Page 67 of Just My Puck
“My name is Dawn Russell. I’m from Indiana, and I had just moved to New York to work as an assistant in an insurance firm. My way of starting over after being laid off from yet another crappy job—although things didn’t exactly go as planned. When I arrived for my first day at work, they told me the CEO had just left with the company’s money. So, yeah, no job for me.”
I blink back at her. “Wow.”
“And the night we met was only my second in New York. That’s why nothing felt familiar. I had rented a crappy studio apartment, but believe it or not, the thing went up in flames while I was at the firm.”
My mind is whirling at these revelations. “This is—wow. So, all your things were lost in the fire?”
She sighs. “Yep. Even my weighted blanket—don’t ask. Not that I had much, but still. The only thing left to my name was the pair of hockey tickets I’d won. That’s why I went to the game. It was a way to escape my reality for a night, and enjoy the complimentary food in the VIP suite.”
“What about your purse? Your ID?”
“Someone stole it as I was coming to the game.” She shakes her head. “I know how this all sounds, and frankly, I’m not sure I’d believe it myself if I didn’t know for a fact it was true.”
“No, I believe you,” I say, placing my hand on her arm. “It’s a crazy story, but I trust you completely.”
“I guess it’s too far-fetched to be fake, right?” she says with a chuckle.
“What about your family?” Herstory is eye-opening, but that’s the part I’m most curious about.
She clears her throat. “I don’t have a family. My mom, who adopted me when I was a baby, passed away when I was nine, and I was tossed into the foster system after that.” She pauses, her eyes downcast. “It’s actually why I came here in the first place. She was a fan of Broadway musicals, and she always said she’d take me to New York for graduation. I wanted to honor her memory, so I started applying for jobs here.”
My throat goes dry. “And you . . . have no other family?”
“No. My mom had no siblings or family of her own, and she was working as a nurse when she found me. She called me her little miracle, actually.”
“What was her name?”
Aria smiles, but it’s one of those bittersweet smiles, and I suddenly wish I hadn’t asked. She lifts her eyes until they meet mine. “It was Lily.”
“Oh,” I whisper. Everything makes sense now.
“And she wore a lily perfume.”
“I’m sorry she passed,” I say, taking Aria’s hand. It would be hard enough to lose a parent. Having to relive that loss is just cruel.
“Thank you.” She closes her eyes for an instant. “All the feelings I had about my new life being better than my old one were true. Forgetting my past and reinventing myself was a gift, Caleb. I’ve never been this happy.”
I squeeze her hand and move closer. “I’m so sorry; you’ve been through so much. I wish I could take all your pain away. You don’t deserve to carry that with you.”
She rests her head on my shoulder, and I caress her hair.
“A lot of things make sense now,” she murmurs. “My mom bought the same throw that your parents have on their couch, and I was always allergic to jasmine, the perfume your mom was wearing on Christmas.”
“I don’t mean to pry,” I say. “But I have to confirm. You don’t have a boyfriend or husband, do you?”
She lets out a light chuckle and sits up straight. “No. Actually, I’ve never had a boyfriend before. You were my first kiss.”
My eyes widen. “How is it possible that no one ever kissed you?” I ask, dragging the back of my finger over her lips. “You’re the sweetest girl I’ve ever met. I’ve been wanting to kiss you since the night we met.”
Her lips curl into a bright smile, and I’m glad I was able to bring her a hint of comfort. She gives a small shrug. “Honestly, I’ve been unlucky my entire life. Friends and boyfriends got hurt, I was accident-prone, I always landed crappy jobs.” She winces. “Do you know that meme, Bad Luck Girl? That was me.”
I frown, trying to remember. “Idon’t think so.”
“Well, I’ll show you later.” She shakes her head. “The point is, my entire life was like being trapped in a hamster wheel, dying to break out of the endless cycle, but not being able to.” Her eyes hold mine. “Until you came along. You changed me, gave me a new outlook on life, and my luck started to turn.”
I open my mouth, but she continues.
“I know it’s a lot to process. I mean, your girlfriend has a new identity and zero pennies to her name—told you I didn’t feel rich.” The words tumble out faster now, her pitch rising. “So, I get it if you need time to process this and decide whether you still want to be with me. Truly, I understand.”
