The Good Luck Charm

by Helena Hunting

  “She might not be my blood, but she grew up in this house, and she’s like a daughter. Lilah’s always been a big part of all of our lives, but as much as we love her, I don’t think she’s ever felt like she truly belongs anywhere.”

  “She belongs with me.”

  My dad laughs, his smile full of a knowledge that only comes from life experience and observation. “So I guess you need to make sure she understands that she’s the other half of your soul, and that you need her because you love her, and no other reason.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Family Secrets

  Lilah

  How much longer are you going to make me do this?” Carmen asks as we toss our yoga mats into the trunk of her car. Tonight I walked to yoga for some extra fresh air, but I’m happy to catch a ride home.

  “No one is forcing you to come to yoga with me.”

  “Someone has to keep you from moping all the time.”

  I give her a look from over the hood and wait for her to unlock the doors. “I haven’t been moping.”

  “You’ve been replacing sex with exercise, and that’s almost as bad. I’m constantly sore, and not in a ridden-hard, bent-into-a-pretzel, and highly satisfied kind of way.”

  “Well, it’s not my fault you’ve made yourself available. You can always opt to hang out with me after I’m done with the yoga.”

  “What kind of sister would I be if I didn’t come with you and then complain about it?”

  “I feel so honored by your sisterly dedication.” I adjust the seat so I’m not eating the dashboard and buckle myself in. She keeps it close to the dash so Barkley won’t try to sit in the front seat with her, since he’s huge and can be a distraction.

  Another reason I’m so intent on all these yoga classes is to keep myself occupied and not focused on Ethan and the playoffs outside of work and exam prep.

  His away games have been easier to manage than the home ones in some ways. In others, they’ve been more of a challenge. Missing the game that secured their place in the playoffs was difficult but necessary. As much as I wanted to be there to support him, my own life needs my attention. The time has paid off. I’ve managed to earn exemplary marks on the last three assignments, and my grades are up as a result. I’ll be in a much better place going into this exam than I was when everything blew up between Ethan and me.

  He’s currently in LA, and tomorrow they play the second away game of the series. Minnesota lost the first game two to one. That they’re playing against the team he used to be part of when he was first drafted makes his anxiety worse. The opposing team was chippy last game, and they’ll have inflated egos from the previous win, so hopefully Minnesota can use that to their advantage. Ethan flies back later this week, and they’ll have home ice advantage for the next two games. They’re getting so close to securing a place in the finals. I want this so much for him, so he can see how good he is, with or without me.

  “You know what would be nice?” Carmen asks.

  “What’s that?”

  “If you’d figure out what you’re going to do before the season is over—like, it’d be great if we could go to some of these playoff games.”

  “You’ve never been into hockey.”

  “I’m not. It’s the players I’m into. Those boys are in seriously good shape. And those playoff beards. Sweet lord. How good does that feel between your thighs?”

  I can’t answer that question because I haven’t had Ethan’s beard between my legs. I’d like to say I’ll have that experience before he shaves it off at the end of the season, but I’m not so sure that’s going to happen.

  “I can get you tickets if you want them.”

  “Not if you’re not coming with me.”

  “I can’t go.”

  “What’s one game, Lilah?”

  “It doesn’t send the right message.”

  “What message are you looking to send? What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know yet.” I truly wish I knew what the right decision is. In these weeks of separation, I’ve come to see how much I’ve allowed this relationship to take over every single part of my life. I don’t know if I’m capable of finding balance with Ethan.

  When I get home, I find a small box on my front porch. It doesn’t have a return address, and it was sent Priority Mail. I drop my keys on the side table and absently pat Merk on the head. He’s been for a walk already, so I cross through the house and let him run around in the backyard while I open the box.

  Inside is a bag of Hot Lips and an envelope. I pluck the envelope from the bottom of the box. It’s lumpy, something hard sliding around inside. I flip it open to find a card inside, and as I slip it free, something silver falls to the floor. I bend to pick it up, and a lump forms in my throat that’s hard to swallow around.

  It’s a set of dog tags. Ethan’s dog tags, to be specific. The ones I gave him all those years ago when we started dating. He doesn’t go anywhere without them. They’re either hanging from the rearview mirror of his truck or tucked into the pocket of his jeans. In all the time he’s had them, he’s only misplaced them a couple of times, at least that I’m aware of. He tore apart his room to find them both times.

  I finger the smooth, worn metal and press them to my lips. They smell faintly of his cologne, or maybe that’s in my head. That they’re here with me and not with him on the other side of the country seems incredibly significant.

  The card clutched in my other hand reads Good Luck!

  I flip it open and smile at his messy scrawl.

  Lilah,

  You got this, baby. I just want you to know I’m thinking about you tomorrow while you’re kicking stats ass, wishing I were there to cheer you on like you’ve always done for me.

  I love you,

  Ethan

  It’s been weeks since I asked for a break. Ethan hasn’t pushed at all, but he’s been constant in his quest to show me that he’s thinking about me. Groceries magically appear in my fridge twice a week, along with prepared meals so I don’t have to cook. He’ll stop by in the afternoon when he’s not at away games and take Merk for a long walk so I can focus on studying. He’s never there when I get home, but he leaves notes and flowers.

