Page 32 of Secret Pucking Unicorn

“Looking for your heart. It’s on one of those sleeves. Dude, I didn’t realize what you were telling me earlier. I get it now.” He holds out his hand for me to shake, and I take it. “Good luck. She deserves to be happy. So do you.”

15

MIRANDA

I take a sip of champagne and close my eyes as it slides down my throat. It’s lovely.

“I assume you didn’t have champagne when you were getting ready for prom?” Kendall says from the pedicure chair next to me. We are at the spa at Devil’s Den, getting primped and polished for the party tonight. Turns out it’s more than a simple party. It’s a gala. Season ticket holders and community leaders will be attending, eager to mingle with the players.

“No. I didn’t have friends to share it with, either.”

She looks at me in confusion. “What do you mean?”

I look at my glass, wondering if it was high octane because I’m sharing things I never do. I’ve spoken more about my past this week than I ever have. I know it’s not the champagne—it’s Declan. Most of my life has been in separate parts—the real me Declan knows and the curated version of me I show everyone else—and now they are melding together. I want to stay here and be able to trust the relationships I’m building are true. For that to happen, I have to lower my defenses and let people in. I have to risk getting hurt and it petrifies me.

“I didn’t have friends. Anywhere. You were the first friend I had since Declan and Sophie when I was a little girl. I hated school.” I blink rapidly to hold back the tears.

Kendall smiles kindly at our attendants. “Can you give us a few minutes, please?”

I watch them walk away, grateful for Kendall’s request. I’m not comfortable talking about this at all, let alone in front of strangers.

“You know I’ve learned more about you this past week than I did in four years of living together? Was I self-centered and didn’t ask? Did I make you feel like you couldn’t share? I’m sorry.”

“Oh, Kennie, no. You did nothing wrong. I don’t talk about my past because I don’t want to make people feel bad for me. And I don’t want to let people know how screwed up I am. I don’t know why no one wanted to be my friend. I tried. I think I’m a nice person.”

“You are,” Kendall assures me.

“I was incredibly lonely,” I whisper. “The first school in England, everyone pretended they couldn’t understand me because my Irish accent was too strong. I was ten and alone. Being without my parents wasn’t anything new, but I didn’t have Declan or Sophie. I spent all my time in the barn with the horses and made the equestrian team. I used to ride. I loved it. My dream was to go to the Olympics. The day before my first competition, my parents pulled me out of school and sent me to a German immersion school in Portugal.”

I stretch out my leg. “This fair Irish skin wasn’t used to the Portuguese sun.”

“Oh, honey.” Kendall rests her hand on my arm. It feels good. Kennie is a toucher and until we roomed together at college, I hadn’t realized how deprived I’d been of simple human contact. I loved cheering and dancing with Trevor because I was touching someone. Not in any kind of sexual or romantic way, of course, just basic human contact and connection.

“Prom night was the first time I’d been hugged out of my hockey gear in eight years.” It feels shameful to admit that. “You know hockey hugs after goals are a thing?”

Kendall nods.

I swallow hard. “I’d get them when I scored, but they weren’t personal. Declan hugging me when he saw me before prom was the first genuine hug I’d had since he hugged me when I left Ireland for boarding school.”

“How are you not a sociopath?” she asks.

Her question startles a laugh out of me. “What?”

“There are studies where children who have been deprived of affection and stability like you were often grow up to be sociopaths and serial killers and generally horrible people. And you’re not. It’s amazing.”

“Are we sure I’m not?”

“Did you have friends in New Zealand? Were you happy there?”

I look across the spa where Brick and Teagan are getting facials, thinking about how to answer.

“I had people I was friendly with,” I answer slowly. “People seemed to like me, but I was more aloof. I knew I wasn’t staying, so there was no point in getting attached. I enjoyed being there. It’s beautiful, but it wasn’t going to be my home. I learned a lot I hope to use here.”

I wiggle my toes. I don’t want to talk about this anymore. This is a day to be happy and thinking about my past makes me sad. I don’t want those shadows intruding on the light of today. The new year is about me finding my home, my tribe. The past can stay there.

“Should we call the attendants back? What color polish are you picking?” I ask.

* * *

---