Page 38 of Lucky Shot (Moonshot Hockey #1)

RUBY

For the next five days I don’t leave the cabin except to walk down by the lake each morning or sit on the porch with my laptop when I feel like I need a change of scenery. I write and delete and rewrite and sometimes want to scream at the screen, but I don’t stop.

Aidan comes by every afternoon. He sits in the living room with his guitar and practices while I edit. I’m going to miss listening to him play when I leave.

Nick stops by in the mornings before he heads to the rink. I’m not always awake, depending on how late I stayed up writing the night before, but I know he’s been here because of the freshly brewed coffee waiting for me.

On Thursday, Olivia calls for the third time in two days.

“Hi!” I answer, stepping out onto the porch and shielding my eyes from the bright sun. The mid-afternoon heat is sticky and the air is thick.

“Hi? Really? That’s all you have to say for yourself?” My sister shrieks on the other end.

“I’m sorry I haven’t checked in sooner.” A smile tugs at my lips as I take a seat on the rocking chair. “The words are finally flowing, and I didn’t want to stop.”

She’s quiet for a beat.

“Liv?”

“I’m here. Sorry I yelled at you.” She’s so bad at being mean it makes me laugh.

“It’s fine. I need someone to remind me the world is still moving around me. Sorry I didn’t answer. How are you? I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

It feels odd to have gone this long without seeing her. We’ve lived with or near each other for our entire lives.

“Is the writing really flowing or were you just saying that to make me feel bad for yelling at you?” she asks with a laugh.

“It’s really flowing. Finally. I wasn’t sure it ever would again.”

“You’re too talented to retire before your thirtieth birthday.”

“Thanks.” I pull my legs up and hug them to my chest. “How’s the bookstore? How’s my niece?”

“Store is good. We have a new summertime reads table featuring our very own Ruby Madison.”

My sister runs a family bookstore, started by my grandparents, and her passion for creating new book displays is up there with her love of her daughter and husband.

“I’m sure it’s gorgeous.”

“And Greer’s good. She’s why I’m calling. Her softball team made it to the championships.”

“Really?”

“Mhmmm.”

“That’s amazing!”

Since I’ve been gone, Olivia’s kept me up to date with pictures and videos and an occasional chaotic voice message from my favorite little girl. She’s done a variety of activities over the years, from dance to tennis to Lego club, but since she started softball, it’s become her obsession.

“I’m so sad I’ve missed all her games this summer.”

“Trust me. There will be plenty more.”

“Still. The championships? That’s…wow.” A pang of longing and homesickness stirs inside me.

“Yeah, she’s really excited. She wanted me to invite you to the game. I know you’re not supposed to be back until the end of the month, but I promised her I’d tell you anyway. She said you would want to know.”

“She is correct. I’m so proud of her. Where’d she get all this athleticism from?”

“Beats me. The game is Saturday evening. Mom is planning to record the entire thing so if you can’t make it, then I’m sure you can catch the replay from her.”

“Tell her I’ll send the team jet to get her if she wants to come,” Flynn yells in the background.

“Is he serious?” I ask, brows lifting at the idea. I mean, is that even a thing?

“Sadly, he is one hundred percent serious. He’s flying so many people in you’d think she was playing in the Little League World Series instead of a local championship game.”

“It’s a big deal!” Flynn shouts, still far away.

“I love that he’s so good to her.”

“Yeah, me too. It’s why I let him knock me up.”

I chuckle.

“Is she in?” he asks. “Is she coming?”

“I’m definitely in,” I say with a laugh.

“Really?” Olivia asks with a hopefulness that confirms it’s the right thing to do.

“Of course. I can’t wait to see you guys.” I am excited to see them but the thought of leaving has an uneasy feeling swirling in my stomach too. God. I’m one big ball of emotions lately.

“Ahh. I’m so excited. Flynn made shirts. Be prepared.”

“Ask her if she wants hers to say Aunt Ruby or The Cool Aunt,” Flynn says in the background.

“Dealer’s choice,” I say. That man truly loves my niece like she were his own.

She relays back what I said to him, and he promises to send me all the details later tonight.

Then Olivia and I spend a few more minutes talking while she fills me in on everything happening back home—from Dad’s new pickleball hobby to Grandma’s knee surgery.

All things I already heard via text but getting the full update is so much better.

My well is full by the time we hang up. I sit on the porch, smiling out at the lake with my chin resting on my knees and the wind blowing through my hair. This might be my favorite place in the entire world, but I miss my family. If I could plop them here it’d be perfect.

I wonder if I can work out an ongoing summer rental agreement with Nick.