  I take a few selfies—something I don’t usually do—first of me kissing the dog tags and another of me wearing them. The chain is long, so they sit quite nicely in my cleavage, which is pretty great at the moment, considering my yoga top. I send the pictures to Ethan along with a thank-you.

  My phone buzzes less than a minute later, my stomach knotting as I answer the video call. “Hi.”

  “Is this okay?” He’s in a hotel room, shirtless.

  “The view you mean?”

  He grins and laughs. “I meant me calling. I’m glad they got there. I was worried they’d be late getting to you.”

  “Thank you for these.” I finger the dog tags.

  Ethan’s eyes are soft. “They look good on you. You’re gonna rock that exam tomorrow, baby.”

  My stomach dips over the endearment, his sweet expression, his thoughtfulness. “It’s been nonstop studying around here the past week, so I have my fingers crossed. How’s everything there?”

  “Good. Just getting ready to head to the rink for practice.”

  “I should let you go, then.” There’s awkwardness for a moment. “Good luck out there tomorrow night if I don’t talk to you before then.”

  “Thanks, baby, but you don’t need luck if you’ve got skill.” He winks and we both laugh.

  I end the call feeling both lighter and heavier. I miss him and now I have this piece of him.

  Even though I don’t buy into superstitions all that much, I find myself touching the smooth steel of the dog tags the next evening during my exam. I press them to my lips as I answer question after question. I only struggle with one problem; the rest I seem to breeze through. I leave the exam feeling confident that I’ve done well, and I’m finishing the semester and the course on a high.

 
I get home in time to watch the last period of Ethan’s game. I pour a well-deserved drink and settle in, excited to see that Minnesota is up one goal. They keep the lead and Ethan manages an assist with three minutes to go. LA can’t catch up, and Minnesota takes the win. I send Ethan a quick message:

  Lilah: Nice work on the ice tonight—no good luck charms necessary.

  It’s a long while before I hear from him, likely because of postgame interviews and time spent in the locker room. I’m already cozied up in bed and half-asleep by the time I get a response.

  Ethan: Mad skills here. You kill the exam?

  Lilah: You know it.

  Ethan: That’s my girl. What’re you up to now?

  Lilah: In bed. Early morning for me.

  I don’t get a response right away, which is a bit of a surprise all considering, so I fire another text off, second-guessing myself as soon as I hit Send.

  Lilah: No innuendo about me being in bed?

  Ethan: I kept those all in my head. I’m trying to be good over here, and you baiting me is unhelpful. Go to sleep so you don’t mess this up for me.

  Lilah: Night <3

  Ethan: Sweet dreams, baby.

  When Ethan comes home the next day and stops by with flowers, I suggest we go out for a postexam, game-win celebration drink. He doesn’t invite himself in afterward, and he doesn’t try to kiss me—well, not on the lips. All I get is a peck on the cheek, and when I try to give him back the dog tags, he tells me to hold on to them until my exam results come in.

  Even without the tags, they win the next two home games and head back to LA, hopefully to finish out the series and move on to the finals.

  * * *

  Wednesdays have secretly become my favorite day at work because that’s when Emery comes in for her weekly PT and a checkup. She’s a bright light in my week. It’s been long weeks of hard work for her, but she’s recovered well, and based on her progress, she’ll be able to return to the soccer field soon.

  I peek into the physio room, taking a moment to watch her as she goes through the exercises, determination making her push hard. As happy as I am to see her doing so well, I’m a little sad that she’ll be done with treatment soon and I won’t get to see her anymore. I’ve grown attached to her, which isn’t something that usually happens with patients, but then I don’t often see them on a weekly basis like this. Which is maybe why becoming a practitioner is so appealing, especially if I get to work with families. I’ll be able to see progress as it happens, as I have with Emery. I feel like I can really make a difference.

  She waves when she spots me at the doorway. “Check this out, Lilah!” She does some kind of move that would probably pull all sorts of muscles if I were to try it.

  “Looking good.”

  “Right? Dr. Lovely said one more week and he thinks I’m clear to play summer league. Took forever, but it’s been so worth it.”

  I mirror her enthusiastic smile. “That’s fantastic news.”

  “I know.” Her grin falls a bit and she fiddles with her ponytail. “I’m kinda sad I won’t have a reason to come here anymore, though.”

  “Miss checking out the lovely doctor?” I cross over to where she’s standing.

  Her smile returns, impish this time. “It really is too bad he’s so old. Maybe when I’m of legal drinking age, he’ll be interested.”

  I laugh at the idea that midthirties is old to her. “May I request that you don’t break anything else in order to test that theory, please?”

  “Uh, yeah. I have zero plans to break any more bones. Um, I don’t know if this is, like, allowed or whatever, but maybe, I don’t know…we could keep in touch once I’m not a patient here anymore? Or you could, like, come see a game or something if that’s not allowed.”

