Page 1 of Your Love (Merrimack Mavericks Hockey #3)
Chapter 1
"One Thing"
Kerri - Age 24, 1994
H ow did I arrive at this point? The question repeats in my mind as I hide behind a grove of Loulu palm trees. Between the sweltering tropical heat in this beautiful island resort and the stress of knowing I’ve made the biggest mistake of my life, the sweat is dripping into every crevice of my body. My hair is indescribable. My underboobs are a swamp, and my once pretty, pale yellow sundress is glued to my body like a second skin. Basically, I’m sweatin’ like an Alabama governor in church.
I’m the definition of a mess—a disheveled heap of emotions and poor decisions. But I’m determined to move past the denial that has kept me rooted in place for the past several years.
I realize I’m grasping at a tiny straw in the giant hay bale of my unfortunate love life. I may be delusional, but I’m not stupid. This is a long shot, but part of me can’t help but hope that maybe, just maybe, this will be the turning point in our story—one with more twists and turns than a rollercoaster.
Landry stands on the sandy shore, about fifty yards from where I’m crouched in my lovelorn stalker’s position. His giant figure is framed by the crashing waves and the endless blue sky. My heart aches at the sight of him, looking effortlessly perfect in beige shorts and a billowy white linen shirt that dances with each gentle gust of wind. His bare feet sink into the sand as he gazes at the woman before him, seemingly lost in her presence. Every move he makes is relaxed and calm, a complete juxtaposition to the storm brewing inside of me.
I’m not sure what I’m waiting for. I’ve come this far after jumping on a plane and turning up on this island paradise to speak with him before he marries another woman. I need to follow through with the promise I made to myself—to tell him how I feel, resolutely and finally.
Yet I’m stuck in place, unable to force myself to move from my hiding place. These cheap, beige sandals are glued to the ground, no matter how hard I try to take a step forward. My gaze remains fixated on the trio in front of me—Landry, his glowing bride-to-be, and a man I assume is the wedding officiant.
The man clutches a thick book in one hand as he begins to speak. Landry reaches out and takes her hands in his own, gazing into her eyes, a gentle smile gracing his lips.
No, no, no. This is all wrong. This isn’t the way it’s supposed to be. I’ve always been skeptical of love stories, dismissing them as unrealistic fantasies, especially after everything I’ve been through in the past. Until I witnessed firsthand what happens when two people make a vow to love each other through anything life may throw at them. Real, faithful love is transformative, healing even the deepest wounds. I’ve seen it with my best friends Ivy and Sascha, and I felt it for a moment with the man who stands close enough to hear the deep timber of his laugh float down the beach.
Landry and I had that love. We still have it, hidden deep under unresolved anger and disappointment. I believe it down to the smallest corners of my soul. It’s always been there, yet we’ve never entirely known how to handle it.
That’s not exactly true. I didn’t know how to handle it, using the excuse that the stars have never quite aligned—timing, circumstances, and fear have continuously kept me from accepting what was right in front of me.
But today, as the sun begins to set in a blaze of fiery oranges and pinks, everything feels different. It’s now or never, and I refuse to live my life with the regret of the unknown hanging over me, casting a dark shadow across my hopeful heart.
Without hesitation, I burst through the protective barrier of trees and sprint toward them. The name “Landry” escapes from my lips in a breathless scream as I taste the salty tears streaming down my cheeks. Adrenaline courses through my veins, pushing me closer.
“Landry, wait,” I yell. The trio turns toward the sound of my voice, and as I approach, I can see the look of bewilderment written across their collective faces.
I close the distance with tears streaming down my cheeks and a disheveled appearance that looks like I ran a marathon.
“Landry,” I say, my voice trembling. “I’m so sorry.”
“What are you doing here, Kerri?” he asks as Lauren, his fiancée, drops her hands from his and takes a step away. “Is everything okay at home?”
“Everything is fine,” I assure him. My fingers twist and turn, my knuckles white. My voice wavers as I glance at him with desperation-filled eyes. “This is the worst timing, but I have to talk to you.”
The joyful atmosphere of the ceremony is instantly shrouded in a dark, somber mood. It’s as if an ominous cloud had suddenly blotted out the sun, casting a shadow over us. I’m aware that I am that very cloud.
“Kerri, I’m in the middle of getting married,” Landry says in disbelief.
“I know, and it’s terrible that I waited until now to tell you. I’m so sorry.” I wonder briefly if I look like the lost soul I embody—a person torn between doing something I don’t want to do and yet must do. “This can’t wait any longer,” I say, shaking my head to push away the doubt.
Landry takes a deep breath, and for a moment, I’m not sure if he’s even going to allow me to say what I came here for, but then I see a flicker of warmth in his eyes.
The officiant is trying desperately not to look at the trainwreck before him. He scans the sky and the beach—anywhere but the scene unfolding two feet away from where he stands.
Landry gazes at Lauren, who stands by his side with her brow furrowed in concern and anger—her eyes shooting daggers at me. She hates me. I don’t blame her. The atmosphere is thick with tension and uncertainty. None of us know what to do next.
“Landry, please listen,” I say, breaking the silence.
He nods. “Okay, fine. But whatever you need to say, Lauren can hear it, too.”
I didn’t think any of this would go perfectly, but I definitely didn’t picture having to make my declaration of love in front of an audience of three. I swallow, hesitant and timid. “But, it’s more of a private conversation.”
Landry releases a deep sigh, attempting to keep his irritation from showing to no avail. “Well, this was a private event before you stormed the beach,” he reminds me pointedly. “This is the best you’ll get.”
