14. Lawson

CHAPTER 14

LAWSON

“Wow, I'm surprised you guys showed up,” I tease as Nash and Pax walk toward me, the light foot traffic just off of Main Street moving out of their way as if they own the sidewalk. “Did you two ride together?” I joke.

Nash rolls his eyes, his hands tucked into the pockets of his leather jacket. A trio of women smile suggestively at him and wave as they walk by us as we stand outside of the little boutique where I've been waiting for them. Nash gives them a smile that I'm sure has dropped more panties than even me, but doesn't give them any more than that.

“I don't know why you're surprised,” Pax says, answering my earlier statement. “I guess you haven't realized that there isn't a shit-ton to do out here, and your cryptic text about needing help picking out a gift for someone was too tempting to pass up.” Pax shrugs. “Plus, anything to take our mind off the loss to the Sabers last night is good in my book.”

Nash and I cringe at the same time, a lead weight sinking in my gut.

The Sabers had put up a hell of a defense, and we couldn’t catch them. It wasn't our first loss, but it certainly stung after the couple wins we’d had that I hoped would trend and finally pull the Bangor Badgers out of the bottom tier list.

“Well,” I say. “Distraction abounds. Let's go.” I motion toward the eclectic boutique, holding the door open for my teammates, dare I say my friends . Sure, we continue to give each other mounds of shit on the ice, but outside of the arena? Nash and Pax actually have become two people I can count on, and that’s saying something. I don't know if it’s because I’m not actively pursuing every woman who shows interest in me like I had in the past, but I had more time to make real connections here in Bangor.

Probably another amazing gift that Blakely gave me without even knowing she did. I find myself thinking of Bangor as my new home.

I never felt that way about a team, even my collegiate one in Colorado. I'd always felt like it was a steppingstone to something greater, and though I’d bitched and moaned in the beginning about being picked by the Badgers, I couldn’t be happier than I am now.

The three of us meander around the store, the smell of rich incense filling the space. Art adorned the walls, all for sale from local artists, and there were racks of unique hand-tailored clothes, cases upon cases of jewelry, and books and teas and soaps and Jesus , how will I ever pick the right thing?

“What exactly is it we're looking for?” Pax asks.

“ Who exactly are we looking for would probably be a more apt question, wouldn't it?” Nash cocks a brow at me.

I give him an incredulous look. He knows damn well who we're looking for, he just wants me to say it out loud. I'm not going to give him the satisfaction.

“We're looking for Blakely, right?” Pax asks, glancing between us with that boyish innocence that still clings to him even though he’s a fully grown man.

“Of course,” Nash says, blowing out a sigh as he shakes his head. “You two are still at that? I thought it was casual?”

I swallow hard. There is nothing casual between me and Blakely anymore, not that we've officially officially come out and said that. I give a noncommittal shrug, hoping that's enough, but from the look on Nash’s face—which looks more concerned than I've ever seen him look before—it's not.

“What's that look?” I finally ask after we've browsed the store for a few more minutes and I'm still no closer to picking out a Christmas gift for my skating coach / non-girlfriend / Blakely.

“I don't have a look,” Nash says but immediately studies a bright pink blouse with more intensity than necessary.

“No, you’ve got a look,” I say. “What is it you're not saying?”

Nash and Pax share a glance, and it's not the first time I've seen them do it anytime Blakely comes up.

A stab of something like jealousy pierces the center of my chest, and I have to rub at it because I'm so shocked by the sensation. I know there's no way Blakely has ever dated these two, but they seem to know something about her that I don't, and it's been nagging at me for months.

“Will you just tell me already?” I shake my head. “Is it because she's our skate coach? I get it. It's complicated. I didn't mean for it to happen. I'm not going to stop seeing her unless she sends me away. So you might as well lay it on me.”

“It's not that she's our skate coach,” Nash says. “Although that is a whole other layer of complicated that I don't think you're really acknowledging. It's just that?—”

Pax hits Nash with the back of his hand, cutting off whatever it was he was about to say.

“Look,” Pax says, flashing me an apologetic look. “I like you. Arrogant son of a bitch that you are, you're not the reckless, selfish player that the media painted you to be. But it's not our story to tell.”

