Filed to story: Luci Forrester and Easton Reed: Hockey Romance Story
“Night, Coco. Love you back,” I reply, feeling a swell of affection.
Easton leaves the video call open, watching as Cole drifts off to sleep within minutes. He wanders back into his room, settling against his headboard. I can’t help but admire him for a moment-he proves that men can be incredibly gorgeous. “Luci… you with me, sweetness?” he asks, breaking the silence.
“Easton, can you come here early? Like around 9:30? I need to explain some things about Janet,” I say, my voice earnest.
“Yeah. Can’t you tell me now?” He tilts his head, curiosity dancing in his eyes.
“No, I want to tell you in person,” I insist, feeling the weight of my words.
“We’ll be there. Are you okay with us going? Maybe you want to be alone,” he offers, his concern evident.
“No, Cole really wants to go. It’s okay. I’d like you to meet her.” I genuinely would. Janet is refreshingly no-frills, and I can see Easton’s manner being a perfect match for her straightforwardness.
“I’m just offering. Text me if you change your mind,” he replies, his tone softening.
“Okay. What did your coach have to talk to you about last night?” I ask, shifting the conversation.
“He heard that Maxton had planned to frame you, and apparently Mr. Porter called Humphries to tell him that I was causing his son problems. I’m hoping the dean expels him, but I’m not holding my breath,” he scoffs, frustration evident in his voice.
“You might not look good with a blue face,” I tease, trying to lighten the mood, and he cracks a smile.
“Maybe not. Unless you have a smurf fetish,” he retorts, and I grimace, shaking my head.
My mission is clear: I want to see him laugh more.
“Goodnight, Easton,” I say softly.
“Goodnight, sweetness. Don’t dream about smurfs.”
At precisely 9:30, a sharp knock echoes through my apartment. “Hey! Cole, I have a surprise for you on my table!” The excitement in his voice is palpable as he rushes toward the source of his delight, hugging my leg before darting off.
“Daddy, it’s a magnet book about superheroes!” His little voice bursts with joy, a sound that fills the room with warmth.
“Awesome,” Easton replies, a small smile playing on his lips. “I think he’ll toss me over for you.” There’s a hint of playful jealousy in his tone, but I can see the genuine affection he has for Cole.
“No way! Cole thinks you created the world. Come sit.” My heart races as I invite him to join me. I’m anxious, fiddling with my nails as I take a seat across from him on the couch.
Easton’s fingers find mine, wrapping around my thumbs as if to ground me. “Luci, it’s okay,” he reassures me, his voice steady and calming.
I nod, feeling the weight of my past pressing down on me. “Cole knows part of this story, but not all the details,” I begin, my voice trembling slightly. “When I was three, my parents were killed in a car crash on New Year’s Eve.” I feel Easton’s grip tighten as I continue. “A woman named Harriet Albers got extremely drunk and escaped the bartender who tried to take her keys. She was going seventy down the road near our house. I was at home with our neighbor while my parents attended my dad’s company holiday party. It started storming about fifteen minutes before the crash, so the roads were slick. She hit them head-on and flipped their car. They died instantly.” I pause, letting the weight of my words settle. “I went into the system after that. Foster care until I aged out of it. I bounced around about six homes from the age of three until I was a little over eight. That’s when I was moved to Janet Granger’s house. When my social worker, Collins, dropped me off, he said he knew I’d be happy there. I didn’t believe him at the time after some of the places I had seen. I lived with Janet for almost ten years. She’s a single nurse. Her husband left her because she couldn’t have kids, so she decided to foster instead.”
Easton sits there, stunned into silence. “F**k, Luci,” he breathes out, pulling me into his lap. The warmth of his body envelops me, providing a rare comfort that washes over me. “I had no idea, sweetness.” He looks down at me, concern etched across his features. “You had no other family?”
I pull back slightly, my heart heavy as I think of Cole. “My parents were older when they had me, and my mom lost her parents when she was in high school. My paternal grandmother was a single parent, and she passed away when I was just a year old. My dad had a sister, Marlena. She is or was a single mom of two girls. They notified her because she was their only living relative. She lives in Connecticut. She told them she’d take me if my parents had left any life insurance to help her raise me. But she was struggling to make ends meet for her kids and didn’t want to add another mouth to feed. They didn’t leave anything more than enough to pay for their burials. Apparently, my parents were not great with money.”
Easton’s eyes widen in realization. “That’s why you got so emotional about Becker and Kingston’s story.”
“Yes,” I admit, feeling a lump form in my throat. “I’m glad they had a loving family to take them in. I don’t blame my aunt. She already had two kids she could barely feed and clothe. I haven’t heard from her either.”
He leans forward, his brow furrowing with concern. “What about the woman who killed your parents? What happened to her?”
“She got the maximum sentence because it wasn’t her first offense. It was the first time she took a life, though. Twenty years in prison with no parole. She gets out next year.” I raise my head, locking eyes with Easton. “Sydney is the only other person who knows this part. She writes me a letter every year since I was fourteen, apologizing for taking my parents and sharing little things about herself. I’ve never written her back because I can’t. The fact that she spent the last nineteen years clothed, fed, and given anything she needs while I lost everything is a bitter pill to swallow. I forgave her. She’s gotten clean and earned a degree. She hopes to help people with addictions like herself. I’ve tried, but I just can’t write her.”
“Dammit, Luci. Come here.” He pulls me closer, holding me against his chest. “You have every right to be bitter and angry with her, sweetness. And she shouldn’t expect a damn word from you, much less forgiveness. You have a heart like no one I’ve ever met. Did Cole know?”
I keep my head against him but tilt my face up to meet his gaze. “I told him they died and that Janet took care of me. It was an age-appropriate answer for him.”
“Janet is like your mom then? Or are you not that close?” he asks cautiously, probing gently.
“She’s the closest thing I had to a mom growing up. Janet is very… blunt and not big on flowery words or gestures. I mean, she always took care of the important stuff, but she had lots of kids with issues bigger than mine. She made sure I had every trick or therapy to help with my ADHD. Betsy, another girl my age with the same social worker, and I lived with her the longest, so we all visit when we can.”
I glance at the clock, feeling a sense of urgency. “We should go.”
Easton gives me a long, assessing look before simply nodding and telling Cole that it’s time to leave.
Janet and I are meeting at her favorite Tex-Mex restaurant. I spot her shortly after we walk inside. I wave as we approach the tall, thin woman with auburn hair, cut in her usual flattering pixie style. Her sharp light green eyes sweep over the three of us, taking in our presence. After embracing me, I point to my guests.
“Janet, this is Cole, who I told you about.” He beams up at her, saying “hi” before returning to his magnet book. She smiles softly at him, her expression warm. I then indicate the blonde giant hovering over me. “And this is Easton, ummm…” I hesitate, realizing we hadn’t discussed whether it was okay to reveal that Cole is his son. He interjects, holding out his hand, “Cole’s father and Luci’s boyfriend.” I gawk at him, surprised, while his lips only twitch with amusement as he shakes Janet’s hand.
“Luci’s been keeping things from me,” Janet says, her eyes darting between us, a teasing glint in her gaze.
“It’s a very recent development, Miss Granger. Only three days,” Easton replies smoothly.
“Call me Janet, Easton. I’m going to grab an extra kids’ packet. This one is missing the crayons.” She walks away, and Easton gently grips my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze.