Page 60 of The Captain

I could have told him.

I probably should have told him.

“It is, though.” She rubs her forehead. “If I’d known you two were together…I…”

“We weren’t even close to together when you told me about you and Tanner, Mickey. Don’t blame yourself.”

“Still, I’m sorry.”

I shrug. “I could have told him. But he also didn’t have to react the way he did.”

“Well, now what?” Vic asks, twisting her straw wrapper around her finger. “Are you guys speaking again?”

I shake my head. “Here and there. He’s…wanting to reconcile.” I think about how bummed he sounded when I texted him that Saturday dinner was canceled, George having caught the flu. I also shoved aside my disappointment and told myself that I was happy that I didn’t have to sit through it. “He’s apologizing. But I’m just not sure what to do.”

Mick stares at me for a minute, and as much as it unnerves me, I let her gather her thoughts. “You love him.”

Tears well in my eyes, and I keep my gaze down on my lap, but I nod my head slightly, wiping away a tear. “Yeah.”

“Oh, babe,” Vic says, reaching across the table for my hand, and I let her take it. “You can love him.”

I glance up at her. “What do you mean?”

“Guys fuck up. It’s in their nature to do so, but it’s the way they act after that matters,” she states, sounding way too wise for, well, Vic’s normal. “He’s been trying to clean up his act, to show Mick that he’s supportive of her and Tanner, to show you he’s not fucking around with anyone, and he’s focused on his future. He’s trying, and because he’s not being a little bitch about it, it shows that he loves you, too.”

I laugh lightly at her words. Leave it to Victoria to say something so profound in just her way.

“I don’t know what to do.”

Mick smiles slightly at me. “Well, give it time. There’s no reason to rush things, but can I ask you something?”

“What?”

“Well.” She clears her throat. “Lincoln plans to have a future in hockey, that means wherever he gets picked up, he’ll have to move there. He won’t have choices, if he gets moved around, that’ll be where he goes. Is that something you can handle?”

I see that this is more Mick, Lincoln’s big sister, asking, not Mick, my best friend. I swallow hard and think about how I’ve always wanted to leave Rose Hill, not because I hate it but because it’s all I’ve ever known, and I look back at her. “Yes. I’m a writer. I can go anywhere.”

Mick smiles and nods her head. “I was hoping you would say that, because it would be so fucking cool to have you be my sister.”

After lunch, I head home feeling lighter than I have in a while. It shows me that I should have talked everything through with my friends a lot sooner, drama or not.

The conversation about me loving Lincoln lingers with me, and I feel myself fighting the urge to pick up the phone and call him. I want to, badly. He was one of the only people I’ve ever felt myself around.

However, another piece of lunch, where I declared to my friends I was a writer and finally told them all about my book—to which they both demanded copies—I finally feel like it’s time to take the next step in my journey as an author.

I’ve stared and stared at my submission letter, hesitating in sending it so that I didn’t have to feel the sting of rejection that was sure to come from starting this process.

Then, I let myself imagine holding a copy of my book, of signing it for someone someday, of writing another and another, and I press send, finding all the emails of the agents I’ve researched and keep sending until I’ve made it through all of them.

This was it.

The next step.

I was finally doing something for myself, and even though I know deep down I should have started a lot sooner, I was glad it was now. I was glad I had something to focus on other than my love life being in complete shambles.

My eyes drift to my phone, and I grab for it, finding his name and letting my thumb hesitate over it before I lock my phone and put it down again.

I run a hand over my hair in frustration.

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