Page 3

CHAPTER 3

Taco Tuesday (on a Thursday)

LUCY

Thursday, September 12

“ S o you’re fully a dog person now, huh?” My brother leans against the frame to his apartment door, his too-long red curls twisting on his forehead as he casually watches me struggle to control this wiggly dog.

“No. Zeus!” I’m reconsidering the name—maybe he can wield a thunderbolt of destruction—and clip the leash onto his collar. “Ha! Got you.”

Zeus twists around and licks my hand aggressively.

“Who are you and what have you done with my sister?” Atticus shakes his head and half-chuckles. “I thought it was a joke when you told me you were showing up with that dog. I thought you hated him.”

“Gross.” I stand and wipe the back of my hand on my jeans. “I hate what this dog stands for. Not the dog.”

Ron’s impulsivity and untrustworthiness. But that impulsivity made my ex so much fun. He’d do things like drag me around D.C. on a hunt for the best Chinese food, or the best bagel, or the quirkiest coffee shop. He was passionate about everything—soccer and his home state of New York and his parents, who were lovely. Are still lovely, I suppose.

But no matter how much he claimed to have loved me, it wasn’t enough.

And he got promoted after we’d been dating for six months. Coincidence?

Had he ever loved me, or was he just using me to get ahead?

After it was over, I still had to face him every day at work. I didn’t last long.

“What happened to, what was his name before, Elmo? Edgar?” Atticus nods his chin at Zeus.

“Oscar, Atticus, it was Oscar. And neither of us liked that name.” As soon as I brought Zeus home from Ron’s apartment, I renamed him. Oscar wasn’t a great name, but it was better than Max.

Atticus smirks and holds the front door to his luxury townhouse open for me, locking it after I emerge into the sunny day.

The sky is seamlessly blue, the temperature a perfect seventy degrees, and the leaves are starting to change along the tree-lined sidewalk of my brother’s street a few blocks from downtown Fort Collins.

“Is it always like this here?” I breathe deeply. It’s hard not to like this place when it insists on being so gorgeous every single day.

“Sunny and beautiful? Yes. I’ve been telling you to come visit since I got transferred. Fort Collins is perfect.”

One of the upsides of coming here was the chance to hang out with my brother. It’s been a decade since we spent more than a holiday at Mom’s together or talked on a few scattered phone calls a year.

“Mmmm.” We’ll see if it’s perfect. Sunny, beautiful, majestic mountains in the distance. Crisp, cool fall air in the morning, warming to delightful late summer weather by the afternoon. Never humid.

Okay, it’s definitely better than D.C.

For so many reasons, I’m happy to be here.

For now.

“And it’s the ideal town for a dog lover like you.”

“I am not,” I scoff as we turn onto the busy main street.

Atticus gestures to the large bowl of water in front of an antique shop just ahead. “Everyone brings their dogs everywhere.”

Zeus strains against the leash and dunks his entire head into the water bowl, then shakes aggressively, splattering water on my jeans. A few droplets make it all the way up to my face.

“Hey! Come on!” Zeus runs ahead, causing me to almost trip on the leash and fall on my face.

“There are even dog parades.” Atticus calls ahead as I struggle with Zeus.

“Dog parades?” Once I get my balance, I wipe my cheek with a sleeve.

“Over the summer, I witnessed an enormous parade of corgis.”

“That sounds ridiculous.” Zeus weaves in and out of my legs, threatening to trip me again. “I will never be part of a dog parade.”

“There were flags and everything. It was wild.”

“Jesus. Heel, Zeus!” Zeus barks, stops, and rolls onto his back. I sigh and tug on his leash until he gets up. “Anyway, it’s temporary.”

“What’s temporary? The dog?”

“Yes. All of this. The dog, me living with you, this job.”

“If you say so.”

I can feel Atticus staring at my profile, but I ignore him and face straight ahead.

We walk past a few closed businesses. Thai food, Italian, a swanky-looking bar called Black Diamond.

“Right here.” Atticus gestures toward a storefront—Deep Roots Cafe. I duck inside ahead of him.

“Ohhh, this place is so perfect!” It’s an adorable little coffee shop with a chalkboard list of drinks, a case containing baked goods, and sturdy wooden tables throughout. It smells amazing, like warm muffins and crumb cake. There’s a doorway to a cozy-looking bookstore with a sign announcing A Good Book above the wide open internal double doors. A cute guy with a beard and wavy dark hair smiles at me from behind the bookstore counter. I look away.

