I wipe away the tear leaking out of my eye. “He really is a class act,” Rudy says, and I just nod. “For a couple of hours, these kids forget they are sick.”
I listen to him read at least five stories. He never rushes through them and always asks the kids questions. When he is done reading, he sits with them for some questions and answers, and he stays to sign whatever they bring to him. He smiles with them all and hugs them and jokes with them. He also chats and shakes hands with the parents. My heart is literally going to explode in my chest because nothing could have prepared me for this.
I turn and walk away for a second, looking for a bathroom to make sure you can’t tell that I’m crying. I follow the signs to the bathroom and look at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes look a little bloodshot, and my nose has just a touch of redness to it. I shake my head, walking out of the bathroom, and stop when I see Miller standing by a nurse. She has blond hair, and I hear her first.
“Don’t tell me you were going to leave without saying hello,” she says to him with a huge smile as she steps in closer to him.
He smiles at her, and my heart sinks. “Not a chance in hell, beautiful.” He puts his hand around her shoulder, and they walk away from me. This, I shake my head, this is not for me. Just when I’m about to turn around and head out the nearest exit, I hear him call my name. “Layla.” I look up and smile at him, game face on. “There you are. I was looking everywhere for you.”
“I just went to the bathroom.” I fold my arms over my chest so he doesn’t try to hold my hand.
“You can go ahead and finish your conversation.” I point at the blonde, who is just standing there. “I’ll wait over here.”
“I wasn’t having a conversation,” he says, and I want to roll my eyes so hard, but I don’t. “Are you ready to go?” he asks, and I just nod and then look around.
“I was going to thank Dr. Rudy for letting me stay,” I tell him as we walk to the elevator. The blonde is still looking at us.
“You can thank him next time you come,” he says. We get into the elevator, and I stand as far away from him as I can.
“That was really amazing,” I say, and he smiles. “Have you been doing it long?”
“I’ve been coming here for about four years. I came with the guys once, and then I forgot something and came back, and well …” He shrugs and smiles. “I love it. It’s hands down the best feeling in the world to come in and be a little bit of light for them.”
Goddammit, I yell at myself when he says that. I walk out of the elevator and to the car, and I get in when he opens the door for me. “Thank you,” I tell him, and he just looks at me as though he is trying to figure out something.
He gets in the car and looks over at me. “Want to go and get something to eat?” he asks, and I shake my head.
“Not really,” I say. “If you can just drop me off at my car, I have a couple of things to do today.”
He just nods and starts the car. I look out the window the whole time. My emotions are so up and down I can’t even begin to explain them. He pulls into the parking lot of the coffee shop.
“Thank you for sharing today with me,” I tell him when I reach for the door handle. “It was hands down the best day I’ve had in a long time.”
He smiles at me. “Anytime, gorgeous.” He says my nickname, and I want to cringe. I also make the mistake of thinking about how many other people might have had that nickname.
“Take care, Miller,” I say, getting out of the car and walking to mine. I ignore the beating of my heart in my chest and the stinging in my eyes. I ignore the anger while I make my way home. I ignore it all, burying it deep inside me. I unlock the door and slam it shut, and only then do I let my shoulders slump. I’m not in the house for longer than a minute when the doorbell rings.
I open the door, expecting it to be anyone else but him. “Miller?” I say his name in almost a whisper.
“What exactly is going on right now?” he asks me, walking into the house, and I close the door softly. “We were having the best day. And then. It’s like a switch went off, and I just don’t understand it.”
“It’s nothing,” I tell him, and he just stands there with his hands on his hips.
“At least be honest with me.” His eyes look at me like they dare me to say something.
“Be honest with you?” I laugh now, and he looks at me, shocked at the way it came out.
“Okay, you want me to be honest with you,” I say. “Here it is. I don’t know what goes on in your head sometimes,” I tell him, and I don’t give him a chance to even answer it. “I finally came to the conclusion that I liked you.” His eyes light up. “Oh, don’t celebrate just yet. So I decided that I like you, and maybe we can be friends.”
“I don’t want to be friends with you,” he says, and it’s now my turn to stare at him. “After all this time, you have to know that friendship is not what I want from you.”
“Well, it’s about the only thing that you are going to get from me,” I tell him.
“Why?” he asks.
“Why?” I counter him. “Why? Seriously. I can’t take the two sides to Miller,” I tell him, my voice rising a bit. “I’m with this funny Miller, who makes me laugh and cooks me dinner and is considerate and kind.”
“That’s me.” He points at himself proudly.
“And then there is the idiot Miller, who takes me out and flirts with girls right in front of my face. Who has the audacity to just straight-up disrespect me to my face.” His face falls. “Yeah, that’s also you.”
“But that isn’t the real me,” he tells me. “The guy in my house is the real me. The guy at coffee shop is the real me. The guy reading to those kids? That is the real me.” He shakes his head. “That other guy, he’s the hockey player.”
“You got at least one thing right; he’s the player.” He rolls his eyes. “What would you say if we went out, and you saw me with a male fan of the show, and I hug him and call him honey?” His eyes glare at me. “If I let him put his arm around my shoulder and walk away while we have a conversation together, letting you watch.”
