Page 69 of The Puckable Playbook

“That’s how I know.”

Len’s quiet for a moment, and I don’t push her. Eventually, she says, “When it was all over, I saw what she was from the very beginning, but I didn’t see it at the time. She was always getting mad when I would get mad. She had this way of wording things so that I would apologize when I was the one who really deserved an ‘I’m sorry.’

“I think she even told me to change out of the dress so you’d see her and not me, and honestly, it was probably for the best. Ifthe two of us were standing right next to each other, who would look at me? Even if I’d kept the dress on, it was only a façade. The next day, you would’ve run screaming.”

“Give me a little credit.”

She shrugs. “I know where I stand.”

My hands turn to fists. No one will talk down to Lenore on my watch. Not even herself. “The only thing you lack is confidence. You’re beautiful, Len. You not only hold up to Trish, you blow her out of the water—inside and out.”

Blinking at me, she parts her lips. I can tell she’s thinking about what I said, but not believing it. Guess I know what my next task is.

“By the way, she didn’t have everyone fooled. My family disliked her from the beginning.”

“They did? They like me.”

“Like is an understatement. They love you, sweetie.”

She sits back, leaning against the armrest and slipping her toes under my thighs. “After what happened between us, I should’ve told you right away. But I had the revelation about Clark and Trish, and I’ve been—” She shrugs.

“None of this is your fault.”

“It must be,” she whispers. “There’s something about me that doesn’t see through bullshit. I can’t trust myself.”

“Well, you made progress today. You told Clark off. That’s a great start. You could contact Trish and tell her off, too.” The way she looks at me tells me that’s the last thing she wants to do, so I pivot. “Or… Okay, don’t laugh. When I was a kid, I had anger issues. My mom would sit me down and tell me to write a letter to get it out. On a side note, I have really good penmanship now.”

Len presses her lips together, amusement dancing in her eyes. “Did you ever give the letters to the person?”

“No, they were for me. It was a way of feeling it and letting it go. You love to write, so write Trish a note. Get everything out.Everything.Even all those one-liners you came up with after the fact. You’ll feel so much better.”

She taps her chin. “I like that idea. I think I will do that.”

“Then, maybe we can play hockey?”

Her cheeks flame. “Um, what now?”

I beam at her. “My parents also put me in hockey because I was aggressive. The doctor thought I had too much energy.”

Instead of making fun of me like I expect, Lenore grows quiet. “Speaking of that…” She runs her hands through her hair. “There’s something else I have to tell you.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Len

Most people wouldn’t carewho my dad was, but to not tell Zaiah would’ve been a chink in our armor. If there is an us.

God, I want there to be an us.

I step out of the car, and he rushes over with an umbrella so I’m not pelted by the cold rain. The arena lights reflect in the puddles as we rush past the parking attendant, laughing when the water splashes up our legs.

“Where are we going again?”

“Will call,” I shriek, and a car passes in front of us. We narrowly avoid being doused head to toe in water. “Holy shit.”

“Close one.” He places his hand on the small of my back and leads me across the now-clear road as we head toward the main entrance. A bunch of others have shown up last minute and are doing the same. We trudge along behind them and end up under a cement roof so Zaiah can finally lower the umbrella.

“Thank you,” I tell him.

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