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CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Ally

The three of us step out of my office, fully dressed, though my cheeks still burn with the heat of what just happened.

The rink is eerily quiet now as we make our way down the hallway. It’s long past closing time, and the lack of sound due to the power outage makes the building feel unnatural in its stillness.

Nick and Tyler walk on either side of me, their energy unmistakably smug. Nick’s bandaged hand rests casually in his jacket pocket, while Tyler’s grin hasn’t faded since we left the office.

“Well,” Tyler says, his voice low and teasing as we reach the parking lot doors. “That was…educational.”

Nick chuckles, pulling out his phone. “Let’s exchange numbers, Doc. Just in case we need to plan another…session.”

I roll my eyes, though a small smile tugs at my lips as I type my number into his phone. Tyler hands me his next, his smirk only growing as he leans in slightly. “Don’t forget me.”

With numbers exchanged and a few more smart-ass comments passed around, we step outside into the brisk night air. I shiver slightly, the cold biting against my flushed skin as I head to my car.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, I glance in the rearview mirror and see the twins climbing into their own car. Tyler gives a quick beep of the horn as they pull out, and I wave absently, my heart still racing.

As their taillights disappear into the distance, the exhilaration of the evening begins to fade, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

The rush of adrenaline is still there, but now it’s accompanied by a pang of guilt that settles uncomfortably in my chest.

What am I doing?

The question echoes in my mind as I replay the events of the past couple of days. First Brooks, now Nick and Tyler.

The memory of Brooks comes unbidden, the way he looked at me, the tenderness in his touch. With him, it was emotional, almost reverent, like he was giving me a piece of himself with every kiss, every movement.

But the twins? That was something entirely different.

It was raw, untamed, powerful.

They didn’t just make me feel wanted, they made me feel alive in a way I’d never experienced before.

There was no hesitation, no holding back. It was primal, and it unlocked something inside me I didn’t even know was there.

I bite my lip, the conflicting emotions swirling in my chest. Guilt and exhilaration. Regret and fulfillment. They’re all tangled together, impossible to separate.

As I sit there in the quiet of my car, I let myself breathe.

Maybe this isn’t a bad thing, I think, the thought breaking through the haze of guilt. For so long, I’d been the good girl, the one who always did what was expected, who never colored outside the lines.

But now? Now, I’m discovering things about myself that I never gave myself permission to explore.

Brooks has shown me intimacy, the depth of connection that sex could bring.

The twins? They taught me something entirely different—how to embrace my power, my desires.

It’s like I’ve been unlocking pieces of myself, piece by piece, after years of holding them under lock and key.

I glance at my reflection in the rearview mirror. My cheeks are flushed, my lips slightly swollen, and my eyes, my eyes look brighter, alive.

This is what I was missing when I saved myself for so long, waiting for…for what, exactly? Some mythical perfect moment, with a perfect man, in a perfect life that doesn’t even exist?

I let out a soft laugh, shaking my head. Maybe it’s not about being perfect. Maybe it’s about letting myself feel, letting myself be fulfilled.

As I start the car and pull out of the parking lot, my phone buzzes on the passenger seat. At the next red light, I glance down to see two new messages, the first from Tyler.

You were amazing tonight. Can’t wait for next time.

The second from Nick.

Doc. That was incredible. Let’s make this a regular thing.

I can’t help but smile, the words sending a warm rush through me. They don’t know. They don’t know I’m so new to all of this.

And yet…they think I’m good at it.

More than good.

Great, even.

Multiple men have now said I’m good at sex, me, the girl who used to blush at the word “sex”.

It’s a strange, heady feeling, one that makes me sit up a little straighter in my seat.

But as I drive through the quiet streets, my mind drifts back to Brooks.

I think about his touch, the way he made me feel like I was the center of his world. How will that compare now that I’ve experienced something else entirely?

After the wildness of tonight, will I feel different about sex with Brooks?

I shake my head, trying to push the thought away. For now, I just let myself revel in the fact that I’ve taken these steps. They’re steps toward being the woman I’ve always wanted to be.

The red light stretches on endlessly, the glow of the traffic signal bathing the inside of my car in a dull red hue. I lean back in my seat, drumming my fingers against the steering wheel, my mind still racing from the events of the evening.

The familiar ringtone cuts through the quiet, and I glance at my phone lighting up on the passenger seat with a call. Dad.

I hesitate for a split second before picking up. “Hi, Dad,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says warmly. “Guess what? I made lasagna, your favorite. Why don’t you come over for dinner?”

The mention of lasagna makes my stomach flip, and not just because it’s my favorite. Seeing my dad right now, after what just happened with Nick and Tyler…it feels surreal.

But guilt tugs at me. I haven’t visited him in weeks, and he doesn’t deserve to be put off.

“That sounds great,” I reply, forcing a smile into my voice. “I’ll head over now.”

“Good,” he says, his tone filled with joy. “Drive safe. I’ll keep it warm for you.”

All right, Ally. You’ve got this.

The drive to my dad’s house is familiar yet nostalgic, the streets quieter now as the night settles in. Passing by landmarks from my childhood, a faded playground, the corner deli that used to sell my favorite bubblegum, I can’t help but feel a pang of bittersweet longing.

