The Good Luck Charm

by Helena Hunting

  “Why, Martin? Why say that to him with me here? We’re trying to figure things out. He just got home from an away game where he scored a goal. The least you could do is be supportive instead of tearing him down with your black mood.”

  When he replies, his tone is broken, distressed, apologetic even. “You get one soul mate. I don’t want him to lose his again.”

  The damage is long done, though. An apology can’t give me back what he took from me. From Lilah. I drop my bag on the porch and walk across the grass, gaining speed as I go, desperate for an escape from what’s in my head now.

  I take the dock at a run, pushing off the edge, arcing in a dive. The cold water is a welcome shock as I go under. I stroke hard and kick fast, propelling myself forward, breaking the surface only when my lungs are screaming for air. I keep pushing, swimming out, creating distance between me and the words that feel like a knife still buried in my chest.

  We could’ve been building a future together. Instead, we have years of separation from a history so thick with emotion, so full of love, it’s almost painful to have it back after being without it for so long. And even though my career seems to be on an upswing, I have no idea if I’ll be able to carry this through the season. And if I don’t, what then?

  I don’t know when the hourglass on my career is going to run out, but I know I don’t want this to be the end. And if this contract isn’t renewed, what the hell am I going to do? What if I have to move to another city, or worse, back to a farm team—what then? Am I going to up and leave her again? Uproot her life and take her with me? What if she doesn’t want that? We’re still so new again, and I don’t feel like I have the right yet to ask her these questions, to put that kind of pressure on her when she’s just started on a new path for her own life.

  When my muscles are aching and my legs feel like rubber, I stop and roll onto my back, staring up at the darkening blue sky. The sun is cresting low on the horizon, and with the fading light, the cold settles beneath my skin, seeping into my bones.

  I flip over on my stomach and orient myself, catching Lilah’s silhouette standing on the dock in the distance. I raise a hand to show her I’m okay, and she mirrors the movement, dropping down on the edge of the dock. It takes me a while to get back to her, my adrenaline having waned.

  She makes small circles in the water with her feet, the ripples colliding with mine on my approach. “You okay?”

  “I don’t like this version of him. I don’t want this to be the one who stays.” It’s not an answer to her question, but it’s an answer all the same.

  Lilah sighs. “He’s frustrated. He doesn’t have control. His filter is missing, so he words things in ways that aren’t kind.”

  “He’s a mean fucking bastard without it.” I tread water looking up at the sky as pink threads through the clouds. A shiver runs through me, my skin pebbling as the air cools with the loss of the sun.

  “You have a right to be angry about what he said, Ethan, but it’s not how he meant it. He’s just worried, about himself, about you, about us.” She pats the dock. “I can go get you a towel. Come on out and sit with me so we can talk.”

  I swim to the end of the dock and grab the edge, resting my forehead against her shin. The skin-to-skin contact feels good. I’ve missed her in the short time I was away. It reminded me a lot of when I first left for college, that dull ache in my chest that never seemed to go away, aware it would be weeks before I could touch her again. At least it’s only days now.

  “I never listened to him, and the only time I did I made the biggest mistake of my life,” I say to her knees.

  She traces the shell of my ear. “You did what you thought was best, Ethan.”

  “I did what he told me would be best. I didn’t want to, but I didn’t want to be selfish with you anymore. I thought it was the right thing, and now I find out that all this time we lost could’ve been avoided if I’d just done what I usually do and ignored him.”

  “If it makes you feel any better, I think he’s just as angry at himself over it as you are.” Gentle fingers thread through my hair, pushing it back. She keeps doing it, over and over. The sensation is calming, warming.

  “I damn well fucking doubt it.” I slide my free hand up the back of her calf and she stills. “Are you okay?” I can’t be the only one shocked by this.

  “Yes. I think so. I’m just sad.”

  “Why sad?” I lift my head and fit myself between her legs, wrapping my palms around her calves and pulling myself up so I can rest a cheek on her knee. God, I need her in ways I’m not sure she understands.

  She regards me with soft affection. I’ve missed being this close to someone, having this kind of effortless connection to another human being. “Because you’re both so intent on either holding or placing blame. Yes, it was a lot of time to lose, but we’re here now, aren’t we?”

  “I don’t think I can forgive so easily.”

  “I can do that for both of us until you’re ready.” She runs her fingers through my hair again.

  “Don’t stop, please.” A wave of goose bumps covers my body.

  “You’re cold.”

  “It’s warm in the water.” I hoist myself up higher so there’s more contact, wetting her skirt, turning it transparent, making it stick to her skin. She doesn’t stop me when I slide my wet hands under the hem. Instead, she traces the edge of my jaw before returning to my hair.

  “I used to love when you did this,” I murmur. “I still do.”

  “I know.” This time she runs her nails over my scalp and I shudder. “Why don’t you get out of the water? I’m sure Jeannie will be home soon. You can grab a quick shower and we can go back to my place. Spend some quality time together.”

  Instead of using the ladder, I pull myself up into the space between her legs. Lilah leans back on her elbows with a laugh. I lean in and kiss the end of her nose. “Hi.”

