Filed to story: Luci Forrester and Easton Reed: Hockey Romance Story
I can definitely do better than that. Maybe two dozen flowers. I hurry inside to find my brothers sitting with Baker, devouring more cake. “You definitely got to her,” Jackson says, lifting his fork in a mock salute.
“I did. Thanks, Baker, for delaying dinner,” I reply, feeling a surge of gratitude.
He flashes a knowing smile. “I suppose I should make sure dinner is a group event every night going forward.”
“If you can.” I don’t want him messing with Cole’s schedule too much, so I’ll communicate when we’re done with practice. If necessary, I’ll put laxatives in Humphries’ water bottle.
“Easy enough to do. Someone needs to treat our Luci to something special.”
“If she’ll let me. Be right back.” I hurry down to Cole’s room, hoping he’s still awake. Thankfully, he is, and I quickly cross to his bed.
“Luci left, Daddy?” he asks, his eyes heavy with sleep.
“Yes. I need you to help Daddy and ask Luci if she’ll put you to bed every night this week. And we need to keep learning all her favorite things so we can surprise her.” It might be underhanded to use a cute little boy, but I believe in fighting dirty when necessary. I had Baker explain this plan to Cole before I got home.
“Daddy, you like Luci?” he asks, his voice innocent.
“I do. Who doesn’t?” I reply, trying to keep it casual, not wanting to give him any ideas just yet.
“The guy on your team who’s mean. The one who pushed the lady outside the hockey rink,” he says, and my heart races at the mention of Maxton.
“Maxton?” I ask, trying to keep my composure.
“I don’t know his name. He called Luci ‘little mouse.'” That’s definitely him. Proof of his identity as a prick.
“What did he do, Cole?”
“We were at the craft store, and he asked Luci on a date. She said no, and he got mad and grabbed her arm. She scratched him, and he got even angrier. They made him leave, and she hid me behind her.”
“Daddy will take care of it,” I assure him. He nods sleepily, and within minutes, he drifts off. I head back toward the kitchen, ready to confront Maxton the next time I see him.
As I enter, I find my brothers sitting with Baker, discussing me. They all stare at me, grinning, until they see the seriousness on my face. “What the hell? You were completely happy for once, and now you look pissed off,” Becker groans.
“Maxton cornered Luci today at the craft store. He asked her out and then grabbed her arm. Did you see any bruises on her? Cole said she scratched him,” I explain, my anger simmering just below the surface.
“Fucking asshole. In front of Cole too. I didn’t see any, but her sweater sleeves were long,” Jackson mutters, shaking his head.
The others nod in agreement. “He needs a serious lesson, I think,” Baker adds quietly.
“With my fists,” I reply, envisioning tossing him off a cliff. “I’ll see how badly he hurt her tomorrow. He will pay for it.”
“Hurt who?” I turn, surprised to see Dad standing in the doorway, watching us with a curious expression.
“You’re home early,” Jackson says quietly. Dad’s been back for three weeks, but we’ve barely seen him since that first weekend. Our guys’ dinners keep getting postponed.
“Tired of being gone each night for meetings I barely care about. I plan to be home much more often starting tonight. Your mother is playing bridge or something with her friends,” he says, settling into a chair with us. “Who is hurt?”
I decide to be honest. “Luci. Maxton Porter likes to hurt her.”
His eyes narrow in concern. “Physically?”
“Yes. He bruised her arm and neck when he got angry and grabbed her,” Becker answers, his voice steady.
“His father is a lot like that too. Strikes like an angry snake when he’s denied anything. Should I be expecting a call?” Dad gazes at each of us, his expression serious.
“Yes,” I reply bluntly. “He grabbed her in front of Cole today.”
Dad sighs heavily. “Don’t kill him, Easton. Stop at a full body cast and breathing tube. How about we go to dinner Saturday night? Could Luci keep Cole late on a weekend?”
“I’ll ask her.” I realize I need to surprise her on Friday night. First, though, some people need to learn that she’s not to be touched.
“Don’t eat your eraser! Did you skip breakfast again?” I freeze mid-bite, my pencil poised between my teeth, and glance up at Easton. He’s leaning casually against the desk, a smirk dancing on his lips, while his brothers filter in, taking their places around me. My mind races as confusion washes over me.
This is our only shared class, and I’ve strategically chosen a seat in the back, hoping to blend into the background. Meanwhile, they usually occupy the front row, basking in the sunlight streaming through the windows.
“Umm, are you guys lost or something?” I ask, genuinely puzzled. Easton plops down to my left, while Becker settles on my right.
“Nope, we’re sitting here,” he replies, his tone dismissive yet playful.
“Why?” I can’t help but sound suspicious, my eyebrows knitting together.
He locks his gaze onto mine, his lips pressing together as if he’s weighing his words. “The view’s better up here,” he finally declares.
What on earth could he mean by that? I return to gnawing on the end of my pencil, eyes flicking to my to-do list. Suddenly, a hand reaches over, gently tugging the pencil away from my mouth. “Here, Luci.” A cascade of Ferrero Rocher chocolates tumbles onto my desk, and I turn my head in disbelief to see Easton zipping up his backpack. “Those taste better than pencils,” he adds in a low voice, a hint of mischief in his tone.