” she says, sliding a glass in front of Luke. “And a diet.” She places one in front of me. “Food will be up shortly.”

“Thank you,” I say. Luke hands me a straw, and I rip the paper off of it. “I’m shocked you drink regular Coke.”

He frowns at me. “Why is that surprising? Don’t a lot of people drink Coke?”

“Yes, but you were a professional athlete. I would’ve thought you’d be a little more health conscious.”

“You’re drinking soda, too.”

I take a sip and moan at the crisp carbonation. “Yes, but it’s diet.”

He balks. “That’s literally just chemicals. It doesn’t make it any better.”

“Yes it does.”

“No it doesn’t. You can pry the Coke out of my dead hands.”

“I bet you can’t even taste the difference.”

“There’s a huge difference.”

I slide my glass across the table to him. “Try it.”

His mouth twists. “No. It’s disgusting.”

“How would you know?”

“Because I just do.”

“Try it. Just one little sip,” I coax. “Please?”

He grumbles something under his breath but leans forward on his elbows and takes my straw into his mouth. His lips wrap around it, and something about him using my straw instead of taking a sip out of the side of the cup or using his own feels oddly…intimate. It feels like something a couple would do.

He takes the smallest sip, barely getting even a few drops, before he shakes his head in disgust and pushes it back across the table to me. “I was right. Chemicals.”

“Whatever,” I laugh. “I doubt you even could taste it off that pathetic sip.”

“I could taste enough,” he argues.

I look around the diner. This is one of those hidden gem type places that only regulars know about. “How’d you find this place?”

“We used to come here after tournaments when I was younger,” he says, a growing look of nostalgia taking over his face. “If we won, we’d get cheese fries and a chocolate shake.”

“And if you lost?”

“Then just a chocolate shake,” he grins.

“That sounds like a good consolation prize to me.”

He nods and leans back in the booth. His arm stretches over the top, and he looks completely at ease here. “Where did you grow up?”

“In Prairie Fields, a little under an hour north of Haulton.”

He hums in recognition. “I know where that is. Did you always want to stay close for college then?”

“No.” I twirl my glass around on the chipped tabletop. “I always thought I’d go out East, or maybe just somewhere else in the Midwest. But when my dad had his car accident, the idea of leaving and being a plane ride away didn’t sound appealing anymore.” Neither of my parents asked me to stay. They never would’ve done that. If anything, they encouraged me to still do campus visits to the universities I grew up admiring. “When Haulton offered me a full ride, I couldn’t turn it down.”

“Are you close with your parents? I haven’t noticed them at any games.”

“It’s hard for my dad to be in the car for more than a quick drive with his back pain, and then adding on sitting in a cold rink on metal bleachers?” I shake my head. “It’s too much on him. He tried his best my freshman year, but I saw the strain it put on him. Coach Maver sends them the footage after each game so they can watch it back. But yes, I’m close with them. I’m their only child.”

“So you’re spoiled.”

I throw my balled-up straw wrapper at him. “Shut up.”

He laughs, and each time I pull that sound out of him, a little burst of pride bubbles in my chest because laughing is not something Luke does freely. Even as he tends to smile a bit more these days, they’re still rare.

Our food arrives and he was right, the burgers are incredible. It’s dripping with butter and grease, making a mess out of both our plates and hands. Once we finish eating, Luke grabs the check and pays at the front counter. I don’t try to fight him on it. I’ll gladly take a free meal from a millionaire, retired NHL player as a struggling college student myself.

We then walk across the street to a dive bar that Luke hypes up, and the moment we walk in, I realize dive is a generous term for this place. Heads turn in our direction, the regulars eyeing up the newcomers, and I fall a half-step behind Luke. If anyone recognizes him, no one says anything.

My shoes stick to the floor, and in the dim lighting, it’s still easy to tell that they haven’t been mopped maybe ever. The sole TV hanging over the bar shows footage of Times Square and the countdown to the new year. Two older guys play pool at the beat-up table on one side, while the other end of the bar has a dartboard that looks like it’s hanging on by a thread. Classic rock music plays just loud enough to drown out the few conversations happening, giving a sense of privacy to the groups gathered.

