Relief flooded her. “Really?”
“Really.” He grasped her shoulders, one corner of his mouth twitching in a grin. “So. You and the hockey player?”
“His name’s Gage.”
He released her. “You and Gage.”
“I’m not sure he’s still in the picture, but if he is, can you get used to having him around?”
“I will if I have to.”
“He plays guitar, you know. And he’s pretty good.”
His grin broadened. “See? I like him better already.” He pulled her in for a quick hug “Honestly, Lil. Whatever you want. You deserve to be happy.”
“I do, don’t I?”
After Derek and Vi left, Lily checked her phone—something she’d been doing for weeks—and was disappointed with the same result. Nothing from Gage. Enough time had passed that she didn’t know exactly how to bridge the breach. Awkwardness and embarrassment bobbed inside her, not to mention the worry that she’d jinx his awesome play. It was one thing to open herself up. It was another thing to convince him to give her another chance. Was he willing?
Only one way to find out.
She called Ivy. “I really screwed things up with Gage.”
“And?”
“And I’m gonna need your help to unscrew them.”
Chapter 36
The Holy Grail
For Christ’s sake, another fucking party.
Gage groaned when he saw the text from Beckett Miller. Not only was it another party he wanted nothing to do with, but it was really going to chap his huevos. The wound from losing to Miller’s team during the Western Conference Final was still raw. And damn if Arizona didn’t go on to win the Stanley Cup! It was mid-June, a week after their victory, and Miller had one of the first turns with the trophy after announcing he was done. The big blowout was a nod to the Cup win, his retirement, and the birth of his second daughter.
As if the victory parade in Phoenix hadn’t been celebration enough.
Yeah, it would be a rip-roaring time. Whoopee!
Sarah, who’d decided on a whim to spend a few days in Denver, was Gage’s lone bright spot and his plus-one. As they strolled into Miller’s backyard, Gage was bowled over by the sea of tents and balloons, a ridiculous number of children tearing around, and a stage butted up in a corner.
Sarah’s mouth dropped open. “Wow! They really went all out.”
“Might as well. It’s his day with Lord Stanley’s Cup. Party on,” Gage said dryly.
He grabbed beers from one of the tents, and they ambled toward Miller, standing tall in a cluster of people. The guy was hard to miss—his smile alone was like a beacon, and a sharp pang of envy stabbed Gage. Next year, he promised himself, he’d get the holy grail of hockey and hold his own celebration with his mites and the sled team. Yeah.
Sarah tugged his sleeve. “There’re Natalie and T.J.”
They stood in the group surrounding Miller, intent on whatever was happening in front of them on the patio.
“What’s going on?” Gage asked when they joined them.
“Oh, hey,” Natalie said absentmindedly, giving them each a side-hug.
T.J. jerked his chin. “Nelsy.” He leaned in and gave Sarah a brotherly squeeze.
“Baby Audrey is getting baptized in the Cup,” Natalie whispered.
Gage glimpsed the little mush-ball of a baby actually in the Cup, all swaddled and looking like a drowsy dumpling. Miller, his arm anchored around his wife’s shoulders, stood to the side while a guy in black shirtsleeves cradled the baby’s head and recited something. On the other side stood people Gage guessed were their family members.
Miller’s life was rich.
Gage focused on the Cup, and his breath hitched. It was beautiful, all silver and polished and gleaming, engraved with thousands of names of those who went before. What would it feel like to hoist it over his head on the ice? Kiss it? Hand it off to a teammate? Celebrate among friends and family?
The thought of having his own day with it was suddenly overshadowed by an ache he’d been living with for months. Lily and Daisy probably wouldn’t be part of it—or anything else in his life—and his heart sank.
He hadn’t talked to Lily since mid-April, though she’d dominated his thoughts every single hour of every single day. What would he say? Hey, I know you want nothing to do with me, but wanna get together for pancakes and coffee?
When the baptism was finished, he and T.J. shuffled toward the Cup, keeping a respectful distance. No way would either of them touch it. Not until they’d won it.
“Talked to Grims,” T.J. said out of the side of his mouth.
“Yeah?”
“Says he’ll be ready for training camp.”
Gage gave the automatic answer. “Good.”
What Gage didn’t share with T.J. was that Grims had sent him a text apologizing for the quandary he’d put Gage in and acknowledging he had a long way back to earn Gage’s trust. And respect. Yeah, Grims had lost a lot of chips. His use of PEDs had remained a tight-lipped team secret, so he hadn’t endured the wrath of the league. No automatic suspension. No forced drug rehab. No public humiliation. Was that just?
Gage’s opinion on the outcome was ambivalent at best—he was glad his teammates had remained oblivious, but he was still pissed at his captain. He was also busy beating himself up for his role in the whole mess, even though, in the end, no good answer had existed. This was a rare instance where Grandma had had it wrong. The right path wasn’t always clear, whether you had a moral compass to guide you or not. No, this problem had bled all across the gray spectrum. Nothing about it was tidy, and answers weren’t always easy or obvious.
Just like expecting Lily to do what he wanted and give Jack up might not have been so black-and-white either.
T.J. whacked him on the shoulder, jarring him back to Miller’s backyard.
“Let’s go congratulate the son of a bitch and get it over with.” T.J. smirked.
After the obligatories were dispensed with, Gage glanced around. Sarah had disappeared, so he peeled