“I’m not like that,” he says, huffing out.
“That is exactly who you are. Now you have to decide what kind of man do you want to be?”
“I want to be me!” he shouts, making me glare at him.
“Then be you,” I tell him.
“So, you can’t be with that person,” he says. “The second guy.”
“I won’t be with that person ever. I won’t be in a relationship if I have to second-guess my worth.” I wipe the tear away, feeling more hurt than I thought I would. “I will not second-guess my worth.”
“No one is asking you to,” he says.
“But you do—every single time you grab the blonde or the brunette and squeeze them in for a picture. I can’t do it,” I say softly. “I wouldn’t expect you to accept me that way, just as I don’t expect you to make me accept you like that.”
“I’m sorry I hurt your feelings,” he says and then walks to the door. “And for the record, they don’t mean anything to me. It’s just a part of my job. Take care, Layla.” He says my name and walks out of my house. I wait a few minutes before I move and lock the door, walking then to my purse and taking out my phone.
I look at his contact, and everything in me screams to block his number. But my fingers don’t do it. I don’t touch anything. I press the button, closing off the screen, and then a text comes through.
Miller: I’m sorry I can’t be that guy.
I power off my phone. “I’m sorry, too,” I say to the universe.
Chapter 20
Miller
As I drive away from her house, my heart is crushed like it’s never been before. I play the day over and over in my head. Showing her that part of me was something I didn’t take lightly. I’m not ashamed of it, but I love doing it just because there isn’t a big deal made from it. When I walk onto that fourth floor, I’m just a regular guy being invite
d in to help these kids forget they are sick for just a little bit.
When I pull up to my house, I see she hasn’t texted me back. To be honest, there really isn’t anything she can say. Unlocking the door, I make my way to my bedroom without turning on any lights.
I pack my bag to pass the time and try not to think about what she said, but I hear the words over and over again. I don’t have two sides, I tell myself, and when I go to bed that night, all I can do is hear “I like you but ...”
I’m cranky as fuck when I get to the airport and park my car. My shades are blocking the circles around my eyes from having the worst night of my life. I grumble to a couple of the guys who say hello to me and stand on the side while they bring the stairs out to load the plane that is parked there.
“Hey,” Manning says when he walks in a couple of minutes later. I nod at him, and he just stands there with his phone in his hand. I don’t even know what he’s scrolling since the guy refuses to be on social media. “This week is going to be a long one.”
I look over at him. “It’ll be good to get away,” I finally say, and I see he wants to ask me something, but he just looks ahead as Ralph gets here. With his bag hanging on his shoulder, he grumbles hello to us, and we grumble back.
We load up the plane. I sit by myself, and I look back to see Manning sitting by himself, and Ralph sitting across from me by himself. I take the baseball cap on my head and put it over my face and just zone out while we fly to Winnipeg.
When the plane touches down, I look out the window and am shocked by the amount of snow on the ground. “Shit,” I say. “I didn’t pack a jacket,” I say, looking at Ralph, who just furrows his eyebrows.
“Dude, we’re on a road trip to Canada in November. Were you expecting palm trees?” He laughs at me.
“I think someone is going to have to go shopping,” Manning says from behind me.
I get up and grab my bag. My balls freeze the minute I step out of the plane, and apparently, I’m the only one who didn’t pack for this trip properly. “Rookie mistake,” Ralph says, shaking his head as we walk to the waiting bus. I rush in taking the first open seat, rubbing my hand together.
“So does that mean you won’t come shopping with me?” I ask, and he puts his head back.
“No,” he says and then looks at me.
“Don’t make me go by myself,” I say. “I don’t want to be the only one.”
“Ask Manning,” he says. I turn in my seat, and I don’t even have to ask him.
“No,” he snaps out. “It’s a mall.”
“Exactly! You can, I don’t know, start your Christmas shopping,” I tell him, and he just glares at me.
“You’re my captain. You don’t leave anyone behind,” I tell him, trying not to laugh.
“This is hockey, not the military,” Manning says, and then huffs out. “Fine, Ralph and I will both come.”
“Hey,” Ralph says. “How did I get sucked into this?”
“Assistant captain,” Manning says. “We leave no man down.”
He shakes his head, and when we get to the hotel, we dump our bags and rush out to the mall. Ralph is typing away on his phone, and so is Manning. “You guys are worse than girls.”
“The question is why aren’t you texting Layla?” Manning asks right before we get into the waiting van that the hotel got for us.
“That’s over,” I say, my voice low, and they both look at me. “What?”
“That’s over?” Ralph asks. “I’m so confused. When did it start?”
“Fuck you,” I say, flipping him the bird. “She’s so …” I shake my head. “She’s so …”
“She’s so all up in your head.” Manning laughs.
“She told me yesterday she can’t date me because I’m two different people,” I say out of frustration, and I look at them.
“What does that mean?” Manning asks, and I shrug.
“She had to have told you more than that,” Ralph says. “She’s not just going to leave you hanging like that. No girl would.”
