Crew (Hockey Royalty #3)

23. Liv

Chapter 23

Liv

I glance at Dylan who is occupied with his giant plastic dump truck, sitting on the AstroTurf-covered patio and making dump truck sounds with his little mouth. I take the moment to glance at my phone again. The family group chat has been blowing up since I made my little announcement. All I wrote was Morning Gang. New boyfriend alert: I'm dating Crew Westwood. K Thx Bye!

There’s been a tsunami of texts ever since. So many I had to completely turn my phone off during classes this morning. I pull up the group chat now and scan over the texts.

Callie: I am so happy for you baby! Crew is good people. But if that changes let me know and I will knock him over the head with something.

Uncle J: She’s not kidding. Trust me.

Uncle Luc: She isn't kidding. Anyway, happy if you're happy kiddo.

Auntie Rose: Avery and Steph are such lovely people, I’m sure Crew is a fine man. Yay for love.

Harlow: Relax Mom they just started dating. Do NOT throw around the L word.

Theo: Now I know who to target on the ice when we play the Quake next week. Gotta show Westwood we’ve got your back.

Grady: I already did that when he told me.

Shelby: Happy for u Livvy! Is his twin single?

Uncle Cole: You really wanna date a guy on the other side of the country?

Shelby: I didn’t say anything about dating.

Uncle Cole: I am going to delete this entire conversation from my brain now.

Tate: We will chat when I get home Liv.

Oh… that one is foreboding.

And oddly, not a word from Tenley. I haven’t been home to talk to her in person about this so I hope she’s there when I’m done watching Dylan. I glance down at my little monster who is rolling the dump truck toward the rattan coffee table and making noises I’m sure he thinks are engine noises.

My phone buzzes again but this time it’s not the group chat. It’s my boyfriend. A smile blooms as I open his text.

Crew: Wanna come over when you’re done at Tate’s? Would love to see you.

Liv: Sure. Ten has our car but if you don’t mind driving me back to WeHo later I’m in.

Crew: I can do that. Tomorrow morning.

I smile so big it’s ridiculous.

Liv: I’ll be by around eight.

Crew responds with a thumbs up and I put my phone in my pocket and get down on the ground with Dylan who has moved from the truck to the ukulele I bought him. “Ba-da-ba-ba!” He wails happily like he thinks he’s Kid Laroi or something.

“You might skip hockey and be the first Garrison pop star,” I tell him and he grins at me.

* * *

Hours later, I’m settling Dylan in his room for the night when the door to his room creeks open behind me and I jump, my heart lurching into my throat.

"It's me!" I turn and see Tate standing there, arms up like he's in a robbery. "Sorry, I thought you heard the front door."

I press a hand to my chest, my heart thundering. “I didn’t. I…”

I can't finish that sentence. There is not enough air in my lungs or this room. I move away from Dylan's bed as he yells "Da!” and lift his arms toward Tate who scoops him up and kisses his cheek.

I walk out of the room, make my way downstairs, and into the back yard where I stare at the stars and listen to the canal water tapping Tate and Mallory's paddle boat, and force long, slow breaths into my lungs. A few minutes later, Tate walks out to join me.

“Sorry,” I say. “Did you get Dyllie down okay?”

“Yep. He’s out,” Tate replies and watches me intently. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I was startled.”

“That’s an intense reaction for startled,” Tate notes and I feel judgment from him, which I don’t like one bit.

“Remember when we were kids and there was a bat in the barn gym,” I say as I recall the building on his parents’ property that they converted into a gym for off-season workouts. “You were the one who discovered it and it swooped down at your face and you freaked out for weeks afterward when anything flew by you, from a moth to a sparrow?”

“I was nine.”

“Yeah and I was physically assaulted,” I remind him. “That’s gonna take a minute to get over. I am not abnormal.”

“I never said you were abnormal,” Tate replies, his shoulders tense as he gets defensive. “I think jumping at noises or unexpected things is very normal after what you went through. I don’t know if sleeping with a freshly divorced, anti-relationship hockey player on a random trip to Vegas would be considered normal though.”

