Lighting the Lamp (Chicago Velocity Book 1)

by Abby Burch

  I close my eyes for only a few moments before someone starts knocking on the window of my car. Frustrated, I open my eyes, and bolt upright when I see that it's Morgan. I roll down the window. “Brenna just called Carly. She's okay.”

  I quickly jump out of my car, not even bothering to roll the window back up. “Where is she?” I'm walking down the block toward the house so quickly that Morgan has to nearly run to keep up with my steps.

  “We don't know. She wouldn't say.”

  The door of the house flings open before I even reach it and I see John there, looking worn out but relieved. I push past him and find Carly standing in the kitchen, staring at her phone.

  “Where is she?” I ask her before I even reach her.

  “She won't tell me,” she sighs. “She said she's okay, but she wants to be alone right now.”

  A flash of white-hot anger tears through me. “I don't know what that fucker did to her but I will kick his ass.”

  John puts his hand on my shoulder, temporarily grounding me. “She also told Carly that she needs space... from you, Ryan.”

  I spin around to face John. Morgan is standing behind him. “From me? Why?”

  “We don't know,” he says.

  “Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I think I know why,” Morgan says from behind me. We all turn to her and she's holding out her phone. On the screen are three photos. The first is Brenna at Two Bits, with a guy standing behind her. It must be Ashton, because the next photo is the two of them crossing the street.

  The third photo is Brenna and Ashton, lips locked, in front of the Willis Tower.

  The rock in my stomach drops through the floor.

  Carly cuts the silence with a defeated sigh. “Brenna didn't tell me much except that she wants to come home, but she won't if Ryan is here.”

  “I don't understand any of this,” I say, looking at each of them for answers. “What the hell is going on?”

  “Brenna is... she's different than most,” says Carly. “I think she needs to process whatever happened tonight, and handle it in her own Brenna way. She'll come around, Ryan. She always does, eventually. She just needs time.”

  My throat is tight. “I guess I don't really have much of a choice then, do I?” A stale laugh dies on my lips. “I'm going to go.” John and Morgan move out of the way so I can get past them to the front door. I pause before I pull it open, and look over my shoulder, and say softly, “Please tell Brenna that I love her... no matter what, I still love her.”

  I close the door behind me.

  27. Brenna

  One month later

  The night Ashton left me standing alone in the streets of downtown Chicago in the middle of the night, I was at my lowest point. Broken, I wandered the streets for several hours, letting my mind run – and run it did. I questioned everything about myself, my life, my goals, my friends, my relationships. All of it was up for questioning, consideration, and self-destruction.

  My heart was shattered. Around 4am, I ended up on top of the double-decker bridge on North Wells Street connecting The Loop to River North. The bottom of the bridge is for cars and pedestrians, and the top is for the L, Chicago's train system. It's one of those draw bridges that is split in the center and lifts up on each side to let big boats down the Chicago River. I climbed to the top of the impressive structure and walked along the tracks to the middle of the bridge. There, I sat on the edge, staring into the dark waters of the Chicago River moving beneath me from the famous reddish-orange trusses.

  If I would have jumped, it wouldn't have been a far enough fall to kill me.

  Even if it had, it wouldn't have solved anything. Ashton would have gotten away with what he's done to me over all these years, and I would have left a lot of people behind.

  Carly, John, Morgan, even Natalie...

  And Ryan.

  I eventually climbed down and wandered the streets, from River North to the Streeterville neighborhood and along the shore of Lake Michigan as the sun rose over the lake. I walked all the way to Lincoln Park. It took hours and my feet became giant, bloody blisters in my old Toms, but I was too broken to care.

  Sitting on a bench at the edge of the giant lake, watching the morning sunlight reflecting off the waves, I realized that I couldn't let this destroy me. The night had ended and the sun rose again. I needed to do the same.

  By the time I finally came out of my stupor, it was almost 10am. My phone had been dead for hours, so I bought a charger from a 24-hour convenience store and plugged it in at Starbucks. When it turned on, I had so many missed calls, texts and voicemails that it actually crashed my phone. After a couple restarts, I was finally able to call Carly and let her know I'd be home soon.

  When the Uber dropped me off an hour later, John, Carly, and Morgan all met me at the door. Their concern and love filled my heart and helped mend some of the damage I had taken that night.

  But I couldn't face Ryan. I was afraid of what I'd say to him, but even more afraid of what he'd say to me.

  I was sure Carly had filled him in at least a little of my history with Ashton, but I could only imagine what was going through his head when he found out his girlfriend had left the bar with her manipulative ex-boyfriend and then no one heard from her for twelve hours except for the paparazzi photos that ended up online of us kissing.

  Apparently Ryan had even jumped on a plane to come to Chicago after his game when he got the call that I was missing. I'm sure it was expensive, and made him look bad to the team, and he probably got no sleep because he was worrying about me.

  Stupid. I was so, so stupid to trust Ashton. I was foolish to even entertain the idea that I could receive answers or closure from him that night. I put myself into a bad situation, and I have to deal with the consequences of my actions.