Luke ushers me over to the bar where he orders without asking me. The bartender doesn’t ask for my ID, and I shoot Luke a curious look. Maybe he’s a regular here so they don’t ask him questions.

But when I watch the guy pour two sodas with the fountain gun, I realize that’s why. “We’re not drinking?”

Luke shakes his head.

“It’s New Year’s Eve. Isn’t that something to celebrate?”

“Drinking around you feels like it’d be crossing another line.”

But almost getting me off in the locker room didn’t? “You did at the gala,” I point out.

He grabs our sodas and guides me over to the empty dartboard. “That was different.”

“How so?”

He ignores me and grabs a few darts out of the empty paint can on the high-top table after setting our drinks down. I grab one and take a sip, only to realize it’s regular and switch it for the other.

“Do you know how to play?” he asks, gesturing toward the board.

“Sort of.”

He gives me a quick refresher, and we play a few practice rounds for me to get the hang of it. Once I do, he jots 64 and 32 on the chalkboard next to the board to keep our score.

“That’s how I have you in my phone, you know,” I tell him, pointing to his jersey number.

“Me too. It’s better that way.”

We start our first game, and in three consecutive turns, Luke hits a bullseye each time. He doesn’t gloat, but a smug smile tips his lips when he hits a fourth one, and he’s down to only nine points to knock off.

“Why are you so good at this?” I grumble as he marks his score.

He adjusts the sleeves of his jacket nonchalantly. “I’m good at everything.”

I snort. “Whatever.” With my next turn, I knock off thirty-four points but am still only down to seventy-nine. I collect the darts and hand them back over to Luke. “So I know why I didn’t have any plans tonight, but why didn’t you?”

Luke takes a shot and busts. He curses softly before retrieving it from the board. “I don’t know. I’m kind of old to be celebrating New Year’s.”

“Is there an age limit on having fun?” I tease.

“Yep. You’ll hit it soon enough.”

“Seriously,” I say, leaning back against the high top. “Why didn’t you have plans?”

He takes a swig of his soda but looks like he wishes it was something stronger. “I don’t have many friends here. Most everyone I know is still in New York, and it’s not like I’m married anymore and have obligations to go where she would want to.”

That’s the second time he’s mentioned being married before. I eye him curiously, and he reads exactly where my mind is going.

“It’s not some sordid tale.” He perches on a barstool, bringing us eye level. “We were high school sweethearts. She stuck by me through everything and never complained about being second to my love of hockey.”

“So what happened?” I ask carefully.

He sighs heavily and cracks his neck. “I was always so wrapped up in hockey, and she made sure everything else in our life ran smoothly. But when I kept putting off starting a family, I could tell she was growing restless. So when she decided to go back to school to get her marketing degree, I fully supported it. I wanted her to have something she enjoyed doing while I was away doing what I loved.”

“But then I got hurt, and she told me she was going to drop out of her classes so she could help me full time through my recovery. Selfless,” he muses. “The most selfless woman I’ve ever met besides my mom. She was willing to do anything for me, even if that meant giving up something important to her. And I realized that not only was I never going to be the same player I once was, but that I also was never willing in the many years we were together, to do the same thing for her. She spent our entire relationship putting me first, and never once did I do that for her.”

Luke looks down at his feet in shame.

“So after she told me she was going to drop out, I asked for a divorce. I couldn’t let her do it. I couldn’t continue to drain her.”

“Did she see it coming?” I ask.

“No. Not at all. It blindsided her.” He grits his teeth. “I’ll never forget the look on her face.”

“Did you try going to counseling?”

He shakes his head. “She wanted to. I didn’t. It’s like after the incident, I got clarity that I never knew I was searching for. We worked well together, but there was something always…missing I guess, between us. And when I had hockey to focus on, it glossed over those cracks. Without it in my life, I just couldn’t ignore that I didn’t want the future with her that I should.”

I’m not sure what to say, but Luke seems content to sit in silence for a moment.

“We’re on better terms,” he finally says. “I mean, we don’t keep in contact, but I know she’s remarried and sounds like she’s doing well.”

