She nods. "What we did. What we do next. All of that. Look, if it was just a one-night stand… two-night stand, or whatever, that's fine. I am a big girl and I don't expect much from life. And definitely not from men."
Ouch. It’s hard not to take that personally, but I try not to. I think of the food in my hand and the guy it’s for and remember, Mac was that guy. When she was twelve. A baby. I have no idea the types of trauma she endured back then, but I’m sure it all left some scars. She has a right to feel however she is feeling. I just have to make it clear what I’m feeling. So… I will. As soon as I figure that out. “I never said it was a two-night stand. Honestly, I don’t know what it was, but I know I want to find out. Which is why I was going to call you. I was going to ask you out on a date. Much more charismatically than blurting it out in a deli.”
“Out? On a date?”
Her confusion is actually cute. “Yeah. A real one. Maybe even with wooing.”
“Wooing,” she repeats back to me as her eyes move from mine to the door again, and it reminds me that I have to get this food to the dude. Why is she here again? Did she say?
“I think we both have somewhere to be right now so I’ll let you go,” I tell her. “But I’ll call you. Okay?”
“O… Kay,” There she is, so stunned she’s splitting up words again.
I lean in, using my free hand to touch her upper arm so she doesn’t bolt on me, and I lightly press my lips to her cheek. “I’ll text you tonight. I promise. In fact, as the crown prince of hockey, I swear on my family jewels.”
Her mouth, painted a soft deep coral color I note, splits in a smile. I turn away from her, which doesn’t feel natural but has to be done. I head out the door, thanking a guy coming in who is holding it open for me, and force myself not to look back at her. I find the guy and his dog right where I left them. He looks genuinely shocked I came back.
I spend the next ten minutes giving him the food and the dog food and the jacket for his dog. He tells me his name is Josh and the dog is, unironically, named Lucky. Finally, I hand him a hundred bucks and ask him if there's anything else I can do. "Are you kidding me? You're fucking Santa Claus dude," he tells me, giving me a smile with teeth that need a good brushing. "This is more than anyone has done for me all year. I can rent a room for a couple days with this money in this boarding house Iknow. It's not great but it's warm and dry and takes dogs and has hot water for a shower."
Jesus, all the things he’s listing as a treat, are things that have been in my life, without even thinking about it, my entire existence. I nod and jerk my thumb back toward the arena. “I just started work over that way and am in the area a lot now… so like maybe I’ll see you again.”
“I hope so. And thanks. Really, like thanks.”
I pat Lucky's head and nod then turn to walk away, which feels kind of shitty despite his kind words. Because there's got to be more I can do. I make it to the corner and shift my weight from foot to foot anxiously as I wait for the light to change. I shoot a look over my shoulder to find Josh opening a tin of the dog food and dumping it into a metal bowl he must have pulled out of his old backpack.
But then I see something else further down the street, which slopes up. Walking side-by-side is Mac and a man I’ve never seen before. She’s smiling up at him, looking beautiful and happy, and he’s talking animatedly. He’s older than me. Older than her. He’s holding a takeaway cup with the logo of the deli we were just in.
Was she waiting there for him? For a date with him? It looks like a date. He pulls out a key and turns to the building and I realize he's opening a door to… his apartment? That's the first leap my brain takes and it causes me to feel like I've thrown myself onto jagged glass. Which is… not great. In fact, it sucks.
I watch him hold the door open for her and she disappears inside. Someone bustles by me into the crosswalk because the light has changed and is currently about to change again, so I wrench my eyes from the sight of Mac and her mystery dude and walk away.
Because what the fuck else can I do?
Chapter 24
Conner
The food is incredible. Declan came home from work with takeaway containers of lobster bisque and the best lobster rolls I've ever eaten, and as a Mainer, I've had my fair share. I don't know if I should be eating lobster rolls and bisque during the season. I normally wouldn't, but fuck it, it's been a day.
Abbott is eating them too so I don’t feel too much like I’m breaking the rules or anything. Staying with them has been interesting. His life is so different from mine. I know he’s got a few years on me, but still. I feel like he’s a decade ahead of me when I observe this family life he has.
The two are like a typical married couple, even though they aren’t officially married. They bicker over silly things, finish each other’s sentences, and shoot each other smiles only they seem to get the meaning of. Right now they’re debating the menu details of Abbott’s sister’s spring wedding. Declan has been put in charge of catering it through his family’s restaurant. They make me homesick, honestly, because they remind me of what life is like in Silver Bay with all the Garrisons and Richards… and Mac.
“So, Con, when is your family finally going to come to a game?” Abbott asks me as he finishes his bisque. “The marketing department is itching to do some reels with your dad or uncles and you.”
“Ah… I’ve kind of been asking them to stay away,” I admit. “I wanted time to settle in first. I don’t know if the coach is really vibing with me yet. And I know when my family comes to games, the media attention can be distracting for me, the fans, the coaches. The Barons used to hate it. I mean, the marketing department loved it, but Coach hated the way it pulled focus off the team and onto me when my dad and uncles were visiting. He actually asked that I not participate in the father-son weekend trip last year.”
Abbott and Declan are both staring at me in shock now. I just give them a bit of a shrug. “Wow. He sounds like a piece of work.”
“I hope you participated anyway,” Declan tells me.
“I didn’t,” I confess. “I honestly jumped through hoops for that team and that management and no matter what I did it just never worked.”
"I feel that way with our coach sometimes," Abbott confesses and then he immediately looks guilty. "I can't say he's as bad as what you've described with Landry. Not at all. But it makes sense you're not feeling like you're vibing with him. I still don't and it's been almost two years. The guy is brutally old-school in a lot of ways. He doesn't understand why players have become brands, or why they all have to have social media accounts of their own and let the fans into their lives. And he especially has issues with the way the owners stick their fingers in the management side of the team."
I think about the rumors I’ve seen buzzing on sports sites and that some of the hockey trolls have been bold enough to put on my own seldomly used Instagram. I finish my soup and reach forthe pitcher of water in the center of the table, topping up everyone’s glass before refilling my own. “About that. I did the obligatory ‘thanks Barons for a great run. Looking forward to my future with the Riptide” post on my usually neglected Insta and a few people made the usual mean girl type comments.”
“Gotta love the internet,” Declan growls and rolls his eyes.