It’s like Tate just dropped an anvil on my head. I take a sharp breath and my exhale is shaky. “He told you about Vegas?”

“He didn’t have to,” Tate explains. “I ran into him that morning when I went back for my wallet. He was on our floor in a woman’s hoodie. I didn’t know at the time it was your hoodie and he was leaving our suite, but I’m not an idiot and it was easy to piece together once he said he met you in Vegas.”

“He’s been divorced for a year so I wouldn’t call that fresh,” I argue. “And we are dating now, his idea FYI so I wouldn’t call him anti-relationship anymore.”

“Does he know? What happened to you?”

“No. And I don’t see why he has to,” I mutter. Tate frowns and it makes me sigh. “Look, I will admit that maybe the whole reason I ended up with Crew the first time was because I was responding to trauma. However now it’s something else. At the moment I see it as a bright spot, the only good thing that came out of this random attack I had to endure. That I’m still enduring until the asshole’s trial happens.”

Tate scratches the hair at the back of his neck and hangs his head a little. "Look, he's my best friend so I have to look out for him too. I need to know this isn't just a distraction for you because he's been really fucked over by a woman before and if you do it too…”

"Tate, do you realize who you're talking to?" I demand, exasperated. "I was going for a one-night stand, trying to be like you, or Tenley, or my mom. But I fell for Crew, okay? I’m not going to hurt him.”

“I don’t think you will,” Tate agrees but then adds, “On purpose. I just think someone with unresolved trauma might not be thinking clearly. And you even trying to have a one night stand when all you’ve ever talked about is the perfect romantic relationship, is a sign that?—”

“I’m done having this conversation." I flip up my hand, palm out to get him to shut up, and then storm past him, back into the house where I grab my book bag and purse before heading to the door.

“Wait! I have to drive you, remember?”

“I’ll walk.”

“You can’t walk to West Hollywood from here, Livvy.”

“I’m walking to my boyfriend’s.” I slam the door behind me.

Anger has me halfway to Crew’s house before I realize it’s dark out. I’m on a side street with no streetlights and I never texted him to say I was on my way. When the reality of my situation starts to take hold, the anger gives way to fear. I want to pull out my phone to text Crew, but I don’t want to appear distracted. I keep my eyes up, scan the street, and make my way over a block to the main drag of Abbott Kinney.

There will be lights there and also people. Maybe some sketchy people but also patrons on patios and people to hear me scream if I have to. I started watching YouTube self-defense videos and so I dig my keys out of my pocket and wedge each one between my knuckles, even the stupid little mailbox key. A man is approaching, he’s got his hood up and his head down so I move as close to the edge of the sidewalk as possible. I would rather jump into the street if he tries to grab me than be shoved into one of the dark doorways of the closed shops.

He doesn't even glance at me as he bustles by so that's good, but my nerves are fraying more and more with every person I pass and every sound I don't expect, like a dog barking at the end of an alley and a car horn a block over. By the time I see the corner of Crew's gated complex, I start to sprint. The security guard gives me a strange look from inside his box as I get to the gate and lean on it for support.

“I’m… I have the code. I just need a minute to…”

“Olivia!” Crew appears on the other side of the gate and he hits a button on a remote and the gate gently hums as it opens.

He’s standing there in just a pair of shorts and a white t-shirt but he’s never looked more gorgeous to me. I have never wanted to see a familiar face so badly. I slip through the barely open gate and hug him. He wraps his arms around me and I finally take a deep breath, sucking air into my lungs like I’ve been holding my breath. Maybe I have. And why are my eyes watering?

He kisses the top of my head. “Tate called and said you took off on him. He was freaking out about you walking to my place.”

“I’m fine. I did it,” I say, wishing I sounded confident. Wishing I felt confident that the little trip felt like a milestone, but it didn’t. I don’t ever want to do that again.

“Honey, can you tell me what’s going on?” His voice is so soft and gentle.

I look up at him just as a hot wet tear slips down my cheek and he cups my face and wipes it away with the pad of his thumb. “Hey. Hey. You’re okay. You’re always okay with me.”

“I know,” I croak out and let him turn us and, with an arm wrapped tightly around my shoulders, he walks us back to his place.

