“So let me get this straight. Your dad pretty much ripped the skin off Oakley’s back cause he wants to play pro?” Tyler asks, seemingly gobsmacked as we come close to the end of our four-hour drive to Penticton.

“Pretty much. Talk about a great first impression.”

I tried to ignore Dad the next morning, but I was cornered on my way out of the house.

He demanded we sit down and talk, looking more stern than I’m used to. He wouldn’t take no for an answer, so I caved and decided to let him speak. Already pissed, I only got more annoyed when he used the whole ‘just-looking-out-for-me’ speech as his apology.

I rolled my eyes, crossed my arms and let his words go in one ear and straight out the other. Not wanting to argue, I nodded my head and said goodbye. He was utterly unfair the night before, and if I’m honest, seriously embarrassing too. A simple apology to me isn’t going to be enough.

“That’s rough. How did Oakley take it? I would have been pretty pissed.” Tyler shrugs his shoulders, his eyes glued firmly on the road.

“He played it off for my benefit. We haven’t had a chance to sit down and talk about the whole pro-league thing since,” I state with a sigh.

Hopefully, that will change tonight.

There are so many unknowns in our relationship hanging over my head, taunting me day and night. The biggest one being, what do we plan on doing if he does get drafted early? Just sit and hope for the best? Every inch of me needs to have answers, and it pains me that I don’t have them.

Are we setting ourselves up for failure? Can we even make this work when I’m stuck here and he’s all over North America? Surrounded by beautiful women at that.

Will we crash and burn like a tragic love story? Everything in my brain is screaming at me to run away before things get messy—and most importantly, I get hurt again.

I swore I wouldn’t give anybody the power to break me ever again, but I did. Oakley can’t just break me. He can destroy me.

 

 

We pull up outside Oakley’s house shortly after noon. I can feel my heart contract as I study the house in front of me. You can almost feel the love radiating through the front door.

“Ready to head in?” Tyler’s powerful, gruff voice cuts through the comfortable silence.

I open the car door and step out into the freezing October air. Luckily, I decided to dress weather appropriate and have quite the cute look going on with Morgan’s help. Much to her despair, I went for a simple outfit; a loose blush blouse and dark skinny jeans. It’s perfect.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Tyler snorts and falls into step beside me as we walk up the steep sidewalk. When we reach the front door, Tyler raps on the door three times to announce our arrival.

After a few seconds the door flies open, revealing an extraordinarily handsome Oakley. Dressed in a black button-down and a pair of very tight dark wash jeans, he looks good enough to eat. His usual cap covered messy hair has been trimmed and slicked back, and don’t get me started on the beard that now covers the lower half of his face.

“Hey, baby. You look gorgeous,” I hear him say with a strong sense of approval.

I drag my eyes away from his gorgeous body and up to his even prettier eyes. They glimmer with happiness, and I can’t help but smile.

“Hi,” I squeak, wishing Tyler wasn’t standing beside me so I could pounce on my man.

As if on cue, Tyler scoffs, “Hello? I’m literally right here.”

Oakley smirks and opens up the door wider so Tyler and I can make our way inside.

“Hey, buddy. Glad you could make it.”

“Thanks for having me. I don’t remember the last time I was in a house that felt so warm.”

I look for the hidden sadness in his words, but don’t find any.

“Where’s that lovely mother of yours? I was promised quite the feast,” I tease, hoping my comment will bring back the playful banter from before.

“And a feast you will get, my dear. Oh, don’t you look beautiful!” Anne exclaims, bustling into the entryway. An apron is tied around her neck, over her dress. Written across the front of the apron is World’s Best Mom. It fits her perfectly.

I beam at her. “So do you! I love your dress!”

The black dress comes to a stop a few inches above her ankles, and beautiful yellow daisies are splattered across the silky material.

“Oh, no need to flatter me. I already like you,” she grins before turning her attention over to Tyler.

“And you must be the infamous Tyler that Gracie won’t stop talking ab—” she trails off when her very annoyed teenage daughter storms into the room, her boyfriend hot on her heels.

“Mom!” Gracie shrieks, hands on her hips. Her cheeks are already turning bright pink.

“I mean, Oakley has told me so much about you,” Anne corrects herself, wearing a sly smile.

A wide-eyed Tyler just lets out an uncomfortable laugh as he quickly eyes up a very embarrassed Gracie.

“Hey, Gracie, why don’t you give me a tour of the house?” I pipe up. Oakley opens his mouth to protest, earning himself a glare. “You don’t mind, do you, babe? I’m sure Jacob would love to hear about your team.”

He gulps. “Right, yeah. Go ahead,”

“Perfect! Let’s go.” I link my arm through Gracie’s and pull her away from the uncomfortable situation her mother unwittingly created.

“You’re seriously a lifesaver,” Gracie breathes when we make it to the back of the cozy home. The smell of turkey roasting in the oven wafts over us, reminding me of my mom’s fantastic cooking.

Gracie and I hurry past a honey-coloured wall decorated with countless pictures. Each one is placed perfectly beside the other—not a

single out of place—years worth of memories, proudly on display for everyone to see. A picture of little Oakley ice skating makes me smile. Oakley was just as adorable when he was a kid as he is now.

“Don’t worry. In a few minutes, Tyler won’t even remember what your mom said,” I assure her hurriedly.

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” she mumbles.

I can’t help but feel her pain. Being a teenage girl and crushing on an older guy they know they can’t have isn’t easy. What girl hasn’t been there? According to Oakley, she’s been fantasizing over Tyler since the first team practice she watched almost six months ago.

“Tell me about that boyfriend of yours. You’re into blonde’s, hey?” I smile to myself as her frown turns into a cheeky grin. “He’s good looking,”

“I guess I am.” Her usual giddy attitude returns and when she giggles, I give myself a mental pat on the back. “And I know, believe me.”