  Through therapy, I've been learning that loving myself is most important, and loving others needs to be second. I've always put myself last and everyone else first, so now I am making an active effort to choose myself and my happiness over others. It's been a journey, but I'm learning to love who I am.

  And who I am loves Ryan Flynn.

  I just hope that, after everything I've put him through, he could still love me back.

  I'm getting ready to go to the Velocity's home game with Morgan tonight. Since I haven't spoken to Ryan in over a month, I can't exactly ask him if I can use one of his tickets, so Theresa gladly gave up her seat for me. I debate on if I should wear his jersey since we aren't together, and almost decide not to, but end up throwing it on at the last second. Wearing a jersey with his name and number on it makes me happy.

  Morgan picks me up and we head to the arena. She's chattering away as she drives, and I'm absently scrolling on my phone when suddenly, a message comes through from Carly. I click the link she's sent and my phone pulls up one of the hockey blogs I've seen before.

  The headline reads: Ryan Flynn's Biggest Secret – And It Isn't His Cheating Girlfriend!

  I read it off to Morgan. “Oh man,” she says. “You have to read the entire thing out loud.”

  I take a deep breath, and begin reading.

  Normally I brush off “information” that comes from anonymous sources, however this one is too interesting to not address.

  I received an email a couple weeks ago from an anonymous tipster stating they had information on Ryan Flynn's notoriously private personal life. Intrigued, I emailed back, and boy oh boy, did this source provide!

  According to this tipster, NHL playboy Ryan Flynn had an older brother.

  Yes, you read that right. Two Flynn boys! Apparently this older Flynn boy was quite the skater and would have likely been an NHL star just like his little bro. Unfortunately, Samuel Flynn passed away in 2003, when he was only 16 years old. Ryan would have been 12 at that time.

  I did some digging into the legitimacy of this claim. It took a bit of work, but sure enough, I was able to procure the obituary information for Samuel John Flynn.

  The article then has a
scanned image of an obituary from a newspaper. It's very straightforward, simply stating that Sam passed away unexpectedly, his surviving family, and the date and time of his memorial service.

  While looking for information on Samuel Flynn, I also turned up something else very interesting from Ryan's mysterious past: An obituary for his mother, Daisy Flynn, from five years ago, who died of a heart attack.

  I wonder why Ryan never mentions his dead brother or mother? Shame? Grief? Or something more?

  So there you have it, a bad boy with a mysterious past. Thanks to “A” for the tip on this one!

  Morgan and I are both silent for several seconds, absorbing what we've just learned.

  “Did you know...” she begins to ask me, trailing off.

  “No. I mean, not exactly,” I say. “I was, um, snooping one time, and I found a photo of him and Sam. I never had the right opportunity to ask him about it. He's never mentioned having a brother, or that his mom is dead.”

  “Holy shit, dude,” she says. I nod in agreement.

  As if me showing up at his game wouldn't be enough of a surprise, this information hitting the news is the topping on a shit-cake.

  Even worse, I know it was Ashton who sent in the info to that blog site. I haven’t been avoiding just Ryan, but also Ashton. It didn’t take much work for Ashton to figure out who my boyfriend was, and he’s been texting me non-stop ever since, calling me every degrading word in the dictionary. At the strong recommendation of Jane, I finally blocked his number for some reprieve. This must be his way to get to me… and Ryan.

  28. Ryan

  I'm just arriving at the arena when my phone starts to ring. I throw my bag down on the bench and pull my phone out of my pocket, and see that the caller is my father.

  “Hello?” I answer, confused as to why he'd be calling me.

  “Someone leaked to the press about your mother and Sam and now all the sports networks are calling here non-stop. Who the fuck did you tell?”

  My heart stops. “I didn't tell anyone!”

  “How the hell did some website find out then?” He’s slurring his words slightly, as usual.

  “I don't know, father” I run my free hand through my hair. This is not how I wanted this game day to go.

  He hangs up suddenly, probably off to drain another fifth and complain to the walls about me. I pace the locker room quickly, knowing that the rest of the team will start arriving any minute but needing to walk out some of the stress that just spiked inside me.

  I launch into my regular pre-game routine, resolving to deal with it all after the game. There's nothing I can do about any of it right now anyway.

  I glide out onto the ice to begin warmups. As is my normal pre-game ritual, I skate once around the entire arena before allowing myself to look up at my reserved seats – both sitting empty for my mother and brother who never had the chance to see me play in the NHL and never will.

  However when I look up into the stands tonight, I lock eyes with Brenna, who is sitting with Morgan next to my two empty seats. She gives me a shy smile and a small wave. My heart skips a beat and I nearly miss my next step. Nils pokes me in the back with his stick.

  “Quit daydreaming, Flynn,” he laughs.

  “Shut it, Larsson,” I poke him back.

  I haven't seen Brenna in weeks. It's been radio silence since the night Ashton showed up in town. I gave her a week to process before I started trying to get in touch with her. At first, my messages were very top-level concern. When she didn't respond, I began getting angry. I'd leave a voicemail yelling at her, and then immediately call back and apologize. After a while, Carly finally called me and told me to stop trying to talk to her. It was the wake up call I needed.

