Filed to story: Luci Forrester and Easton Reed: Hockey Romance Story
“Star Wars with actual yellow cartoon stars as the characters that shoot moonbeams instead of lightsabers.”
“Very creative, Luci. Sweet dreams.”
“You too.” She yawned, and I could hear the weariness in her voice.
Luci
Last night was a restless one for me, sleep eluding me as I tossed and turned, trapped in a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. I often find myself envious of those individuals who seem to possess an unshakeable resilience, able to shrug off their feelings and bury them deep within. But that’s not who I am. I have to confront my emotions, to sift through them, even when it feels overwhelming. At times, my empathy becomes a double-edged sword, cutting deeper than I’d like.
After what felt like an eternity of staring at the ceiling, I finally decide that lying in bed any longer is futile. With a sigh, I swing my legs over the side and push myself up. The remnants of my history essay loom over me like a specter, but thankfully, there’s only one piece left to tackle. As I brew my coffee, the rich aroma fills the air, and I can’t help but replay yesterday’s events in my mind, wishing fervently that some of those old ghosts would simply vanish.
Just as I’m lost in thought, my phone buzzes, and I glance down to see a message from Easton. “Hope you slept, Luci.”
I can’t help but wish I had. “Did your dinner go well?” I respond, deliberately sidestepping his question.
“About as expected. We’re taking Cole to the zoo today with my dad,” he replies, and I can almost picture him shrugging, that casual demeanor of his coming through the screen.
“Have fun,” I text back, but as I reread our exchange, a familiar knot of confusion tightens in my stomach. What exactly are we, I wonder? He took me out on a date, yet the ground beneath us feels uncertain. He wants to talk tomorrow, and I find myself hoping he brings it up first. Not that it truly matters, I remind myself, recalling the words of his mother that linger like a haunting melody.
As the day unfolds, I immerse myself in my studies, making significant progress on my homework and only losing focus a few times. Tonight, we’re gathering at Sydney’s for dinner, and she’s asked me to come over early. I picked up cupcakes yesterday as my contribution, a small token of sweetness for the evening. Once I’m ready to head out, I shoot her a quick text, and she responds, telling me to let myself in.
The moment I step through her door, soft music envelops me, and I hear her voice floating through the air as she sings. She’s in the kitchen, carefully pulling a lasagna from the oven. “Hey Syd!” I call out, wanting to announce my presence so I don’t startle her.
“Heard you already!” she replies, placing the lasagna on the stove before tossing her oven mitts aside. I set the cupcakes down on her island, and she turns to face me, her expression shifting to one of concern. “So, I found out that Stormi had a problem with a ball player at her last school. Apparently, he was harassing her, which is why she left her old college.”
“Sounds like she’s got a knack for attracting jackasses too, just like us,” I say, a wry smile creeping onto my lips.
“Seems that way. We’ll see if she opens up about it. If she does, I think we can trust her,” Sydney replies, her brow furrowing slightly.
Just twenty minutes later, there’s a knock at the door, and Stormi enters, dropping her salad on the counter before walking over to me. She takes my hands in hers, her grip gentle yet firm. “I heard Maxton Porter got cut from the hockey team for some stunt he pulled Friday night. Luci, did it have anything to do with you? Did he hurt you? My friend Mike mentioned he has a nasty streak and has seen him yelling at you.”
“It did and it didn’t,” I reply, swallowing hard. “He vandalized the coach’s office and tried to frame me for it. He even tried to trap me in there.”
Stormi slams her fist on the island, her frustration palpable. “Damn, I wish I’d never given him my phone number.”
“It wouldn’t have changed much. He already had my number and was planning to use some trick to make his number look like a friend’s just to lure me in,” I say, a shiver running down my spine as I recall Easton’s revelations.
Stormi’s expression softens, her eyes filled with compassion. “I heard from some people at the paper that the football team has been treating you poorly, especially Julian Soames. If you ever want to talk about it, I’m here for you. I know a lot about athletes who turn nasty.”
“What happened to you?” Sydney interjects, her curiosity piqued as I hesitate, weighing the decision to share my story.