He’s got me there.
My breath catches in my throat as I struggle to compose myself, but only sobs manage to escape. I can’t find my words. “Landry, please,” I plead, but get no further. I clutch at my heart, fingers digging into the fabric of my dress as if trying to keep it from bursting through my chest. I can’t do this to him for the same reason I showed up here in the first place—because I love him. I love him too much to go through with it.
Landry meets my gaze with a look of pain mixed with pity as my tears mix with smears of mascara and trails of snot.
Lauren steps toward me, and he quickly moves to stand between us, ever the peacekeeper, even in this moment of torture.
“Kerri, please listen to me,” he says. “I understand this is difficult for you, but you shouldn’t have come here. Whatever you thought would happen, it’s not going to.” The words come out harsh and biting, shattering the tense silence.
The intensity of his words rip through my chest like a sharp knife, excising any trace amounts of hope that remained. I stand rooted in place—my shoulders slumped in defeat. I open my mouth to protest, but before I can speak, he cuts me off. “You need to go home,” he says firmly.
I will myself to take a retreating step. My movements are slow and deliberate, and I know I’m trying to hold onto the last moments of something special slipping away. His eyes meet mine, and I see the pain and sorrow etched in their depths. Landry is the kindest, most loving man I’ve ever known. He doesn’t want to hurt me, but I’ve left him no choice.
“I’m so sorry,” I mumble, my voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t mean—I had to try—I shouldn’t have—“ My words are rushed and jumbled, and I continue to back away.
“Are you going to be okay?” Landry calls after me.
“I’m sorry, Landry. I’m sorry, Lauren. I’ll leave. I’ll go,” I say.
“Wait,” Landry’s voice echoes across the sandy beach, but my feet are already propelling me away. My cheap sandal snaps with a loud crack, sending me tumbling into the damp grains of sand. A jolt of pain throbs in my knee, but I don’t allow myself to dwell on it. It pales in comparison to the pain in my chest anyway, so I force myself to get up and keep moving. The crashing waves and cawing seagulls provide a soundtrack to my frantic escape, but all I can hear is the thudding of my heart.
Once I’ve arrived at a safe distance from the scene of the worst moment of my life, I plop down into the wet sand. The roaring of the vast ocean drowns out the sounds of my cries, making me feel smaller than I thought possible. The waves come in rhythmic succession, lapping against my skin.
In between each ripple of water, the blood pools from the fresh tear across my knee. I watch as the water rolls in, cleans it off, and sweeps it away. I wish it could do the same to the pain in my chest, but I know all I can do is wait. Mama says, “Time heals all wounds,” but there aren’t enough minutes in a lifetime to heal this one.
Why did I wait so long to embrace my feelings? Why did my heart betray me and only awaken for this man now? I’ve lost not only my best friend but the man who I thought would one day be my husband. And with this stunt, there’s no chance he’ll want to work at the farm anymore. I’ve put my grandparents’ future in jeopardy with my selfishness.
I lose track of time as I sit on the beach, my tears mingling with the salty ocean breeze. My body shivers from the cold sweat that’s dried on my skin. My muscles ache and protest any movement, a physical representation of the pain inside of me.
As I finally rise, my knee immediately starts to ache. In addition to everything else, it dawns on me that I may have seriously injured myself. As I gingerly put weight on my knee, a sharp pain radiates from the medial side of my kneecap, indicating a possible strain of a ligament. That’s my professional assessment, coming from an almost-veterinarian. It’ll be another year or so before it’s official. My non-professional assessment is that I’m a complete loser who fucked up her knee with uncoordinated beach acrobatics.
Sniffling and limping along the beach back to the resort hotel that I can’t afford, my steps falter as a thought occurs to me—Landry and Lauren are spending their wedding night at this very same hotel. It hits me like a physical blow, adding insult to literal injury.
My credit card was pushed to its limit as I hastily booked a flight and a luxurious night at this exclusive resort, the most expensive in the entire area. My only goal was to reach this place and speak with Landry. The hours on the flight were spent thinking over what I would say and daydreaming about him returning my feelings. I wasn’t thinking about what would happen in this situation. Now, that’s all I can think about as I hobble into the grand lobby and approach the front desk.
At some point in the debacle that is my life over the past several hours, I managed to misplace my room key, whether on the sandy shores or in the crashing waves of the ocean. I’m sure they’ll add that charge to my bill. I might as well throw in some cliché sad movies, indulgent room service, and a pitcher of margaritas to drown out the misery while I’m at it.
The front desk worker is an older man with kind eyes. As I approach him, sand still clinging to my legs and hair wild from the salty breeze, he regards me with a mix of amusement and concern. It’s clear that I look like some crazy person who just wandered off the beach. Seeing as how I am, it’s an accurate assessment.
“Can I be of assistance, Miss?” he asks in a charming accent.
“I seem to have misplaced my room key. My name is Kerri Thatcher, and I’m staying in room 342.”
He responds with more empathy than I deserve. He reaches for a new key and places it carefully in my hand, giving me a gentle smile. “Pardon me,” he says softly, “but whatever is going on can only get better from here.”
His words trigger another bout of crying. I don’t deserve any kind words. After all, I’m the one who hurt Landry and ruined his wedding day. And even though I have no love or trust for his new wife, my actions still ended up ruining her special day as well.
Although I don’t believe I’m worthy of them, I’m grateful for his words of consideration. I reach out and cover his hand with mine. “Thank you,” I say sincerely before taking my key and limping my way to my room.