“So she loves the Miller who cooks her dinner and does stuff, but she hates the Miller who flirts with girls in front of her.”
“You flirt with girls in front of her?” Manning folds his hands together.
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “They were fans. They came up to me, and you know you have to be nice to them.”
“Were these fans women?” Ralph asks, and I nod.
“Don’t even start,” I say to them. “You pose for pictures with girls.”
“I do,” Manning says, and so does Ralph.
“But,” Manning says, “I don’t call them sweetie and beautiful.”
I look at him. “I don’t do that.”
He and Ralph both laugh. Ralph talks before Manning. “You always do. And you put your—”
“Arm around them, bringing them close to you,” Manning finishes.
“Don’t you?”
“Fuck no,” Ralph says. “One, I would never even do that for fear she might think something else, and two, that sends the wrong message.”
“It does not,” I tell them.
“When you pose with guys, do you call them handsome?” Manning asks, and I just glare at him. “Do you hug them and pull them closer?”
“Exactly,” Ralph says.
“Whatever. It means nothing,” I tell them. “That is a part of the job.”
“What job?” Manning asks, and Ralph just looks at me. “I don’t think she’s telling you not to be nice to the fans. I think she’s telling you to stop with the smiling and the joking and the touching.”
“You can be nice without all that. It also blurs the lines. It makes them think you want them or they actually have a chance,” Ralph says. “What would you do if you walked with her, and she did that with guys? Called them hot stuff and shit. Makes them hug her and pose for a picture.” The thought makes me bite down on my jaw. “Exactly.”
We get to the mall and step in, and I can tell already that a couple of people recognize us. “Great,” I say and look over at Manning. “Why do you have to stick out like a sore thumb?”
“I’m six feet six,” he says. “There’s nothing I can do.”
A couple of kids come up to us and ask us for our autograph and to take pictures, and then I look over and see three girls twirling their hair. “Incoming,” Ralph says, and I look up.
“Oh my God,” one of them says. “Are you guys hockey players?”
“We are,” Manning says. “Have a great night.”
“That’s how it’s done,” Ralph says, and I walk ahead when one of the girls asks for a picture.
“Sure,” I say, then turn to the guys. “Look at this.” The guys walk over to the girls. “Are we taking selfies?” I say, and I almost call them beautiful, but I stop myself. My mouth almost drops open in shock that they might actually be right. One of the girls slides up to me, but I put my hands in my pockets and pose with a smile. “Have a great night.”
“Oh, we will now,” one of them says, and I turn to walk away without saying anything.
“How’s it going?” Manning asks when we walk into the store.
“She was right,” I say softly. “Like I didn’t see it before.”
“Look, you can be professional without the touching and the flirting,” Manning says. He picks up a jacket for me, and I try it on as the sales lady walks over with a smile.
“Can I help you guys with anything?” she asks, and I look up at her.
“We are just looking,” I say, turning around now as she steps away.
“Was that hard?” Manning asks.
“It must kill him,” Ralph says. And I just look at them.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say to them.
“This is what would have happened,” Manning says to me and then looks at Ralph. “You be the girl.”
“Hi, can I help you guys with something?” he says to Manning and pretends to throw his hair behind his shoulder, and
I laugh at him.
“Not yet, sugar,” Manning says. “But as soon as I see something I like”—he winks at Ralph—“you’ll be the first to know.”
“I am not like that,” I say as Ralph laughs.
“Manning,” Ralph says, “you nailed that part and the wink.”
I shake my head. “You are both assholes.” I grab the jacket and go to the cashier, whipping out my card when she asks how I’m paying. “Thank you.” I grab the jacket. “Actually …” I smile at her. “Do you think you can cut off the tags for me?” And I swear I have to stop my eye from winking.
“Sure thing,” she says, cutting off the tags and the instructions. “If you have any questions, my number is on the bill.”
“Thank you.” I smile at her and walk out.
When we walk past a group of girls, one of them spots us, and you can tell her eyes light up. “Oh my God, you guys are my favorite players,” she says, and even I want to roll my eyes. “Can I get a picture with the three of you?”
“Sure,” we all say. I watch Ralph and Manning walk to her, and all they do is stand next to her. Actually, their bodies are away from her, and they just lean in their heads. I walk over when the girl tries to put her arm through Ralph’s and Manning’s. They stick their hands in their pockets so she knows they don’t really want her touching. “Thank you, guys,” she says and walks away.
“She touched you.” I point at the guys and mimic her holding their arms.
“Yes,” Ralph says, “but that picture will show I had my hands in my pockets, and she touched me and not I wanted her to.”
I don’t say anything, and for the next three days, I watch and learn basically. I break the habit of smiling so much while still remaining polite.
Right before we load the plane to go home, Ralph walks past me and says, “He’s learning, grasshopper.” I’ve just left three girls who all wanted a selfie with me. I posed with my head leaning into them and not my body.
“He looks like a cardboard cut out,” Manning says. “But at least I didn’t hear any sweeties or beautiful.” I shove his shoulder, and he just laughs. “But seriously, do you see it now?”
Only One Chance Page 12
