When Alec Met Evie (Appies, #6)

by Jenny Proctor

They stopped for burgers on their way over, so they don’t need food, and they seem happy to spend the rest of their evening playing NHL 25. They invite me to play, but I’d rather go see if Evie is still in the kitchen. I don’t find her there, but I do have a text message waiting for me. Evie Sorry to disappear on you. Juno decided she’s done for the night. Thanks for hanging out with me. I won’t tell anyone if you really do eat all the cinnamon rolls yourself. I tap my phone against my palm, processing my disappointment. Because I am disappointed. I like hanging out with Evie. After her first night here, I was hoping for the chance to do it more. She’s easy to talk to and fun to be around, and I like that we have so much shared history. She’s also beautiful. Which, I can’t pretend like that isn’t part of this. It never occurred to me to notice or even look when she was younger. She was so much younger that it would have been weird if it had. But now…is nine years too much of an age gap? She has Juno, and that makes her seem older, but she really isn’t older. Plus, she’s only been divorced a little over a year. There are a million reasons why I shouldn’t be so disappointed that the twins showed up and interrupted our time together. Reasons why I shouldn’t be looking at my little sister’s best friend with anything but brotherly affection. I run a hand through my hair, then type out a quick response to her message. Alec No worries. Enjoy the rest of your night. There. Simple....

When I step into the kitchen, Evie looks up, and her mouth falls open. I’ve always appreciated the tradition of game-day suits—I like having a reason to dress up—but Evie’s expression makes it even more worth it.

“Wow,” Evie says. “You look really nice.” “Yeah?” I slide a hand down my tie, then hook my thumbs on the edge of my pants pockets. Evie is wearing her overalls again, and she’s barefoot, looking perfectly relaxed and comfortable. She has glasses on, and I don’t think she’s wearing any makeup. I like the glasses, and I like how at home she looks in my space. It’s a nice change from the big empty house I’m used to. She stands and shifts around the counter, moving toward me. When she reaches me, she lifts her hands to my collar. “You really know how to wear a suit. You just need to tuck your tie in right here.” I catch the scent of her as she adjusts my tie—apples and cinnamon—and I feel a sudden impulse to lift a hand and wrap it around the curve of her waist, tug her against me. The desire startles me with its potency. I haven’t felt anything like it in a long time, which makes it easy to ignore the reasons I thought I had for staying away. I debated long and hard after Riley asked me if I’d met someone. So what if Evie is my sister’s best friend and a little bit younger than I am? Now that I’ve spent a little time with Evie, those reasons feel pretty thin. But she is still vulnerable. And she’s trusting me and living in my space, and I don’t want her to think I’m allowing her to live here because I’m hoping for something more. I also don’t know how to stop my heart from pounding whenever she’s close. “Thanks,” I say, forcing myself to stay still, to resist the allure of to...

halfway to the Summit before I realize I didn’t check in with the twins before leaving. They have their own transportation—they can definitely drive themselves to the game. But it seems dumb to have left without waiting for them—without asking if they wanted a ride since we’re headed to the same place. But I lost all sense of reason when I made eye contact with Evie, when I felt the heat of her gaze. I didn’t even remember the twins were in the house, much less members of my hockey team. Clearly, I haven’t gotten my good sense back because before I head to the locker room, I find myself in the gift shop at the Summit, braving the crowds to look at infant-sized Appies merch. It’s a ridiculous thing to do on so many levels. One. I have no idea whether Evie would ever put her baby in Appies gear. Two. I have no idea if our relationship—friendship?—justifies this kind of a gift. Three. Even though it’s still hours before puck drop, already fans are hanging around, and I’m getting more than a few excited looks. “Um, this is brave of you.” I look up to see Summer, Nathan’s girlfriend, eyeing me, her expression curious. As part of the Appies’ in-house legal team, Summer is at the Summi...

I stop in the concourse outside the arena, where I spend a few minutes talking to the fans who followed me out and signing jerseys and hats and team posters. The longer I stand here, the more people will gather, so I need to go before things get out of hand, but it’s hard to turn away from fans, especially the kids. Finally, Summer holds up her palm like she’s my handler. “Thanks, everyone. Alec needs to get down to the ice for warmups.” She steers me out of the crowd and stays beside me as I head toward the stairs that will take me below. “You’re good at that,” I say as we hurry past watching fans. “Nathan’s given me a lot of practice,” she says. “I can’t take that man anywhere without a crowd gathering.” We reach a locked door into a stairwell, and Summer swipes her ID badge, allowing us to pass through. “I don’t know that Nathan would ever just wander up to the concourse right before a home game though,” Summer says, eyeing me as we start down the stairs. “Yeah, I don’t know what I was thinking.” She smirks. “I’m pretty sure I know exactly what you were thinking.” “I wasn’t—it’s not like that,” I say a little too quickly. Summer only shrugs. “Okay. But if it is like that, you...