Spending a few months here every year to write sounds lovely.

We could continue our fling every summer.

Walks by the lake, boat rides, skating, writing, listening to Aidan play guitar, and hanging out with Nick every possible moment.

I know it isn’t a realistic fantasy, but I indulge in it for a few minutes anyway.

My attention is broken only when I hear the slam of a door. Aidan has his guitar slung over his shoulder and it bounces against his little body as he jogs down the steps and then toward the cabin.

I stand to greet him as he approaches. “Hey.”

He’s carrying a glass container in one hand and stretches it out toward me when he’s close. “From my dad. He said you probably haven’t eaten all day since you’re on deadline.”

I take it but laugh. I guess he forgot that he brought breakfast and coffee by this morning.

“Thanks.”

Inside the cabin, I take the food to the kitchen.

“Did you eat yet?” I ask him as I pry off the lid. The smell of chicken and cheese and some sort of spices or sauces that I can’t place makes my stomach growl and my mouth water.

“Yeah. It’s not bad.” The way he says it has me second-guessing. I could DoorDash tacos for the third time this week.

“He’s been trying new recipes, swapping out foods to make them healthier for Grandpa. He has a bad heart.”

“Your grandpa does?”

Aidan nods.

Nick never mentioned it. Not that he should, but it hits me how little of our lives we’ve shared. Somehow, I still feel like I know him better than just about anyone.

“That’s nice of him,” I say of Nick making special foods for his dad.

“Yeah, I guess so, but it’s not really working.”

“No?”

Aidan’s mouth turns down at the corners, but he still somehow smiles. “Last night I saw Grandpa eat an entire bag of chips and then hide the evidence before Dad got home.”

And that sounds just like Mike.

“Well, some healthy food is probably better than none.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Aidan shrugs one lanky shoulder.

He goes back to strumming the guitar and I take a chance on the food. It’s actually pretty good. Nick Galaxy can cook. Who knew?

After I eat, I get back to work. One of the many things I love about writing is that I can do it anywhere.

Especially when I get stuck. I move from standing at the kitchen, to sitting on the living room floor, to the front porch, back to the kitchen.

I keep hoping that the change of scenery will unlock the missing pieces to finish this book.

I’m about to run a bath and see if soaking in the tub will help when Aidan hits a chord that makes my eyes cross.

He grunts in frustration. “I suck at this shit!”

As soon as the outburst is out of his lips, he looks over at me like he’s expecting me to admonish him.

“Sorry.” Aidan’s face scrunches up in apology as he lets his hand fall away from the strings.

“You don’t need to apologize.” I lean back from my computer screen. “I just deleted an entire page that was almost entirely describing the smell of hockey pads.”

I scrunch up my face in the same way he had, and a laugh erupts out of him. I join in.

“Some days are hard. It makes us appreciate the good ones more.”

He looks unconvinced.

“My mom says that. I have no idea if it’s true,” I admit.

“I’m never going to get this song right.”

“Of course you will. You just need a break. You know what else my mom says?”

He grins in that half-smile way his dad does, showing off the same dimple.

“When all else fails, bake something.”

I move to the fridge to inspect the ingredients on hand. It’s not much, but I can work with it.

I preheat the oven and pull out everything we’re going to need. Aidan hasn’t moved from the couch, but he watches me.

“Are you going to help or what?” I ask him.

He sets his guitar down and gets up, walking slowly to stand on the other side of the counter.

“I don’t know how to bake.”

“It’s easy. Do you have any allergies?”

He shakes his head.

“Okay.” I nod my head toward the sink. “Wash your hands and then I’ll show you how to make one of my favorite cookies.”

He’s hesitant at first, cracking eggs and measuring out the flour, but by the time we’re scooping the dough onto a cookie sheet, Aidan is all smiles.

“What’s your favorite dessert?” I ask him after I set a timer.

“Ice cream,” he says quickly.

“That’s my niece’s favorite too. Chocolate or vanilla?”

“Cookies and cream.”

“Ooh. Good answer. I like that one too. My favorite is butter pecan.”

“My dad likes that one too.”

“Does he?”

Aidan nods. “And peach pie.”

“Really?”

“He tried to make it once.”

“Tried?”

“It looked weird and tasted awful. Even Grandpa wouldn’t touch it.”

Poor Nick.

“Pies can be tricky.”

As I start to clean up our mess, Aidan surprises me by jumping in to help. I load the dishwasher while he puts away everything else. When the timer goes off, we share a smile.

The smell of sugar, butter, and chocolate wafts out when I open the oven. Aidan hangs back, but peers down to watch as I pull the pan out.