Page 135 of My Lucky Charm

Gray

Distance is my friend.

We’re driving to St. Louis for tonight’s game, and I’m glad it’s only one night in a hotel away from Scarlett, but I could stand to take a few more away from Eloise.

She packed a bag for me the night before, and by the time I walk out of my apartment, I’m up to my neck in visual reminders of her.

The way she folded my socks. The way she bought reusable travel bottles and filled them with my shampoo and body wash. The way she stuck a sticky note inside my wallet that said: You’ve got nothing to prove.

What made her choose those particular words? And why am I having a hard time ignoring them?

Eloise challenges everything I think. About the game, about my perspective of it, about my life . . . and the holes in it.

I can’t bring myself to believe that the thing that’s really been missing in my game—in my life—is rest. And relationships. Friendships. Love.

I scoff at the thought of it. Nobody is talking about love here.

I get through the warm-ups, and Burke must sense that something is off, because as we head back to the locker room, he falls into step beside me.

“You good?”

“I’m good.” Or I will be as soon as I get my head screwed back on. See? This is all a big, fat distraction.

We walk into the locker room, and as the guys start their pre-game rituals, I go straight for my phone. I pull it out and find a photo from Eloise. It’s a selfie of her and Scarlett, who is holding a giant bowl of ice cream and grinning.

Eloise looks like a beautiful psychopath.

I love it.

They’re both wearing Comets’ jerseys, and underneath the photo are the words:

Eloise

Good luck! We’re cheering for you!

I think back to the little nuggets of wisdom Eloise has been dropping. She said that hockey isn’t who I am, it’s just what I do. She said that distractions might actually help me. She said maybe I need (deserve?) to rest.

It’s all in direct opposition to the way I’ve lived my entire life.

How do I reconcile that?

Gray

Are you eating ice cream for dinner?

Eloise

I promise, I made her eat real food first.

We had burgers on the grill.

And what the heck are you doing texting me?! You have a game!

Gray

Burgers in February?

And I’ll be OK, we’re getting ready to start

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