Page 70 of Lucky
I don’t fall asleep right away, but Winnie drifts off fast.After about fifteen minutes, I ease out from under her and she rolls onto her stomach.I nab my phone from my pants pocket and pull up TikTok.I open Winnie’s profile and don’t bother watching her last video again, instead going straight to the comments.
I settle back down against the pillows, angling slightly away from her so the light doesn’t wake her up.
@icequeenxo:She’s clearly not built for this world.Crying in a bathroom?Embarrassing.Weak.
I consider the words, trying to tell myself to be nice.And then I respond.
@LuckyBranson:You’re entitled to your opinion, but here’s mine—Winnie’s the strongest person I know.Vulnerability isn’t weakness.It’s honesty.And I’ll take real over perfect any day.
I post it and move on to the next comment.
CHAPTER 22
Winnie
Lucky opens mydoor for me and offers his hand as I slide out of his Tahoe.There’s not a doubt in my mind that my entire family is watching from the living room window, but I don’t look that way.
Instead, my gaze falls on my hand joined with his.He holds it with propriety as we turn for the sidewalk.His hand is warm in mine as we walk up the path to my parents’ front porch.The air is chilly, but thanks to the man standing next to me, it doesn’t bother me in the slightest.
He pretty much makes me warm all the time.
I’ve dated a lot.It’s true.
It’s also true that my standards are very particular.Not necessarily too high, but I seek safety in my choices.Normal is safe.Average is secure.
In all my dating history, I’ve never felt comfortable enough with someone to hold hands after only a few weeks.For me, it’s an intimate act, and yes, Lucky and I have been intimate in the closest of ways.But holding hands is more of a statement and I know my parents are analyzing it.
Just as I’m sure they’ve been trying to figure out why I asked if I could bring Lucky to dinner tonight.
That’s definitely something I don’t do when I’m casually dating because that has an even bigger message than holding hands.
Regardless, I know my mom has put together a narrative based on two simple observations—I want my family to meet Lucky, and we’re holding hands.
I’m not nervous though.At least, I keep telling myself that.But the truth is, this feels big.Bigger than a third date.Bigger than TikTok.Much, much bigger than dating a famous professional athlete who could probably have any woman he wants.
“Relax,” Lucky murmurs as we reach the door.“You’re squeezing my fingers like I owe you money.”
I glare at him.“You owe me emotional stability.That’s far more valuable.”
He smirks, leans in and kisses my cheek just as the door swings open.
“Hello!”my mom gushes, hands fluttering.“Come in, come in.I made extra rolls.”
“You told her I like bread?”Lucky whispers as we step inside.
“I told her you’re a carb-based life-form.”I chuckle and bump my shoulder against his.
The house smells like roast beef and lemon pie.My dad appears next, wiping his hands on a dish towel, looking equal parts thrilled and like he’s trying not to be.“Lucky.Dennis Shaw.Welcome.”
“Mr.Shaw,” Lucky says, shaking his hand firmly.“Thanks for having me.”
“Call me Dennis,” my dad replies, but he’s looking at Lucky like he’s seeing him in high-def for the first time.“Hell of a win last night.”
“You watched the game?”Lucky asks with a pleased smile.
“We all did,” says a voice from the living room, and Eli joins us.He’s already got a beer in hand and a smirk on his face.“You notched a point and finished plus-two.Not bad.Want a beer?”
Lucky chuckles.“Appreciate that, and sure… a beer would be great.”
