Page 7 of Your Love (Merrimack Mavericks Hockey #3)

Chapter 7

"Closing Time"

Kerri - Age 18, 1988

A s we make our way towards Landry’s locker, he turns to me and says, “I think you need to come to a hockey game.”

“Really? I’d like that,” I reply with a smile. “What position do you play?”

“I’m a goalie,” he answers proudly. “It’s the best position on the ice.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I protect the net,” Landry responds confidently. “No one scores a goal unless it gets past me.”

“So, kind of like a safety in football?”

He looks at me incredulously. “It’s nothing like a safety,” he deadpans.

“Geez,” I joke. “It sounds impressive. Do you get to hit a lot of people?”

A mischievous grin spreads across his face.

“We refer to it as ‘checking,’ and I make sure to avoid it whenever I can. It’s not a favorable position for a goalie to be in, being sent to the penalty box.”

Despite only understanding a fraction of what he said, I nod in agreement.

He reaches into his locker, shuffling through various folders until he retrieves a pristine white piece of paper. With a smile, he hands it to me with care. “Paisley is infatuated with flowers,” he begins, “and when I mentioned meeting you, she insisted that I deliver this to you.”

The paper is adorned with a delicate drawing of vibrant blooms. “She is the sweetest thing,” I reply, as my eyes continue to scan over it. It’s good—better than I would expect from a child her age. “I love it! My Nana will happily put this on our refrigerator.”

His eyes light up. “She’ll be stoked to hear that you like it.” He can’t hide the pride in his expression. “We weren’t sure how to spell your name,” he admits.

I shrug, my eyes sparkling with amusement. “I spell it in kind of a strange way, but it’s just a name. I’ll cherish my sweet wildflower picture. And maybe one day Paisley can come to the farm and meet some of our animals?”

Landry’s eyebrows raise in excitement. “She would love that.”

“Then it’s settled. We will have to plan something soon.”

A pleased grin spreads across his face, accentuating the deep dimple on his left cheek.

Energy and anticipation fill the air on Friday night as the band takes the stage for their final performance. Ivy asked me to attend Sascha’s band recital, and I wasn’t going to miss it. Despite initially attempting to seclude myself in a bubble, this group of friends has pulled me in with their warmth and camaraderie. I don’t think I’ve ever met a more accepting group of people.

Ivy’s past is still a bit murky to me, but the little I’ve gleaned from conversation tells me that it’s wild and fantastical. I realize I don’t have anything to fear from letting these people into my life, and I’ve started to relax and be myself.

I’m used to bands being a really big deal in Texas, performing at every football game and parade. Even though it isn’t quite the same here, everyone’s excited, and I’m happy to be here to support my new friend.

The only thing weighing on me currently is the 6‘5“ goalie with a face so handsome it hurts and a personality to match. He’s charming, and to be honest, I enjoy the attention he pays me. It’s been a long time since I allowed myself to care for someone, and I can feel things beginning to bubble up inside me. He’s awakened feelings that I’m not ready to face. Also, the timing couldn’t be worse. I’m leaving for college in a matter of months, and veterinary school is going to be a long, arduous process. Even if I were ready to open my heart again, now wouldn’t be the time.

I long for Mama’s comfort right about now. She’d make a pitcher of her famous sweet tea, pouring it into two glasses with ice cubes clinking against the sides. We would sit on the front porch and lean in close, sipping and talking until my worries melted away like the ice in the glass. I’ve been missing my parents more and more, so I make a mental note to call them tomorrow night when the rates are cheaper.

At least I have some distance right now because the guys aren’t sitting with us. Having arrived a little late, they had to stuff themselves into the bleachers near the top with the parents and teachers. I glance back and notice Delzy and Landry jockeying for room, and after a quick squabble, Landry knocks the backward baseball cap off Delzy’s head, causing a nearby teacher to give them a harsh reprimand. I can’t help but laugh. They are all three good guys who I honestly think will become amazing men. But sometimes, they are still little boys at heart, living to tease one another.

The music begins to fill the space, resonating off the walls. Sarah, Delzy’s cousin, and Sascha are both talented and play beautifully. I wish I had learned to play an instrument, but there wasn’t a lot of time to learn on our farm. Every minute I wasn’t in school, I was doing something to help Daddy or focus on some of my other passions. I missed out on some things, but I gained so much more, and I’m so proud of the life I’ve led, minus one decision that will haunt me forever. I shake my head to cast out those negative thoughts while reminding myself that the past is in the past, and it can’t be changed. I spend the next hour focusing on this moment and applauding my friends.

As the final song plays, the crowd erupts into cheers and applause. Once the accolades die down, we make our way to the gym foyer, where proud parents and friends swarm Sarah and Sascha. There’s brief talk of grabbing a bite to eat, but after a long day of rehearsals and the concert, everyone decides they’re tired and would rather go home.

“Do you need a ride?” Landry asks.

A wave of anxiety washes over me. I know deep down that it’s necessary to have a conversation and set boundaries, but my gut reaction is to decline. After taking a moment to collect myself, I force out a strained, “Sure. That’d be great.”