I like the way he speaks about her with nothing but clear respect in his tone. “You clearly loved her very much. To be selfless like that to let her go.” I’ve never been in love before, but I can imagine how hard that must’ve been for him when he realized that love wasn’t enough of a reason to keep them together.

“I did love her, but I’ll always regret wasting so many years of her life when I knew deep down I’d never be able to give her what she wanted.”

“A family?”

“A priority.” He scratches the back of his neck. “I mean, now that I’m officially retired and know there’s no going back to the sport again for me, maybe it could’ve changed things. But I needed time to process it on my own. It still feels like I’m processing it sometimes. It wouldn’t have been fair to either of us to drag things along when it wasn’t right.”

“That makes sense.” I take a sip of my drinks and twirl a dart around in my fingers. What a serious turn this night has taken.

Sensing the same thing, Luke nods toward my hands. “That’s enough of that right now. Less talking, more playing.”

“Fair enough.” We reset for another game and each time we change turns, some part of him always brushes against me. His knuckles against the back of my hand, his chest against my back, his shoulder against mine. Each point of contact burns a little brighter than the last, setting me further on edge.

Luke kicks my ass for the third time in a row.

“You can’t let me win just once?” I groan and slap the darts onto the table.

Luke clicks his tongue at me. “Never. You gotta earn your wins.”

“I don’t think I like this game very much.”

“You would if you were winning.”

I flip him off as he scoops up the darts and erases the chalkboard for another game.

As time ticks down, I wonder what’s going to happen when we ring in the new year. Is he going to kiss me? Should I kiss him? I can still feel everywhere he touched me the other night, but he never kissed me. Was it on purpose, or was he so caught up in the moment that he didn’t notice?

Luke checks his stupidly-expensive watch. “Wanna get out of here? It’s getting late.”

“Don’t you want to stick around to ring in the new year, old man?”

“Eh, I’ve seen enough new years in my time.” He holds his back playfully, pretending to be in pain.

I give him a little shove but finish the rest of my drink. “Let’s go.”

He holds my coat open for me, slipping it onto my shoulders. When we head toward the exit, I feel his hand hovering lightly on my lower back, and I want to lean into the touch more than I want my next breath.

I don’t know what possesses me to do it, but when we step out onto the empty sidewalk and Luke starts heading back toward his car parked across the street, I grab his arm. It takes him by surprise as I pull us both into an alleyway between the bar and the barbershop next door.

He looks at me with a silent question on his face, but I don’t have an answer for him. All I know is that I don’t want this to be done yet. And I fear the moment we get back into his car, he’s going to remember all the rules and reasons why we shouldn’t even be here in the first place, and I don’t want to go there right now. I want to stay right here, in this moment, where it’s just the two of us away from the titles that separate us.

Snow falls soundlessly, and a few flakes catch on his hair, his jacket, his eyelashes. He looks beautiful cast in the muted glow of the night sky. It softens his features, and he looks younger, lighter.

“Thank you for bringing me out tonight,” I say. “I had fun with you.”

He swallows thickly. “I had fun with you, too.”

Silence stretches between, becoming as taut as a bowstring, as each of us refuses to look away from the other. He steps forward until my back is pressed against the brick wall. His body cages me in, but I feel anything but trapped.

My heart races as pure want pumps through my veins as I look at the curve of his lips and imagine them on my own.

“Are you done fighting this?” My question sounds as breathless as I feel.

His chest shakes against mine, fighting to find that last bit of restraint, but I see the surrender in his eyes before he says, “Yes.”

With that single word, his mouth captures mine for the first time.

Fucking finally .

He’s not gentle, he’s not careful, and he surely has thrown all hesitation out the window as he absolutely devours me. He tastes like cinnamon and Coke as his tongue tangles with mine. I moan against him as I sag between the wall and his body. He pins me with his hips to keep me from falling.

I cling to his jacket as I kiss him back with everything I have. He’s wholly consuming and dominating, exactly how he is when he’s on the ice. It sings to me, and I nip at his bottom lip.

He pulls back, both of us completely breathless, and puffs of smoke fill the air between us. I open my mouth to demand more, but he silences me with a finger on my lips.

“Don’t say anything. Just get in the fucking car, right now.”