Filed to story: Luci Forrester and Easton Reed: Hockey Romance Story
“I guess so. It’s just strange and messing with my head,” I admit, feeling a swirl of emotions as we walk into the area with the stage. Chairs have been set up, and we find a spot near the front, arriving early. I know the moment the four kings enter the room. Two single moms from Cole’s class are seated in front of us, chatting animatedly. I’ve met most of them during pick-up times. One suddenly bites her lip and stares across the room, shaking her hair back and subtly thrusting her chest out. I sneak a glance and see the four of them walking in with their father.
“Damn, it’s like they emit pheromones wherever they go,” Syd mutters, chuckling softly. “I love watching females try to attract their attention, like those red phalarope birds we saw the other night.” We have a knack for finding the strangest things to learn about; National Geographic has us hooked sometimes.
The second mom plastered on a smile, openly gawking as she leans forward. “I think there are better seats over there in that center section,” she suggests, her voice dripping with eagerness as she gestures to where the four now sit in the back row. I slump down in my seat, hoping to avoid their gaze. Meanwhile, Syd is busy watching the scene unfold, and I turn to look over the back of my chair. Both women have approached the brothers, trying to sit right on top of them, leaning over their chairs with exaggerated interest.
“They do. I think it’s some kind of blonde god hockey player scent that attracts all the ladies to the yard-or the ice, wherever they are,” I joke, and she laughs.
“Better than milkshakes,” she teases. “Those two are definitely showing off their plumage and milky assets, that’s for sure.”
I chuckle softly, wondering how often those guys take a female bird up on the offer to visit their nest. They all live.
29 CONTENT: Easton
“Do you guys play hockey or football? With those muscles, it seems like a waste if you don’t,” I quipped, my tone teasing. The thought crossed my mind to tell them we were actually chess enthusiasts battling a rather contagious disease, but I held my tongue. They were already turned toward us, flirting with abandon, even as the program was about to kick off.
“Is one of those cuties yours? My daughter is the one with the adorable dark curls, the second girl from the left,” the first desperate mom interjected, twisting halfway in her seat, her eagerness palpable.
“Didn’t think she’d have time to find her,” Kingston muttered under his breath, a hint of annoyance in his tone. Dad shot both women a glare, but honestly, it felt like a lost cause. He should just count his blessings that they weren’t throwing their attention his way.
Desperate number two wasn’t about to be outdone. “My son is the boy dressed as a hunter over there. It was a challenge to find his costume. Too bad his father isn’t around,” she said, casting a sideways glance at Becker, who rolled his eyes in response.
“I’d have run from her too. Not the kid,” he whispered, a smirk creeping onto his face.
“Is your child up there? Which one…” she started, but before she could finish, Jackson finally reached his limit.
“SHHHH!!” he exclaimed, his voice booming as he shushed them loudly. The woman sitting next to them turned and flashed us a big smile, as if thanking us for the moment of peace.
Yet, as always, their determination only seemed to grow. Instead of the usual heartwarming Thanksgiving story, this performance was all about Thanksgiving traditions, and it was quite humorous. I scanned the stage again, still unable to spot Cole. He had been tight-lipped about his costume choice, even when I suggested he should probably order one. When I mentioned calling Mrs. Hutchins for help, he had firmly shut me down, insisting that Luci had everything under control.
My eyes roamed the stage once more, but still no sign of him. The desperation sisters remained half-turned toward us, their interest unwavering. Suddenly, a flash of a familiar scarf caught my attention during my search for Cole. Wait, that brown hair looks familiar. My gaze followed as her face turned toward a familiar blonde head, laughter bubbling between them.
I nudged Jackson, excitement bubbling inside me. “Luci and Sydney are here!” My words barely escaped my lips when his sharp gaze followed mine, locking onto the two girls.
“Surprised?” he asked, his eyes glued to them as if willing them to look our way.
“Yes, Cole’s been keeping secrets from us,” I replied, turning my focus back to the stage where the hunters, including the son of desperate number two, were discussing their quest to find a turkey for Thanksgiving dinner.
“I wonder what the turkey is thankful for this year,” the first hunter mused aloud, a thoughtful expression on his face.
“Crazy thought-what’s the turkey thankful for? It’s on our menu!” another hunter chimed in, laughter lacing his voice.
I could hear Becker snickering beside me. “How fuc…fudging fitting,” he mumbled, making a comical grimace. I followed his gaze and that’s when I spotted Cole, stealthily tiptoeing onto the stage from behind the hunters. “He’s the turkey!” Dad cackled, amusement lighting up his features. Cole’s costume was nothing short of elaborate, but the highlight was undoubtedly the two giant yellow feathers flopping around on top of his head, bobbing with each careful step he took to evade the hunters. I glanced over at Luci, who was laughing at his antics. Where on earth did she find that costume?