Stormi’s face contorts with pain. “I dated a baseball player before we moved. When I refused to sleep with him after two months, he spread fake nude pictures of me around campus. It was incredibly awkward since my mom taught at the school.”
“Did the college do anything about it?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“Not a thing. His family was wealthy and tight with the dean. Plus, he was one of their star players; they had made it to the college world series the year before. I fought back through the school paper to clear my name. My editor was all for it. But never underestimate the lengths a self-absorbed athlete will go to,” she says, her voice heavy with bitterness.
“Truer words have never been spoken,” I agree softly, feeling the weight of our shared experiences.
Taking a deep breath, Stormi continues, “My brother, Lyle, has Down Syndrome, and Cade thought it would be funny to use him to get back at me. He became Lyle’s buddy through his trade school program and tried to turn him against me. It was horrific. He seemed to pop up everywhere. Once my parents figured it out, my mom resigned, and we left. We came here, and finally, I can breathe again.”
Sydney gazes at me, her expression filled with understanding, and nods subtly. I tuck my legs beneath me, settling in for a deeper conversation.
“My parents died when I was three, Stormi. I grew up in foster care, and the other kids in high school used to tease me about it. It’s not the most important part of my story, but it made me crave a change, a fresh start where no one knew my past.”
Stormi’s eyes soften with sympathy. “That’s important, Luci.”
I shake my head, brushing off her concern. “When I came here for my freshman year with Sydney on a full scholarship, I was excited for a new beginning. I wanted to experience life as an unknown, free college girl. We snagged student tickets to the football games and attended the first two home games. They were a good team that year. Julian’s older brother was the senior quarterback-Marshall, that’s his name. After the second game, I popped into the store late that night and quite literally bumped into Marshall in the ice cream aisle. I was lost in my thoughts, and he laughed, introducing himself. He was charming and asked if I wanted to grab coffee. We talked for hours, and I thought he was genuine and funny. He asked for my number, and I, the naive little girl that I was, gave it to him. Strike one.”
Sydney squeezes my hand, knowing what’s coming next. “After a few dates where he would bring dinner or dessert, he asked me to be his girlfriend but insisted we keep it quiet until the season ended. His coach was a psycho about dating during the season. I was such a naive idiot for agreeing.”
“I thought he cared about me,” I confess, my voice wavering. “I thought I was falling for him. He knew about my ADHD and all my secrets, and he acted like they were nothing to worry about. We finally slept together after four months, that December. During winter break, Syd and I went shopping for Christmas presents, and I was ironically looking for his gift. I heard him laugh and got all excited, running around the corner to surprise him. Instead, I walked in on him kissing another girl’s neck, and they were laughing together. She was stunning. I stood frozen, watching him whisper sweet nothings in her ear. My heart shattered when he told her he loved her. I backed away in horror and stumbled into a Christmas display, sending it crashing down. When I sat up, he was staring right at me, his expression a mix of shock and fear. He hurried that girl out of the store.”
“Marshall showed up at my place later that night, claiming it was all a misunderstanding. But by then, Syd and I had done our own digging. She heard him call the girl by name-Brooklyn Humphries, the beloved daughter of Franklin Humphries, Kenton’s head football coach. She was shattered when she found out he cheated on her. He blamed me for everything.”
“Luci, that’s awful!” Stormi exclaims, her eyes wide with disbelief.
“Yeah, it felt like I was living in a nightmare. I was turned into the other woman without even knowing it. I discovered there was another girl before me, and we could have formed a support group.”
“Damn, that sonofabitch!” Stormi rants, her voice laced with venom. “If only someone would take him down a peg. I’d love to see a big hockey player break his f*****g hands and end his career.”
Sydney claps slowly, a grin spreading across her face. “Welcome to our tribe, Luci. I love that idea, and I’ll be sure to pass it along to a certain blonde hockey god who definitely has a righteous temper.”
I look at Stormi, surprise etched on my face. “I saw him following you in the hallway one day. He was staring at you with this little smile. If he hasn’t asked you out yet, he will,” she says, a fleeting smirk crossing her lips. But then her expression shifts, and she suddenly grips my other hand, fear in her eyes. “Luci, did Marshall ever force you?”