We dominate the first two periods and start the third with a two-point lead. Halfway through the third, Coach adjusts our defensive rotation and pulls Nathan and me, adding the twins, who are eager for as much ice time as possible. I’d normally hate to sacrifice the minutes played, but this time, I’m happy to let them have it. My knee keeps locking up, and a locked-up knee on the ice could mean jacking up my hips or messing up my good knee. I pull off my helmet as soon as I’m on the bench and reach for a water bottle. Nathan drops down beside me. “You’re off, man,” he says. On the ice, Camden flies past us, then hits the puck to Logan who scores, increasing our lead to three. “We’re winning, aren’t we?” “Not because of anything you’ve done,” Nathan says. I know better than to be insulted by Nathan’s assessment. He won’t mince words to spare my feelings, something I usually appreciate. He knocks his stick against my skate. “Is it your knee?” “I’m fine,” I say, eyes on the game. The other team is in possession now, and Carter and Theo move toward each other, crossing in front of Felix as the opposing offense moves closer. “You aren’t fine,” Nathan says. “And when you aren’t fine, ...

I’m the only player still around when I leave the shower, which is better because when I make it back to my stall in a towel, I find an Appies merch bag sitting on the bench. I peek into the bag enough to see something that looks small and soft and Appies turquoise, but I don’t pull it out. I trust Summer, and I don’t know enough about baby clothes one way or another to have an opinion. I’m sure whatever she picked out is great.

As soon as I’m dressed, I leave the locker room and head down the hall to the Summit’s medical suite. I pass a room on the right where players typically meet their families after games. It’s empty now, except for Dominic, one of the younger guys on the team, who is sitting with his girlfriend in the corner. He played a good game and seems to be celebrating by swallowing her face. A beat of restlessness pushes through me. I don’t fault the guy. Or any of the guys who have wives or serious girlfriends. But I’m getting tired of the reminders that everyone seems to have found someone but me. When Evie straightened my tie this morning, my brain jumped all the way to imagining her here, waiting in this room, wearing an Appies jersey with my name on it. The woman has been in North Carolina less than a week, and I’m already imagining her as my girlfriend. I can’t decide if that makes me really confident or just really pathetic. I think of the merch bag Summer left for me in my stall and wonder if I should take whatever she bought back upstairs to return it.

“Hey, Doc.” Dr. Samuelson is leaning against an exam table, studying an iPad. He looks up and offers me a friendly smile. “I wish I could say I’m happy to see you.” I run a hand across my face as I drop into an empty chair in the corner of the exam room. “Yeah. Same.” “Talk to me about your pain, Alec,” the doctor says. “What are we dealing with?” Fifteen minutes later, I’ve been scolded and humbled and gotten both a cortisone injection and an injection of hyaluronic acid—a combination we’ve never tried before. “I can’t make any promises,” Dr. Samuelson says. “But this might buy us a little time. Just keep me in the loop, all right? And listen to your body. You try to play the hero on that knee, you’re liable to wind up in the OR again.” I nod. “You think I’ll make it to the end of the season?” He frowns. “You want me to be honest here?” “Always.” “Your inflammation is the worst I’ve seen it. Which makes me think you’ll be lucky if you do,” he says. “Alec, it’s time to start thinking about what happens next.”

I sink back into the couch in Alec’s living room and shift Juno from nursing on one side to the other, quickly burping her in between. She yawns before she latches back on, and I notice the perfect bow of her upper lip, shaped just like Devon’s. Stupid, stupid Devon. Months without a message from my ex-husband. Months. Months of living in the same city, of ultrasound visits and prenatal classes and doctors’ appointments. Then, after Juno was born, four more months of living with my parents in White Plains, learning how to be a mom, exhausted and emotional and barely keeping myself together. And through it all, Devon never showed. I was a short train ride away from where he lived in Manhattan, and he never visited. Never laid eyes on his daughter. And now he’s texting me. Now, when I’m living in a different state, trying to start over and move on with my life, he’s texted and said he wants to talk. The message came in an hour ago, and I’ve basically done nothing since. I managed to order dinner delivery, and the TV is on, but the volume is muted, and I haven’t glanced at the screen in ages. I just keep staring at my phone. Reading Devon’s message over and over. Devon Can we talk? Only three words, but they could mean anything. My gut says they probably have something to do with him losing his job. But what does that have to do with me? The thought of finding out for sure makes me feel ill. I don’t want to know because I don’t want him in my life. Juno lifts a hand up and br...