The One You Fight For (The One, #2)

seven

Rosalina

I kick my heels off with a groan. They land somewhere in the hallway, along with my purse and leather jacket. Phone in hand, I head to the kitchen and try to ignore my aching feet. After having a few too many drinks with Emmy, we went to a club and danced like it was our last night alive. There are blisters on my heels and my feet are numb. Had I known we'd end up at a club, I would've worn better shoes.

Flicking the light on, I collapse on a stool and drop my face into my hands. Today's been a long day. I should be exhausted from working, planning, and partying. But the alcohol I've consumed has given me an obnoxious buzz of energy. Plus, I'm a little tipsy.

After massaging my temples, I drop my hands to the counter. I'm about to scroll through my social media when I notice a bag of oatmeal cookies and a folded red, white, and black jersey.

Frowning, I reach for the cookies. They're in a reusable plastic bag and have a blue sticky note attached to them. I remove the note and read through it:

Rosa. Cookies for an autograph? - H

I roll my eyes. Leave it to Hainsey to revert to bribery. That man's always been a die-hard hockey fan. It's no surprise he'd be fan-boying over Luke Madden.

Curious about the jersey, I set the cookies off to the side and unfold it. Across the top of the back, in big white letters, it says MADDEN. Below is the number sixteen. I run my fingers over the letters and numbers, then the fabric. The letters and numbers and smooth, and the fabric is durable and textured beneath my fingertips. Some colours have faded over the years, but overall it's a crisp jersey. Again, with Hainsey's hockey fanatics, it doesn't surprise me.

My eyes shift back to the name. I run my fingers over the letters, feeling a pinch of guilt. Perhaps I'm reading too much into the situation, but it appeared Luke wanted me to stick around. Which is strange. Despite being welcoming to my techniques, he appears distant. As if the facility is the last place he wants to be. Not that I can blame him. He's missed a few games already, and every time he sees the arena, I can almost feel his heart breaking.

Sighing, I fold the jersey and turn my attention to the cookies. Although I'm not hungry, I remove one and start picking at it. Hainsey's an excellent baker, so it's hard to resist anything he makes. Especially his oatmeal raisin cookies, which he knows are my favourite.

As much as I want to focus on something other than Luke Madden, my mind reverts to him. The people who visited him today were Mason Finley and Olivia Sorenson. The teammate and the girlfriend. Mason Finley was drafted the same year as Luke, but didn't play with Calgary until a year later, when he was called up to replace an injured veteran player. His astounding performance led him to earning a permanent spot on the team, and he now fulfils the role of alternative.

Olivia Sorenson is a social media influencer amongst a multitude of things, but her major priority is makeup tutorials. I'm not much of a makeup person—I just dab on some concealer and mascara and call it a day—but I have seen some of her tutorials through Instagram. Makeup is another form of art, and she has a talent for it. After several tries, I realized I could never draw a perfect cat eye.

Aside from their public personalities, they're strangers to me. But I am glad they came to visit Luke. He direly needed some socialization. Every day, I've mentioned how the facility, especially the program he's in, is like a community. There isn't much he can do regarding physical activity, but the game room has a plethora of options: video games, board games. There's a quiet room that's perfect for reading books or working on poetry—whatever the hell he does in his private time. Yet all he wants to do is hide in his room. For a hockey player who is involved with the community, Luke Madden is anti-social.

Breaking off another piece of the cookie, I pop it in my mouth and stare at the jersey. Prying into the lives of other people feels wrong, but when something is posted on social media, they're practically begging for your attention. And although there are lines I shouldn't cross, I grab my phone and pull up Instagram, typing in Luke's name. His account is the first one that pops up: @lukemadden16.

There isn't much to see on his account aside from hockey. Every so often, there's a taste of his personal life: a hiking trip to Switzerland, a fancy dinner with Olivia on the beach somewhere south, charity and volunteer work in marginalized communities. A selfie in the locker room with his teammates...where he's fucking shirtless.

Seeing him shirtless brings back memories of seeing him naked. It's nothing to brag about, but I bet most women who fawn over him can't say they've seen him naked. And, honestly, I'm a little jealous of Olivia. Based on his size and stamina, I'll bet he's a god in bed.

Next, I search Olivia's name. Her account isn't hard to find, and it displays more of her personal life. There are several pictures of Luke and her amongst all the makeup tutorials. Scrolling through, I learn she's also working on a cookbook that's heavily influenced by Luke's eating habits. Luke's even thrown in some recipes.

When I see a picture of Olivia at a friend's bridal shower, I roll my eyes and shut my phone off. I stuff the rest of the cookie in my mouth. After watching my parents' marriage fall apart, love has appeared fickle to me. I refuse to hand my heart over to a man. Love is an inevitable disaster. The foundation of a relationship is bound to collapse.

Love that lasts is rare. My sister and Hainsey are lucky enough to have that. Personally, I'll stick to the late-night hookups and one-night stands without the strings attached. Strings make things too messy. They can become tangled. Too complicated. Sex for pleasure is fine by me.

Yet as I glance around the kitchen, I find loneliness sitting on my shoulder. I miss the touch, the comfort, the stability that haunts my memories.

Nights like tonight are when I succumb to exhaustion and jealousy. Sometimes, I envy Hainsey and Emmy. She's always been able to overcome grudges or unpleasant experiences. She's more resilient than I will ever be. To this day, I still can't look past what happened between our parents. The lingering fear of my past prevents me from committing to a relationship. From opening up to someone who will expose their heart.

And I realize how much of a contradiction that causes.

Somewhere, amidst all my angst, I'm a hopeless romantic.

Expelling another hefty sigh, I push away from the island, gather my phone, and head to the living room. For the next fifteen minutes, I try to watch a rerun of Schitt's Creek. While I should be invested in David and Alexis and the rest of the Rose family, my mind continues to revert to Luke Madden. I feel like I'm stuck on a continuous loop.

He's like a walking sin with those blue-green eyes, dark hair, and perfect face. And whenever he smiles, I become victim to those imperfect dimples. The single freckle hidden beneath his stubble.

As the tiredness from today encompasses me, I think about how I'll see him again tomorrow.