The weight of those words kick me straight in the balls, but I take a deep breath to try to work around it.

“But there is a story to tell,” I say, glancing between the two.

They both nod, but there’s nothing malicious or even regretful on either of their faces. So what the hell could they know about Blakely that she’d want to hide from me? Doesn’t she know I’m wild for her and there’s very little that will send me running?

I unpack the last thought a little, wondering if she really understands how much I truly care about her. This thing between us started as a wild and adventurous role-playing game as we pretended in front of her ex, but now it’s morphed into something more serious. I’m certain she feels and thinks the same, but if she’s still keeping secrets, maybe she isn’t there. I hate not knowing.

“Fuck,” I finally say, my shoulders dropping. “She doesn't trust me.” The cold words are out of my mouth before I can stop them and an accompanying sharp pain slices through me at the realization.

“That's not it,” Pax tries to assure me, but I'm already hopping aboard the pity party train with zero intentions of getting off of it.

“It's fine,” I say, waving him off as we continue looking around the shop.

My heart hurts as I’m currently looking for the perfect gift for a girl who doesn't trust me enough to tell me something that Pax and Nash know, but I still want to find something that will make her smile.

“She trusts you guys enough to tell you something that I don't know. It's pretty obvious you two have earned it in a way I haven’t.” I blow out a breath, stopping to look at the jewelry case. “And that's fair,” I add. “She's known you two for what, three years now? She's only known me a handful of months. It makes sense.”

I'm trying to convince myself more than them, and I'm sure they can tell, but I don't really give a shit.

It doesn't make sense to me, only in the sense that we have shared an incredible amount of intimate details about each other…details that don't include every inch of her body that makes her whimper in delight.

I told her about my past, about growing up without a father, about my mother sacrificing everything so me and my sister could be where we are today. She’s one of the only people on earth besides my sister that knows I text my mom every day, multiple times a day, keeping up an ongoing conversation because I never want her to feel alone even when I’m states away.

Blakely is also one of the only women I've ever been able to be still with, to be silent and calm and content with, just watching a show or spending a quiet dinner at home. She knows that because I’ve told her. Because I’ve been honest with her.

And she’d shared so many grueling and vulnerable details about her ex to me, the hardships she endured, the trauma and toxicity she didn’t even realize she'd been experiencing until after getting away from it. She’s opened up to me about growing up without a mom, opened up to me in ways that sliced open my heart. She trusted me with those vulnerabilities and yet there’s still a piece of her I don’t know about?

“Did you two know her ex?” I ask, snagging a question from my racing thoughts as I study the jewelry before me. There’s an eclectic collection of vintage pieces plucked straight out of dusty antique shops and brought here to be resold.

There are rings with unique gemstones like alexandrite and color-changing garnets, and bracelets that could coil around Blakely’s arm with gold and silver, or necklaces with Victorian-looking lockets encrusted with sapphires, and pens and brooches and everything in between.

“Yeah, I met him several times,” Pax says, and he doesn't try to hide the disdain in his voice. “He'd meet up with us sometimes when we were all together as a group?—”

“You mean a group including you and your not-girlfriend who also happens to be our physical therapist?” Nash cuts him off, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Yep, that about sums it up,” Pax fires back, rolling his eyes before focusing on me again. “I never liked the guy, and I told Monroe as much. She agreed with me, but Blakely was already in too deep. I never realized how bad it was until she finally came out and told us. I always knew he was a douchebag, I just didn't realize he was worse behind closed doors. He was such a prick. Always answering for her or saying she couldn't do something.”

I nod, because that much is on track with what I’ve seen and what Blakely has told me.

Again, this very recent and tumultuous past could be exactly the reason she hasn't fully opened up to me yet. And it’s selfish and downright juvenile of me to feel hurt over that fact. All I can do is keep proving to her with my actions that I’m somebody she can trust with her secrets.

That knowledge reinvigorates me with extra motivation, and I continue to scan the store with my friends in tow.

“Has that problem settled down?” Nash asks, clearly referring to the way her ex had been badgering her.

“I think he’s starting to get the hint,” I say, stopping in front of a wall of shelves containing porcelain teacups and teapots that look straight out of the Victorian era. “The texting has gone down, but after everything, I'm not sure what’s going to be the final straw for this guy.”