I have no desire to date any guy, or even flirt. Because I’m not sure I’ll ever be enough for someone, even if it seems like I am. I can’t trust that feeling.

“And what, exactly, do you intend on doing with this dog when you move to England?” Atticus waves me to follow him.

“I don’t have the job yet. I’ll figure out what to do with Zeus after I pass the phone interview, the video interview, and the in-person interview.” I stop behind my brother in the line for coffee.

“That’s a whole lot of interviews.”

“You have no idea how normal people jobs work.” I huff. “You’re a professional hockey player. And this is my dream job.” We step closer to the register.

“Is it a dream because the work is so good?” Atticus ignores my comments. “Because you love soccer so much? Or because it’s in England, which is almost as far from your life in D.C. as you can get?”

“Oh, shut up.” I push his arm and hope he doesn’t notice I’m not answering his question. “New Zealand would be much further.”

But the answer is all of the above.

The job with Winchester FC would be a promotion from director of marketing at DC FC—a level I’ve been stuck at for years—to senior director of PR and marketing. And there’s potential for growth.

And yeah, it’s far, far away in England.

“You’re not going to answer the question?”

“How about our father is deeply insecure about DC FC being perceived as less prestigious than European soccer teams, so it would be a great way to piss him off?”

“I can always get behind that.” We order our coffees and step aside while the baristas prepare our drinks.

Ever since he was old enough to understand what happened between our parents, Atticus and our father have not gotten along.

Mom left Richard after she found him cheating with a twenty-five-year-old woman. Atticus was one and I was five. It was incredibly painful for her at the time, but I believe our mom has led a much happier life than she would have with our father.

We stayed outside of Washington D.C. after the divorce, spending some weekends with my father. But when I left for college, Atticus refused to even do that.

And as soon as Atticus was out of the house, Mom bought a small vineyard a few hours south into Virginia. She’s got her wine and her friends and a boyfriend on occasion, plus a whole lot of money from the divorce.

She’s never wanted to remarry.

Our father was divorced from wife number two within a year of remarrying.

“So. Interested in adopting a dog?”

“No way, Luce! I really hope that’s not your plan.” Atticus crinkles his nose. “I stepped in dog pee on the carpet the other day. Warm dog pee. Do you know how disgusting that is?”

“Yes, I do.” I’ve done that several times since arriving in Fort Collins a week ago. “But you know all about dog parades, and you could probably bring him to the arena?—”

“That worked out great yesterday.”

“—and you can definitely afford to have someone dog sit while you’re traveling. And look at that cute face.”

We both glance down at Zeus, who’s sitting angelically by my feet, tongue sticking out of his mouth, staring up at me with hearts in his eyes.

“Nope. I will no longer entertain this conversation.”

I shrug. I didn’t really expect Atticus to take Zeus. It was just one possibility to now cross off the list.

We accept our coffees and step through to A Good Book. I linger right inside the doorway at a local authors shelf, touching a romance book called Love on the Slopes. My brother scoffs as he picks up a different romance novel with a girl in the arms of a bull standing on two feet on the cover.

“What in the hell is this?” He looks up.

“Hey, don’t yuck on other people’s yum, dude.”

“I should buy it for Lachlan. He reads all this romance shit.” Atticus shakes his head. “But really, who finds this—” then he stops speaking. I follow his gaze, which is directed back into the cafe.

“What? Who’s there?”

Atticus tugs me by the arm over to the thriller bookshelf tucked against the wall.

“That’s Paul and Savannah Harrison.”

“Ohhh, no way.” I peek around the bookshelf and take in the couple at the front of the line. The man is tall with a full head of gray hair, sharp lines to his face giving subtle villain vibes, but definitely handsome. The woman next to him is at least a foot shorter and pretty in a high maintenance way, wearing expensive black leggings and a lacy tank top with a fitted jacket over top.

“They come in here every morning at about this time,” Atticus murmurs. “I’m assuming it’s every morning, because I’m in here at least twice a week before heading to the arena, and they always seem to show up.”

I observe the couple for a few more seconds. “He looks exactly like someone our father would be friends with.”

