Page 21 of My Puckin' Luck
“Seriously fun. I’ve seen the size of Saint’s arms, and I’m guessing the rest of him follows. Go for it, Anastasia,” Nana says,as she sits and knits between us. Misty and I share a look and chuckle, by now used to Nana’s way with words when it comes to “her hockey boys” as she calls them.
After Storm and Misty got together, she became the team’s unofficial grandmother, making it her mission to deliver cookies to them in person once a week after a practice. The guys can be found huddled around her in conversation, talking about their life or girl problems. She gives them advice and hands them a cookie or two. They love her, and even awarded her a “Property of the Puckers” sweatshirt all her own, which she’s wearing now under the Denver Aspens jersey.
The Puckers sweatshirt is usually reserved for wives and girlfriends and family. Duke, Beau, Tucker, Storm, and Big D all gave similar sweatshirts to theirs. I’m the only one without it in our friend group.
I sneak a peek over my shoulder to where Saint sits up the aisle, chatting with some old hockey buddies he ran into. He catches me looking and winks with a sly smile and nod that could charm the panties right off of me, the new hot pink lacy ones he bought me. His look tells me with all confidence he knows we’re talking about him. I’ve been dying to tell Misty everything, so yes, his temporary absence not sitting with us is handy.
I give in, my shoulders loosening. “I’m sure tumbling into bed with him would be the single greatest night of my life. Lord knows it has been a dry year for me.”
“Don’t even talk to me about dry years, honey,” Nana quips, sharp as a tack.
I shrug. “But what if it’s more? If my heart catches on, he’s had so many other women. How do I know I’ll be able to keep him hooked on me for the long term?” My old Daddy abandonment issue rears it’s head.
“You won’t know until you jump in, dear. That’s half the fun of it, isn’t it? If you had a crystal ball and knew what would happen, it would get quite boring, in my opinion.” She leaps up suddenly and yells, scaring me half to death, causing me to drop our popcorn tub to the floor. “Yeah. Atta boy, Stormy!”
She and Misty high five in the air for the big save Storm made in the net, and I missed it. Some hockey fan I am right now, so wrapped up in my own spiraling life.
You’d never know by how Nana settles back into her seat, knitting away, that she’s become a diehard hockey fan, too, thanks to Misty and Storm’s union. How she keeps track of her rows of knitting and of the game at the same time is beyond me, considering how fast the puck moves.
“My apartment won’t be ready to move back in for at least a month, maybe more, my insurance agent said. I doubt I can resist Saint the entire time,” I lament.
“So don’t,” Misty argues.
I stew about it over and over, chewing my cheek. “No. I just don’t think I can risk my heart when it comes to Saint.”
“My money is riding on him figuring out you’re the one and you two living happily ever after,” Nana blurts, and Misty elbows her ribs. I don’t miss the move.
“Wait. Do you all have a bet about us?” I stare through slits at my bestie. I suspect so, because Nana was in on a bet with the other grannies in her building when it came to Misty and Storm.
“It wasn’t my idea, but Storm’s. And don’t worry, Saint knows nothing about it,” Misty assures me, then she turns from the game during a timeout, and places all her focus on me. “Why are you so negative lately? I seem to recall when Storm and I first met, you were so full of hope for us and for yourself. You even had those affirmations about finding love that you swore would work. Whatever happened to those?”
“I gave up on them last year, after the umpteenth disappointing date, remember? Besides, they’re currently buried under the debris and water somewhere in my bedroom.” I never got back into the habit of using them again. I lost hope, thinking every man I date will abandon me like my father. “Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that I ran into my sperm donor at the costume ball.”
“What?” Misty’s eyes go wide, and she’s on the edge of her seat. “That’s a pretty big detail to have left out. What did he say to you?”
“He said hi. That’s it.” I mutter and chew a nail, refusing to shed a tear about it now.
“Oh, honey.” Nana sets down her knitting long enough to wrap an arm around me for a quick squeeze. “Karma is coming for that man, don’t you worry.”
“You’re triggered,” Misty explains and points, like she’s giving a professional diagnosis. “Seeing him again is blocking you from opening yourself up to possibilities. You think if Saint falls for you, he’ll leave you like your dad did.”
“Thanks for that analysis.”
Misty glares. “Tell me it’s not true, then.”
I can’t. “I know you’re right.”
“Damn straight. Now, stop it. Saint won’t have a chance to be your forever-man if you project your past onto him.”
Misty turns back to the game, and I get in my head about things. I need to find hope once more that the man I deserve is out there for me and won’t leave me when I find him. Could it be Saint?
Another peek at him, and I see he’s still shooting the breeze with some other players. Storm must make another big save, and they’re all on their feet clapping and whooping, just like the two women next to me, going crazy over it. I’m just not into the game tonight, which is odd for me.
“I think I’ll hit the restroom before this period is over.” I stand. “A walk would do me good.”
“Oh, be a sweetheart and get me one of those meat on a stick things,” Nana begs.
“They’re called colossal corn dogs, Nana. And me, too.” Misty pleads.