  “I would love that.” And honestly, I probably would’ve found myself at a game even if I hadn’t had a direct invitation, but this certainly makes that easier. “Actually, I might be taking some courses there in the fall.”

  “Really?”

  “Yup, so maybe we can meet up for coffee, or something.”

  She claps her hands and does a little jumpy thing before throwing her arms around me. She releases me before I can return the embrace. “Awesome. I’m staying to take extra courses this summer, and it looks like I get to keep my lifeguarding job, so I’ll be around.”

  “What’s the boy situation looking like?”

  She makes a face. “I went out with this guy last week, but he thought coffee would get him an invitation back to my apartment. There’s a graduate student in my building who offered to help me study for my human biology final, and I totally wouldn’t mind if it ended up being hands-on.” She nudges me with her elbow and gives me an exaggerated wink.

  I laugh at that. “Just make sure you’re safe about the hands-on part.”

  “Oh my God! Do not do that parent thing with me. I already have a mother who is way too interested in having those kinds of conversations. Oh! Speaking of parents, you’ll probably meet them. They’re picking me up today.”

  “Are they here for a visit?”

  “Yeah. They’re driving across the country in an RV for fun. They’ve already done the entire West Coast, so they figured they’d head this way before they go south again. I swear, my dad has no idea how to relax. They’ve gone on, like, four trips already, and he’s only been retired for four months. Anyway, they’re stopping here for a few days. Personally I think my parents are kind of having a hard time with me not coming back for the summer and this is their way of managing, since I’m pretty much their only kid.”

  “That makes sense. There’s not really a reason for them to stay put all summer if you’re not going to be there, so they might as well come see you, right?”

  “Yeah. So I try not to get all uptight about how much they call, or that they want to know every detail of every little thing.”

  “That’s a mature attitude.” I had the opposite experience as a kid with my own mother. She was too busy juggling jobs and trying to put food on the table for all of us to be interested in the details of my life.

  She shrugs. “I’d rather have parents who want to know everything instead of nothing, I guess.” Her phone buzzes in her pocket, and her eyes light up as she checks the message. “They’re here! Want to come meet them? I kind of told them about you…” She scrunches up her nose, like maybe she’s embarrassed. “Except—and don’t be offended—I called you Nurse Ratched. I meant it as a joke, though, because, like, clearly you’re the opposite of a manipulative psychopath.”

  I bark out a laugh. “I should probably get an introduction, then, just so they’re not worried about your medical care.”

  “My dad says they’re waiting by the front entrance. I hope they didn’t bring the RV, ’cause that’d be kind of embarrassing.” She bounces with excitement as we walk down the hall. A couple in their fifties stand close to each other by the main doors, heads bent together as they check a phone. They lift their gaze as Emery calls out, “Mom! Dad!”

  She breaks into a jog, throwing herself at her parents, and my heart aches a little, but in a good way, as they wrap her up in their arms, the three of them parts of a whole. I stand back, a silent observer, and wonder if I’ll ever have a family of my own. And if Ethan will be a part of that or not. Regardless, it would be nice to have someone who loves me as much as Emery seems to love her parents.

  “Mom, Dad, I want you to meet my friend, or my nurse.” She flails as if unsure how to introduce me.

  “I think I’m safely both of those things.”

  I smile at her mom and then shift to greet her father.

  “Delilah Jane?”

  I stare at him, openmouthed and unable to speak. It’s been twenty years, but even with the lines on his face and the receding gray hair, I couldn’t ever forget him.

  “Dad?”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Forgiveness

  Lilah

  I open my eyes and find myself surrounded b
y medical staff. It takes me a few seconds to process what’s going on until I see the concerned face of Emery, arms crossed over her body as if she’s hugging herself. Beside her, twenty years older than he was the last time I saw him, is my father.

  “I’m fine.” I brush away the hands of my colleagues, embarrassed. I’ve never fainted in my life.

  “You hit your head pretty hard,” Emery says.

  “Let me do a quick assessment, Lilah.” Dr. Lovely isn’t asking—he’s telling.

  I acquiesce because there’s no way I’m getting out of an exam to check for a concussion at the very least. “Okay. Fine.”

  I ignore his offered hand and manage to get to my feet on my own, but I’m a little off balance. Still, when a wheelchair appears, I balk. “I can walk to an exam room.”

  “You will take the chair, and you will be a gracious patient, Delilah,” Dr. Lovely replies evenly.

  I purse my lips, give him a glare that would wilt a lesser man, and drop into the chair.

  “Lilah?” Emery’s soft voice brings my attention back to her. She looks so confused and maybe a little scared.

  I give her a small smile. “I’m fine. It’s okay if you have to go. I know how to get in touch with you.”

  She bites her lip and rushes over, throwing her arms around my neck in an awkward hug. “I hope you really are my sister, because that would be the best ever.” She lets me go and steps back, using the sleeve of her shirt to wipe at her eyes. I feel my own pricking with an echo of her emotions.

  I don’t look at the man responsible for providing half of my DNA as they wheel me away.