“Right? I’m positive there’s an actual Rich White Guy Team Owner club somewhere.”

I snicker, because it’s funny, even though it’s not really.

The only downside to coming to Fort Collins to work for the Blizzard is that our father is friends with Paul Harrison, the team owner. That connection is seriously unfortunate. That and the fact that my brother plays for the Blizzard indicates I’m not really forging a brand-new path here.

“She’s way younger than he is, huh?”

The barista hands them their drinks and Savannah takes a sip, fiddles with her lid, then hands it back to the woman who reaches for a bottle of flavored sweetener.

“Yup.” Atticus gulps from his coffee cup and raises his left eyebrow at me meaningfully. “They live just around the corner from me in a penthouse apartment.”

“Should we run away? Or go say hello?”

But at that moment, Paul turns toward us and meets Atticus’s eyes.

“Fuck,” Atticus says under his breath without moving his lips. The couple walks toward us. We were obviously doing a shit job hiding.

“Good morning, Atticus. Off to the arena soon?” Paul says.

“Yes, of course, Mr. Harrison.” Atticus stands up straighter. “On my way now. Have you met my sister, Lucy? She’s covering a PR maternity leave at the Blizzard.”

Paul turns his gaze to me, and Savannah tentatively smiles and says hello before staring down at her phone.

“Nice to meet you, Lucy. Richard told me to watch out for his daughter.”

Oh my god. I can’t get away from him. The idea of my father asking the Blizzard team owner to keep an eye on me makes my toes curl.

“Nice to meet you. I assure you, I don’t need to be watched.” I throw in a smile. I’m thirty-three years old. I don’t need a chaperone.

“I keep telling him to come out here to see a game in person,” Paul says, not acknowledging the fact that Atticus playing here should be enough reason for Richard to come to Fort Collins. “But I suppose he’s more interested in soccer.”

Atticus’s shoulders tense. Our father has never come out here to see him play. Even though I think I have it bad with Dad trying to control my life, providing me a constant narrative that I can’t survive without his help, Atticus has it worse. Our father barely acknowledges his existence.

“Yes, I think you’re right. Maybe you can finally convince him.” I cock my head and give Paul a big smile.

Atticus lets out a quiet scoff just for me to hear.

“I’ll have to let him know I met you. Welcome to the Blizzard, Lucy.” With a nod at Atticus, Paul leads his wife out the front door of Deep Roots Cafe.

“Dad asked him to watch out for me?” I stare at their departing backs.

“I’m lucky Richard doesn’t give a shit about me, because Paul might have been reporting back for years.” Atticus gently elbows me.

“This is why I have to go to England. I can’t escape.”

Something clicks in my brain. I thought I was getting away from my father by being in Colorado, but really, there’s always going to be someone watching and reporting back.

I can’t fail here.

I can’t prove my father right, that I can’t do things on my own. That I’m not good enough.

Once we’re sure Paul and his wife are gone, I follow Atticus out the bookstore exit to the street and back toward his apartment.

“Hey, you should hang out with the guys at some point.” We’re back at the door to Atticus’s place.

“Socialize with a bunch of hockey players? Pass.”

“These are good guys, Luce, I promise. And we’re normally pretty boring. We mostly sit around and watch a movie and then go to bed early and sober so we can get up and work out again.”

“I have no interest in hockey players.”

“I’m not suggesting you date them.” Atticus rolls his eyes. “Just make some friends or something. I worry that Raleigh and January live so far away. I can’t let you get sad and lonely in Fort Collins.”

“I’ll think about hanging out.” I sigh deeply. “But don’t worry about me. I’m doing fine.”

But am I? Because I thought I’d feel all independent and strong as soon as I put some space between me and D.C., but I kind of don’t feel like it worked. Not yet anyway.

“Basically you won’t be able to avoid them since you live with me.”

Atticus offers his fist and I bump it with mine. I head off to do another lap around the block with Zeus, and Atticus gets in his parked car.

The next street over has a restaurant called Taco Tuesday. Zeus barks at the sign.

“Tacos?”

He looks up at me.

“Taco Tuesday? On a Thursday?” I crack up at my own joke.

Zeus just looks at me.

“Sure, okay. Taco. We’ll give it a shot.”

Taco wags his tail and barks happily. He smiles for the picture that I snap and send to my friends.

Me

Meet Taco.