  “You do realize you’re getting me all wet, right?”

  “I love it when you’re wet.”

  She snorts and rolls her eyes.

  “I’m glad I’m home.” This time I kiss her warm mouth.

  “Me, too,” she says against my lips.

  “Remember when we used to do this all the time?” She shivers as I kiss along her throat. “Late-night swims. You on the ladder, me between your legs.”

  “I remember how many times we almost got caught.”

  “That was part of the fun, wasn’t it?” She whimpers when I stretch out on top of her on the dock, my hard-on pressed against her through layers of wet fabric.

  “Ethan.” It’s a warning, but she hooks a knee around the back of my leg and arches under me.

  “I missed you.” I kiss her again, stroking inside her mouth as I roll my hips.

  “I missed us.” A violent shiver rips through her as a cool breeze blows up from the lake, and I realize this probably isn’t the greatest idea.

  “Come on—let’s get you out of these wet clothes.” I jump to my feet and extend a hand, pulling her up. We rush back to the house, teeth chattering as the sun sinks below the tree line.

  My dad has his tablet with the external keyboard in his lap, brow pulled low as he types with one finger, apparently concentrating so hard he doesn’t notice us until the screen door swings closed with a slam.

  He looks from me to Lilah, the front of her outfit soaked, thanks to me. She hugs herself as her teeth clack against each other. His brows pop up. “Happened?”

  “Your son tried to use me as a towel.”

  My dad’s expression is difficult to read as he turns to watch Lilah scamper up the stairs.

  “Are you gonna grab me a towel?” I call after her.

  “Sure.” A washcloth lands at the bottom of the stairs, too far away for me to reach, not that it’d be much help, anyway.

  My dad’s cheek tics as if he’s fighting a smile.

  “Come on, Lilah.”

  “It’ll cover the important parts!” The sound of a door closing
on the floor above means she’s not going to help me out more than she already has. I suppose it serves me right.

  “You’re not gonna rat me out to Mom if I walk across the house like this, are you?” I ask my dad, gesturing to my wet suit.

  He shakes his head, subdued.

  I bust my ass across the living room, trying to stay off the hardwood, and skid across the floor, rushing down the stairs to my bedroom. I’m quick about changing into jeans, a tee, and a sweatshirt. Now that I’m not as angry and the adrenaline has worn off, I have a chill. I grab a couple of towels from the basement, mop up any water on the living room floor, and throw everything in the laundry before my mom returns from her dinner. It’s after eight already, and I have no idea what time she left, but I have to assume she’ll be back soon. She’s not big on leaving my dad for any length of time, even less when he’s without a chaperone, which he loathes. Unless it’s Lilah, of course. Although tonight even her presence didn’t seem to temper his bad mood.

  I put the kettle on and return to the living room. If I’m cold, Lilah must be, too.

  “Ethan.”

  I look over at my dad, who’s sitting on the couch with the tablet still in his lap.

  “You want tea, too?” I ask, not quite ready to forgive him, but I don’t think staying angry does me any good, either.

  He nods, then pats the cushion beside him.

  “You want me to sit?”

  I get another head bob.

  I cross my arms over my chest and stay where I am. “You planning to say more shitty things to me?”

  He has the decency to look guilty as he shakes his head.

  I flop down on the couch beside him. If he wants something from me, he’s going to have to ask.

  He passes me the tablet and taps the screen. “Read, please?”

  I glance down, expecting a question or a couple of lines asking me to do something for him—that’s not what I get, though.

  Ethan,

  I’ve been stuck inside my own head for a while now, and it hasn’t been a great place to be. I’ve had time to reflect, encumbered by my body’s unwillingness to do what I want it to. I’ve also had time to watch this relationship between you and Delilah blossom again.

  It’s my fault that you were apart all this time.

  I wish I’d said this years ago. Maybe I could’ve saved you both a lot of hurt and myself a lot of regret, because I forced you to make a choice without weighing the consequences. I wanted you to stay, and I thought I could push you to decide between the two things you loved the most. I didn’t realize the damage I would do to Delilah, to you, to our relationship.

  Your mother was angry for a long time. It took me until now to understand why. She knew what I had been blind to.

  You only get one soul mate.

  You just found yours before you understood what it meant, and I interfered when I shouldn’t have.

  I’m so sorry for keeping you two apart for as long as I have.

  Right now I’m trapped inside this body that doesn’t work properly, and half the time I can’t even find the words I want to use, and then I use them in ways that hurt instead of help.

  I love you. I’m proud of you.

  Dad

  I read the letter twice, hearing his voice the entire time. I can’t imagine the weight of living with this. Watching Lilah marry someone else, seeing that relationship fail, watching my career decline over the past eight years. When I meet his gaze, it’s full of sad regret, and I finally understand where the wall that’s been between us came from.

  He pats my leg with a heavy, clunky hand. “I’m sorry.”

  I could be angry, but it serves no purpose. Life is full of what-ifs and uncertainties. “If it makes you feel any better, I probably would’ve fucked it up along the way if we’d stayed together. She missed my worst years.”