When I turn onto my dad’s street, his house comes into view, bathed in the glow of the porch light. It’s a modest, two-story home with white siding and green shutters, the kind of place that feels cozy no matter the season.

The garden beds lining the walkway are still perfectly maintained, a burst of late-season flowers adding color against the neatly trimmed lawn.

I park at the curb and sit there for a moment, my fingers fiddling with the ends of my scarf. He’s not going to know, I tell myself firmly. There’s no way he could know.

I flip down the sun visor and check my reflection in the mirror. My cheeks are still flushed, and there’s a smudge of mascara under one eye. I smooth my hair, patting it into place, and dab at the makeup with my thumb until I look presentable again.

“All right,” I whisper, taking a deep breath. “Time to face the music.”

The doorbell chime echoes softly through the night, and moments later, the door swings open to reveal my dad. His face lights up the way it always does when he sees me, his smile wide and warm.

“Ally!” he exclaims, pulling me into a bear hug. His arms wrap tightly around me, and I relax against him, feeling a wave of comfort wash over me.

“Hi, Dad,” I say, smiling as he guides me inside.

The house smells exactly as I remember, cinnamon from the ever-present candle on the living room coffee table, mingling with the rich, cheesy aroma of lasagna baking in the oven.

Stepping into the foyer, I’m hit with a blast of nostalgia.

The familiar beige walls are still lined with framed photos from my childhood, school pictures, family holidays, and even a few embarrassing hockey photos. The carpet under my feet is the same soft gray that muffled my footsteps as a kid sneaking down for midnight snacks.

“Come on, sit down,” Dad says, gesturing toward the dining table.

I glance into the kitchen, where the oven light glows warmly, casting a soft golden hue over the countertops. “Do you need help with anything?”

“Absolutely not,” he replies, mock-serious. “You’re the guest tonight.”

I laugh, shaking my head as I take a seat at the familiar oak table. The grooves and scratches on its surface bring back a flood of memories, family dinners, homework sessions, and countless games of cards.

“So,” Dad says, setting a heaping plate of lasagna in front of me. “How’s the fellowship going?”

As we eat, Dad leans back in his chair, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “So, what’s it like working with a bunch of hockey players? I bet that gets old fast.”

I pause, my fork hovering over my plate. “It’s fine,” I say lightly, keeping my tone as neutral as possible.

He chuckles, shaking his head. “I can’t imagine it’s easy. You let me know if any of those guys try to get fresh with you, all right? I’ll take care of them.”

“Dad,” I groan, rolling my eyes, though my stomach churns slightly at the thought.

“I’m serious,” he says, pointing his fork at me like he’s making a proclamation. “I don’t care how big they are. They mess with my little girl, and they’re done for.”

I force a laugh, but guilt seeps into my chest. If only he knew. Not one, not two, but three hockey players already…

“I can handle myself,” I say, taking a bite of lasagna to distract myself.

He nods, his expression softening. “I know you can, sweetheart. Your mom always said you had a good head on your shoulders.”

The mention of Mom sends a pang through me, but I manage a small smile. “Thanks, Dad.”

He changes the subject, asking about my coworkers, and I breathe a little easier. For now, my secret is safe and I can enjoy the warmth of home.

The night winds down with the familiar comfort of lingering at the table, chatting about nothing and everything. The lasagna is long gone, the plates cleared, but Dad keeps me talking, his laughter filling the cozy dining room.

Eventually, I glance at the clock and sigh. “I should probably get going. It’s getting late, and I’ve got another busy day tomorrow.”

Dad nods, standing up and walking me to the door. His steps are a little slower than I remember, but his energy is still as warm and reassuring as ever.

As I slip on my coat, he pulls me into a hug, wrapping his arms tightly around me. “You take care of yourself, okay?” he says softly.

“I will,” I reply, my cheek pressed against his shoulder.

He pulls back slightly, looking at me with that familiar mix of pride and affection. “Your mom would be so proud of you, you know. She always knew you’d do great things.”

His words hit me straight in the chest, and I blink rapidly, fighting back the sudden sting of tears. “Thanks, Dad,” I manage, my voice thick with emotion.

He hugs me one more time before opening the door. The cold air rushes in, and I step outside, turning back to wave. He stands in the doorway, watching until I’m halfway to my car, before finally closing the door.

The drive home is quiet. My dad’s words replay in my mind, warming me just as much as the lingering scent of lasagna clinging to my coat.

He’d said I seemed happy. It surprised me at first, but as I think about it, I realize he’s right. Despite everything, the whirlwind of emotions, the questionable decisions, I do feel…lighter.

Freer.

The city lights blur past my window, casting soft shadows across the dashboard.

My thoughts drift to the house I just left, the comforting presence of my dad.

I think about how much he’s done for me and how hard he worked to keep things together after Mom died.

I was too young then to fully appreciate it, but now, I can see the sacrifices he made, and the love he poured into making sure I had a good life.

As I pull into the driveway of my apartment, I sit for a moment, letting the quiet settle around me.

I feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude, for him, for the life he built for us, for the way he always makes me feel like I can handle anything.

“I love you, Dad,” I whisper to myself, smiling as I grab my things and head inside.