Once we get there, he closes the door behind us and guides me around all the half-packed boxes to his sofa. I drop down onto it easily because my legs are sick of holding me up apparently. He smooths my hair, tucking it behind my ears and then he kisses me again, this time on the forehead. "Olivia, you can tell me anything."

“Okay.” I sniff and take a few deep breaths. “But I don’t want to. Not right this instant.”

He looks taken aback by that and I feel bad but I can’t stand the idea of him looking at me the way Tenley and Tate do, like I’m even more of a timid little baby than they thought I was. Plus Crew is a smart man, he’ll look at the timeline from the attack and think that me sleeping with him was simply me using him to get rid of my virginity and he would be right. But that’s not what it is now and what if he doesn’t believe me when I say that part. What if he thinks I used him? He already admitted he doesn’t trust women and this isn’t going to help that.

Crew gets off the couch and I watch him head into the kitchen. He comes back holding a drink in a blue labeled bottle. Wait, the bottle isn’t blue. The drink is. “I tried your wet grass latte, now it’s your turn to try my drink,” Crew says. “It’s an iced caffeine-free lavender latte. I drink them at night when I can’t turn my brain off.”

I stare at it as I open the cap and it makes a popping sound. I take a tiny sip. I’ve never drank lavender before but it’s delicious. “Not bad. And chai lattes aren’t wet grass.”

He gives me a small grin. “Are you up for drinking that on the road?”

“Yeah. Where are we going?”

He doesn't respond. He just holds out his hand, so I take it, and the next thing I know we're in his car, driving toward West Hollywood. So I do what any inexperienced woman new to relationships and recently traumatized would do—I jump to conclusions. "Are you taking me home already? I thought… you said morning. I know I'm a bit of a disaster tonight but I fought with Tate. Are you really ditching me?"

“No. I’m not ditching you,” Crew replies calmly as he drives down Santa Monica Boulevard toward my house. “But I have to be a bit worried you have something big you won’t share with me. I know sexual relationships are new to you, but romantic ones aren’t, right?”

"Yeah, I've had boyfriends before."

“So did you lie to them too?”

“There’s a difference between lying and working things out on my own,” I argue. “I know that this isn’t something you ever thought you’d do again—date—and so why in the world would I emotionally vomit all my baggage on you and potentially make you regret your decision?”

“This sounds like, and looks like, a pretty big deal Olivia,” Crew says calmly as he turns left on Crescent Heights, towards Laurel Canyon, instead of continuing on to my street a few blocks away. "You showed up tonight pale as a ghost and barely breathing. Like you were in the throes of a panic attack. That's something you should share with the guy who sees you naked regularly."

“I have much to learn, apparently,” I say a little bitterly because I am sick of feeling like everyone knows more than me. My own fault, but still.

“I think I’ve proven myself to be a pretty good teacher, though.” I glance over at him and he gives me a cheeky grin as he takes a left on Lookout Mountain and now my curiosity levels are through the roof.

“Where are we going?”

"I told you, I'm looking for a new house," Crew explains as I take another sip of the blue drink. "I was driving the realtor crazy because I've seen every house in Venice and the surrounding area and I don't have the urge to even make an offer on any of them. She has been asking me to branch out and try new areas. So after our day at the Laurel Canyon Store, I started to poke around listings here."

He slows right before arguably the most iconic house in the Canyon, at least still standing, and turns onto Stanley Hills Drive. I swivel my head to look back and try and catch a glimpse of the famous house. “Joni Mitchell lives right over there.”

He hooks a right into the first driveway and gravity pushes me back in the plush leather seat as we climb. “Well, this place caught my eye and I came to see it with the agent. I really like it so I asked if I could come see it at night and get the vibe after dark. The agent gave me the keys since it’s empty.”

“Real Estate agents do that?”

"Maybe not with just anyone but with a relatively famous local athlete with a five million, all-cash budget, yeah. It happens." Crew rolls the car to a stop and I peer out the windshield at the beige stucco beauty in front of us.

“Is this a Spanish or…” I climb out of the car and catch sight of the turret with the oblong windows peppered like dominos across it. “Something else?”