  The kettle whistles, and the front door swings open, announcing my mother’s arrival home. My father’s face lights up, and I suddenly understand what he means about soul mates.

  Those two belong together. My mother is the pepper to his salt.

  I don’t recall a time when they’ve been apart. Not for more than a day or two when my dad would go on one of his fishing trips.

  My father reaches for the walker he detests and struggles to get it open on his own, but he manages after two tries. My mother takes slow steps toward him, and when they’re within reach of each other, he finds the strength to let go of the walker, cup her face in his unsteady palms, and kiss her.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The Woods

  Lilah

  A few days later Ethan shows up at my door dressed in sports gear and hiking shoes, holding a bag from my favorite bakery. I’ve been home for all of five minutes and I’m still dressed in my scrubs.

  “What’s this?” I nod to the bag.

  “So you don’t have to stop for breakfast on your way to work in the morning.”

  “That was thoughtful.”

  He grins. “No stopping for breakfast means more spooning time for me.”

  “Ah, ulterior motives to go with your sweetness. I see.” I step back, smiling, as he invites himself inside and drops his duffel on the floor. I barely give it a glance—if he comes for a visit now, it’s typically overnight. He’s about three hours earlier than I expected, though. “I thought you were coming over around eight.”

  “Sorry. I got a little antsy. I thought we could go for a walk.” He wraps his arms around me and gives me a warm kiss.

  I cringe as Merk runs a circle around us, nudges up with his nose, then rushes to where his leash is hanging by the door and barks. “You said the w word.” There’s no way we’re getting into any kind of make-out session now.

  He kisses the end of my nose and grins. “Looks like I have a taker.”

  “Awesome. Why don’t you take him for a nice long one? I have some reading to do for class.” I give him a cheeky grin.

  “You’d rather read a book than spend quality time with me and Merk?”

  I hesitate, weighing the things I have to do against this opportunity to spend time with Ethan. Despite it being early in the course, the load is already pretty heavy. “I have homework when we get back, though.” I suppose I could put it off for an hour or so.

  His hands go lower, cupping my ass. “You’re sexy when you study.”

  “I mean it, Ethan. If you’re a distraction, I’m sending you packing. I have an assignment due in two days that I haven’t started.”

  “That’s not like you.”

  “No. It’s not. There’s a six-foot-two hockey player who keeps interfering with my study time.” While I very much enjoy having Ethan around, I don’t want to lose sight of my goal—which is only two stats courses away from being possible.

  “I promise not to interfere—just don’t make me go home.”

  “Martin in a mood?”

  “Nah. He’s good. Moving around so much better these days, and he needs a lot less help, but you know how it is. I’m on family overdose. I need my space.”

  “So you’re planning to invade mine—is that it?”

  “Your bed is nicer.”

  “You take up ninety percent of it.” I poke him in the chest.

  He grins. “You love it.”

  “Don’t kid yourself. I tolerate it.” He knows I don’t mean that. I love it when he curls himself around me. Ethan’s love of spooning hasn’t changed at all.

  “It won’t be long before I take possession of the Hoffman estate. Then we’ll have a king-size bed to make good use of.”

  “Things to look forward to this fall, huh?” I push his wandering hands away so as not to disappoint Merk. He needs fresh air, and I’ll be more focused if I get some, too. Maybe it’ll help Ethan be less of a study distraction. “Just let me get changed, then.”

  I leave Ethan standing in the foyer and rush upstairs to throw on a pair of yoga pants and a light tank. It’s still warm, but it’s cooling faster in the evening, so I g
rab a hoodie as well. When I come back downstairs, I find Ethan waiting on the front porch, Merk leashed and ready to go.

  He looks me over, cocking his head to the side. “All set?”

  “Yup.” I lock the door and follow behind Ethan and Merk.

  His truck beeps and he heads toward it instead of the sidewalk.

  “What’re you doing?”

  He opens the passenger door. “I thought it would be nice to head out to the path that runs along the lake. I haven’t been down there in years.”

  I eye him suspiciously. “You mean the one we used to take in high school?”

  He blinks innocently at me. “Is that okay? We don’t have to.”

  “No, no. It’s fine.” I climb into the cab and shift to the center of the bench seat when Merk jumps up beside me, tail batting me in the arm with his enthusiasm for the trip. Nothing beats a ride in Ethan’s truck and a walk.

  Ethan rolls the window down as he pulls out of the driveway, and Merk sticks his head out, tongue lolling and ears flapping in the breeze. He’s a big dog and takes up a lot of room, forcing me close to Ethan. Every time we turn a corner, his arm brushes mine. I expect him to put a hand on my thigh, or one around my shoulders, but he keeps it surprisingly PG.

  It only takes about ten minutes to get to the high school from my place. Ethan parks in the corner of the lot closest to the forest. Merk prances with excitement once we’re out of the truck, and I have to encourage him to sit while Ethan lifts the dog tags from the rearview mirror and slips them into his pocket. He takes them with him everywhere and apparently always has. Even when I wasn’t part of his life, he kept me close. It makes my heart ache as much as swell. He slings a backpack over his shoulder and locks up the truck.

  “What’s in there?” I ask as he meets me around the hood.