I pick up a delicate teapot with blue and pink flowers painted all over it, the pattern looking incredibly similar to one I saw on the latest episode of Bridgerton we watched together.

I examine the thing a little closer, finding a made in England stamp on the bottom that makes me smile. My girl is obsessed with that show, and this will be a little piece of it for her world.

I clutch the thing to my chest, not wanting to break the delicate porcelain, and move on to the next section of the store.

“If you ever need any help with that,” Nash says. “Need backup to intimidate the asshole, you can always ask us, you know that right?”

“Aww,” I exaggerate the word and use my free hand to reach out to him, placing my hand on his shoulder and batting my eyes at him. “Did we just become best friends?”

Nash shakes his head. “Don't make me regret it,” he says.

Pax holds up an ancient-looking book, The Art of Afternoon Tea scribbled across the spine in gold lettering. “This will go great with that teapot,” he says before using his free hand to wave enthusiastically to someone behind us.

Nash and I turn around, my hand still on his shoulder, the motion making me practically wrap my arm around the dude, a teapot clutched lovingly in my other arm, and our motherfucking captain staring at us like we’re aliens from another planet.

I quickly drop my arm from Nash, surveying the scene and trying not to laugh.

“We were just?—"

“I don't care,” Kiplin cuts me off, shaking his head at the three of us.

“Uncle Clay, these are perfect!” a young girl says as she runs from the front of the store, jumping up and down while she holds a pair of baby-blue gloves.

Clay looks down at the girl—who has dark black hair secured in two braided pigtails, and can’t be more than five years old—and surprisingly doesn’t drop the scowl off his face. “Are those the ones you want?” he asks, his voice just a hint softer than normal.

“Yes, please!” The girl stares up at him with the biggest grin on her face, like she doesn’t see the scary-as-shit-looking giant but just a big cuddly teddy bear.

“All right, then,” Clay says, waving her toward the counter.

I grab the book from Pax, thanking him before heading to the register myself. “Who is this?” I ask, waving down to the excited girl at Clay’s side.

“I’m Jessica,” the girl says. “His niece,” at the same time Clay says, “None of your business,” in a gruff tone that matches the near perma-scowl on his face.

“Nice to meet you, Jessica.” I grin down at her.

Clay eyes the teapot and book as I set it down on the counter next to him.

“If that's who I think it's for, then I definitely don't want to know who it’s for,” he says before handing Jessica the gloves he’s just bought for her.

Kiplin nods to Pax and Nash behind me, then gives me a shake of his head before reaching down, taking Jessica’s hand in his and exiting the store without another word.

I smile at the person behind the counter before looking at Nash and Pax. “I'm pretty sure I'm his new favorite,” I say, and the two laugh.

“You're definitely not,” Pax says, and Nash nods in agreement.

“I totally am,” I say with faux offense.

“You're not,” Nash says. “He's always harder on the people he actually likes.”

“Well that only further proves my point,” I say. “He's always riding me in practice.”

“Ha,” Pax laughs. “That isn't even half of what he could be doing, trust me.”

“Huh,” I say, handing the person behind the register a wad of cash as they gift wrap my two items. “I guess I'll have to work harder to annoy him then,” I say, smirking at my friends as I take my wrapped items and thank the person before we head out back onto Main Street.

“Good luck with that,” Nash says, tucking his hands back into his pockets to protect them against the cold.

We all sort of duck against the brutal wind that delivers a frosty sting.

“Food?” Pax asks as we all linger outside the little shop.

“I'm down,” Nash answers, nodding down the street where there’s a burger joint.

“I'm in,” I say, motioning to my car parked a few spaces down. “Let me just go put this away and I'll meet you there.”

The guys give me a nod, heading to the burger joint, and I hurry to stow my gifts for Blakely in the back seat of my car. As I lock it up, I can't help but feel this overwhelming sense of solidarity as I head to lunch with my teammates. It does everything to wash away the worry I have regarding the last piece of Blakely that I don't hold yet, and I find myself hopeful not only about the future with me and her, but with this new team that’s starting to feel a hell of a lot like family.