As the hunters moved offstage, Cole took center stage, and I couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of him maneuvering with those giant claws strapped to his feet. It was a seriously impressive costume. He dramatically whispered to the audience, “I’m thankful I can run fast.” His eyes connected with mine, his little face lighting up with joy. We waved excitedly at him, and he returned to his wobbly running.
Moments later, the hunters returned, their expressions downcast. “We’ll go back out and find that giant turkey. We don’t have Thanksgiving dinner yet!” Cole’s turkey, meanwhile, was hiding on the other side of the house, grinning at the audience. They discovered a white bag on the doorstep. “Who left this here?” they wondered aloud, opening it to reveal a giant ham cutout. They exchanged confused glances before dramatically shrugging. “Looks like dinner is done.” They walked into the house, and Cole stealthily returned to center stage. “I’m also thankful for Instacart and two-hour delivery,” he declared, and the audience erupted in laughter, myself included.
Luci was gesturing animatedly, mouthing something to him. He beamed back at her before flapping his arms, “Gobble, gobble! Happy Thanksgiving!”
The entire group returned to the stage, and we erupted into a standing ovation, clapping enthusiastically. Cole stood in the middle, a wide grin plastered across his face. He waved at us before turning to acknowledge the girls, his excitement contagious. As the parents began to mingle, we waited for the kids to take pictures on stage. Cole was in line, waving furiously at me.
Desperate number one turned to me with an overly bright smile as I stood to leave our row. “We’re going to lunch. Would any of you four like to join us? We could share our holiday woes as single parents,” she suggested, her eyes scanning our hands for rings.
I pushed past them, my irritation bubbling just beneath the surface. Luci and Sydney were at the stage, chatting with Cole as he posed for pictures. I paused to snap a photo of my own. He was eagerly waiting for his turn with his teacher. Jackson joined me, and together we moved toward our extra guests.
Syd elbowed Luci playfully. “Are you responsible for that turkey?”
“Kind of. He wanted to surprise you guys,” she replied, glancing at Cole with a soft smile.
“He definitely did. He was perfectly cast,” Jackson agreed, amusement dancing in his eyes.
“Luci worked hard on that costume,” Syd chimed in, her eyes widening as Luci subtly shook her head in denial.
“You made that?” I asked, my surprise evident now.
“Well, there wasn’t time to order something so elaborate, and Mrs. Hutchins wanted it to be over the top. The ones you find online look like starved turkeys, and Cole wanted to be a plump one. So, yes, I made it,” she admitted, her voice trailing off as I caught a whiff of desperation. The sisters had returned, following Becker and Kingston, and Luci turned back to the stage as Cole called for her. He was posing with Mrs. Hutchins and then with the hunters.
I ignored the woman tapping my arm, eager to watch her take pictures of Cole. Earlier that morning, I had left flowers on her doorstep, a thoughtful gesture that had left her confused. Syd had mentioned she was riding with her today, but failed to mention they would be arriving here. Like a stalker, I had lingered nearby to observe her reaction. She had approached the flowers cautiously, as if they might explode. I had to restrain myself when I saw her struggling to lift that heavy vase; I might not have thought that through when ordering three dozen flowers. At least she wouldn’t forget them. I had watched until she left with Sydney, shaking her head, probably convinced that the flowers were mistakenly delivered by the florist. If anyone had seen me, they might have thought I was some creepy weirdo, grinning from the shadows, especially since she wore the scarf and gloves I had bought her. She always seemed to shiver, yet never wore them. I suspected she either forgot them or simply didn’t think to buy them.
I had been keeping an eye on her all week, ensuring no one bothered her-especially Maxton. She had almost caught me a few times, but Syd had helped by physically turning her away from me. It terrified me how easy it was to follow her; it wasn’t like I could blend in anywhere with my size. Once she agreed to be mine, we would definitely need some safety lessons. I had learned she was a creature of habit, likely due to her focus issues, but it made her an easy target. Every morning, she visited the coffee shop near the accident site where she met Cole, ordering her chai tea latte. On Tuesday, she had only gotten that. However, after seeing her with a muffin the last two mornings, I had asked the girl working there, and she told me they were out of blueberry muffins on Tuesday.
My joke about her eating her pencil hadn’t been far off the mark. Then came her classes, home, and then off to pick up Cole. I needed to find out if Maxton had been following her more closely, especially since he recognized Cole on sight-a massive red flag.
I discreetly observed her as she chatted with Mrs. Hutchins about Cole’s costume. Desperate number two inched closer to me, licking her lips. “You know, I always dread these events. Your kid, though, he begs until you relent, right? We could drown our sorrows in a martini or a glass of wine over lunch,” she suggested, her tone thick with desperation.