  So I walked away.

  Now she's here to watch my game. Is she here to watch me specifically, or just to hang out with Morgan? I fire one of the practice pucks into the net and skate around the back to the other side. I don't know what to think or how to feel. All I know is that the last four weeks without this woman in my life have been some of the longest, worst weeks of my entire life. I have been having to force myself to eat and I’ve barely slept at all. There have been opportunities to fuck a few puck bunnies while on the road but I haven’t even left the hotel room on our road game trips other than for the games themselves because all I can think about is Brenna.

  I miss her beyond words.

  I have to get through this game.

  We manage to scrape out a win, no thanks to me. I played like shit but I don't even care. I need to do damage control on the family situation, but first, I need to see Brenna.

  She's waiting in the family waiting area when I come out of the locker room after the game. It's as if I'm seeing her for the very first time. Her blonde hair falls in waves over her shoulders, longer than I remember. She looks healthy, strong, confident. She's wearing my jersey and my mind flashes back to the time she sucked my dick while wearing it. I push the memory out of my mind.

  “Hey Brenna,” I say, my guard up.

  “Hey Ryan,” she says softly. Her dark eyes search my face, tracking across me before settling on my mouth. I feel a smile pull at my lips.

  “Can we go talk somewhere?” I ask her. She nods. “We'll go out the back. I'd rather not face any of the reporters right now.”

  “You know about the article?” she asks, gathering her purse and coat from the chair next to Morgan.

  I wave bye to Morgan and head for the back door. “Yeah... That's part of what I need to talk to you about.”

  We head out into the night. The late October air has finally lost all traces of residual summer warmth, and Brenna pulls her jacket around herself a little tighter in the chilly breeze. I hold the car door open for her, shutting it once she's seated and head around the back of the car to get in.

  Once we are on the road headed toward my house, Brenna starts to speak. “Ryan, I need to apologize to you for what happened last month. I am so sorry for so many things, and it's taken me a while to forgive myself so that I'd be able to ask you for forgiveness as well.” She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “I'm sorry for disappearing with Ashton that night. It was a bad decision for me to leave with him at all, but to do it and not keep anyone in the loop was irresponsible.”

  The skyline begins to disappear into the distance behind us as she continues. “I'm sorry for falling for his mind tricks again. I don't know how or why, but I have always allowed Ashton to have this grip on my emotions and my life. My therapist is helping me to unravel his hold on me and move on from everything.”

  “Your therapist?” I ask her, sneaking a glance in her direction before changing lanes.

  “Yes. I started seeing Jane right after everything happened. She's been really great. I've always thought that I could face my struggles on my own, but Jane has been helping me learn that you can't always tackle everything on your own, and that it's okay to ask for help.”

  “That's so great, Brenna,” I tell her honestly. “I'm proud of you for taking steps to help yourself.”

  I see her smile out of the corner of my eye, her face illuminated in the street lights as we exit the freeway onto the smaller streets of the suburbs. “Thank you. It's been hard to open up to someone and come to terms with everything I've been through, especially with Ashton, but I can already tell it's paying off for me.” She clears her throat before taking a deep breath. “So that brings me to my next apology. Ryan, I am SO sorry for cutting you out of my life for the past month.”

  The silence lingers between us for a moment. I know she has more to say, and I'm not in a rush. Finally, she lets out a nervous breath and continues, “I went through a lot of things emotionally that night. Ashton really screwed me up when I found out he was engaged to my step-sister, but that night he broke me like I've never been broken before. I walked the entire city until well after the sun had come up, questioning every decision I've ever made, and ultimately coming to the conclusion that I needed space from you – because in
that moment I was fully convinced that I was a hindrance to you and your career, and that you would be better off without me.”

  “You know how crazy that sounds, right?” I ask her, turning into my neighborhood.

  “At that time, no, I didn't.” She stares at me. “He convinced me that I wasn't deserving of love, and that you'd end up leaving me anyway. So I decided that in order to help myself heal, and to protect myself and you in the future, I needed to end things.”

  I pull into the driveway and quickly throw the car into park. “That's insane, Brenna.” I turn in my seat to face her. She looks so tiny and beautiful in the seat next to me, her face outlined by the streetlights. “I wanted to be there for you so badly. More than you will ever know. But you wouldn't let me.”

  “I know, and I'm sorry for that.” Her eyes glisten with tears. “In hindsight, I wish I wouldn't have ran away from you, but what's done is done. I can only ask for your forgiveness now, and hope that you'll still want to be part of my life going forward.”

  Slowly, I reach out and take her hand in mine, our eyes locked. I know that she did what she felt she needed to do, even though it hurt both of us, but it truly sounds like she’s taken responsibility for it. How could I not forgive her?

  “Of course. I'm not going anywhere,” I tell her. She smiles that radiant smile I’ve been missing, and I lean forward to capture her in a kiss, but she pulls away before my lips can touch hers.

  “We still need to discuss Sam.”

  My chest tightens, my already crazy emotions gripping my heart even harder. “Yes. We do,” I finally manage to say. “Um, lets go inside. It'll be easier and more comfortable than sitting out here in my car.”