I hoist myself into his weathered Chevy truck, admiring the frayed edges of the seats and the rust spots dotting the exterior. The vehicle is nothing flashy, but it suits him perfectly—practical, unassuming, and reliable.

“What?” he asks as he turns the key in the ignition, and the truck rumbles to life.

I give him a casual shrug. “Your truck’s pretty sweet,” I say.

“Thanks,” he replies as he begins to back up. “Don’t forget your seatbelt.”

I click it into place as he continues the conversation. “My mom’s car was my first ride, but I barely fit in there, so my parents stepped in and helped me get this.”

“Makes sense,” I reply. “What size shoe do you wear, anyway?”

He chuckles and replies, “Fourteen.”

A low whistle leaves my lips. “You are a corn-fed boy.”

Landry’s deep chuckle fills the air. “I love your sayings,” he remarks, his eyes sparkling.

“Well, that’s good, ’cause you can take the girl out of Texas, but you can’t take Texas out of the girl.”

As we bump along the dusty dirt road, I fidget in my seat and try to make small talk. The truck rattles and shakes with each pothole we hit. I shift my gaze from the road to Landry, who looks relaxed as he steers the truck. Wanting to avoid the big conversation that needs to happen, I ask him about himself. He parks the truck and turns to face me, a small smile playing on his lips.

“What do you want to know?” he asks, his hands resting on the steering wheel.

“What do you like to do for fun?”

He chuckles again, his amber eyes crinkling at the corners. “Taz always teases me for being a homebody,” he says with a grin. “But I like it that way. Video games, hitting the gym, playing hockey, and spending time with my family—that’s my idea of a good time.” He shrugs sheepishly. “I guess I’m pretty predictable.”

I twist in my seat to face him, my head tilting with genuine curiosity. “I don’t know about predictable, but you do guard your words. Why is that?” I ask.

He meets my gaze, his eyes studying mine for a moment before he answers. “Does it bother you?”

I shake my head quickly. “Not at all. I’m just being nosy.”

He turns his head to look out the windshield. His eyes drift upward to the sky for a moment before returning to me. “I guess I don’t see the point in filling every silence with meaningless chatter. If there’s something worth saying, then I’ll say it.”

A small smile tugs at the corners of my lips. “You know, I think you have an old soul.”

He furrows his brow in confusion. “An old soul? What does that mean?”

“It means that you’re a deep thinker and you’re sensitive. You see things differently than most. I’ve seen it sometimes in animals, too. That probably sounds crazy, but it’s true.”

“It doesn’t sound crazy at all,” he says with a shake of his head. “The guys always tease me for being too ‘in touch with my feelings.’”

“Well, they clearly don’t understand the importance of emotional intelligence. A man who can’t be vulnerable and sensitive is lacking a crucial aspect of true masculinity. Not that you asked me.”

His eyebrows lift in surprise, likely expecting the same teasing he gets from his friends, but he won’t get it from me.

“So, Kerri from outside of Austin, Texas, what do you like to do?”

I sigh heavily before answering. “I used to be a cheerleader, and I spent twelve years in gymnastics.”

His eyes widen with interest. “Do you still do gymnastics?”

“Not competitively,” I reply. My muscles ache at the thought of trying a punch front series right now.

A mischievous glint sparks in his eyes, and he grins. “I bet my center split is better.”

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “You can do a center split?”

He nods. “I can. Goalies have to be extremely flexible in order to stop the puck in any position.”

“We’ll have to put it to the test,” I joke.

Landry’s gaze locks onto mine, and the air in the truck is suddenly charged. His voice drops to a low whisper as he asks, “What other secrets lie beneath that mysterious exterior of yours?”

I inhale deeply, filling my lungs with fresh air before exhaling slowly. “I don’t date—at least not right now. It’s non-negotiable.”

His face falls with disappointment. “Why?”

My eyes dart away, shielding any hint of emotion. “It’s a personal decision. Let’s just say past experiences have taught me to be cautious when it comes to my heart.”

His voice is low and regretful. “Well, that’s a serious bummer,” he admits, running his hand through his hair. “Did I manage to mess this up already?”

I place my hand over his, feeling its warmth against my palm. “No, no,” I reassure him. “Landry, this is all me. I’ve been through some things, and I made the decision a while back that I need to focus on myself and healing.”

He nods, his eyebrows knitting together in concern. “Are you okay? I mean, are you hurt?” he asks.

My heart aches at the genuine care in his voice. I know at this moment that if I were to give my heart to anyone, it would be him. “I’m okay now,” I say, offering him a grateful smile.

His lips curl up into a charming smile, and his dimple appears, causing my heart to flutter for a brief moment. “Can we at least stay friends?” he asks, his voice laced with hope.

“Of course we can,” I reply eagerly. “I’d like that very much.”

He extends his hand, palm facing upwards and pinky finger outstretched. “Pinky swear,” he says with a playful grin. I link my pinky with his, our fingers interlocking in an unbreakable promise.

“Pinky swear,” I reply with a smile of my own.