“The agent referred to it as a Spanish Victorian. She said it was built in the mid-sixties and that the architect was experimental, like everyone who lived here back then.”

Crew reaches for my hand again and I gladly give it to him. For the next twenty minutes, I am in silent awe as he unlocks the front door of the house and guides me through, explaining what he’s been told about the features of each room. The house is amazing. Inside are wood beams colorful tile floors and pale stucco walls. There's an amazing, huge patio off the back that Crew says he'll install a cold plunge and a hot tub on as well as a grill for barbecues. He walks back in and stands in the middle of the den. I lead him over to the wall of windows and point. You can just see the tips of the forest green-colored house. "Joni Mitchell's house. The woman is an icon. This place is a dream and it's right in the middle of history."

"Well, now I really have to buy it.” Crew moves to stand behind me and wraps his big arms around my shoulders. I lean against his chest and whether it’s the drink I consumed, or him, I feel grounded and calm for the first time since I left Tate’s house. “Joni is Canadian you know. We can make this the Canadian block of the Canyon.”

I laugh. “Rumor is she’s never really here anymore. Spends most of her time back in Canada.”

“And you?” he asks quietly. “You running back to Maine when school is done?”

“Nope. California has better schools for the kind of teaching I want to do right now,” I reply. “And I’m happy here. When hockey is over you running back to Canada?”

“Hell no. I mean, thankfully that’s about a decade away,” Crew says, squeezing me a little tighter. “I love Canada but I don’t really know if I’ll move back. We’ll see what happens next when this career ends. I’m open to anything.”

His words hit me because he really has been open, and fearless, in following this thing between us wherever it went. And now here he is, trusting me with his feelings, letting me into his life when he swore he wouldn't let anyone else in, and I’m shutting him out.

I tip my head back against his wide chest and the words tumble out of my mouth much easier than I’d ever thought possible. I tell him about the attack. About how I’m still confused as to why it happened and what his goal had been. I explain how bruised up I was, how scared it made me, and how lucky I was that my punch connected and that couple jumped in when they did.

It feels good spilling my guts. It’s like I’m shedding weight I didn’t know I was carrying with every word. By the time I stop talking I feel lighter. Crew kisses my temple and whispers, “I wish I could kill the guy.”

“Get in line. Tate’s first.” I sigh. “I’m just lucky he’s going to be prosecuted so he doesn’t attack someone else. I am freaking out about having to face him but I have to testify because he's trying to deny the charges. Did you know half of these types of cases get off because the courts are so clogged and either a witness doesn't show up or they get time served because the prisons are too crowded?"

“What are you going to do if his sentence is time served?” Crews wants to know and I shrug my shoulders because I don’t have an answer.

He moves and turns me in his arms. We’re face-to-face now. “Thank you for finally confiding in me.”

I tip my head so our lips can connect in a brief but sweet kiss. "I told Tate something tonight that I didn't realize was true until I said it. The one good thing that came out of this ordeal was you and me. I wouldn't have gone to Vegas, hell-bent on losing my virginity, if that monster hadn't tried to jump me. And I'm very glad I did."

“I am too, but I still wish that had never happened to you.” He kisses me, longer and deeper than the time before. “You still up for a sleepover?”

I nod but I’m fighting a yawn. “I might actually just sleep though. That drink relaxed me a little too much. I’m exhausted.”

He wraps an arm around my shoulder and guides me to the front door. "That's not just the drink, it's your adrenaline dropping," he explains as he pauses to snap the lockbox on the door back into place as we make our way down the stone path to the drive. “It’s okay, we’ll go straight to bed, for sleep only tonight. And then in the morning, I can be your first-morning sex."

“Another first?” I say, acting both shocked and annoyed. “When will it ever end?”

“I’m hoping never, Fireball.” He chuckles as he lets go of me to open my car door.

I like the sound of that more than I care to admit. But I can think of one first I don’t want to experience with Crew, a first big breakup. But I feel so solid in this thing with him now that I doubt that will happen. I’ve told him my big secret and he’s still here, still holding my hand, still making me feel like a queen. His queen.

All is right with the world.