Push (Colorado Storm Hockey #3)

Chapter 17

17

ADALINE

The scent of neroli, a soapier and spicier take on orange blossom, fills the air as I carefully measure out the ingredients for a new Mediterranean-inspired body wash I’ve been experimenting with. The repetitive action of mixing the oils and soap provides a temporary escape from the tumultuous thoughts that have been plaguing me for the past two weeks.

Ever since Nik left my apartment that night, I’ve been stuck in a cycle of anger, hurt, and embarrassment. I can’t believe I let myself fall for him, for the illusion of a connection between us. I should have known better. I should have protected my heart from the start.

For well over a week, I didn’t even open the envelope with the paperwork. I thought that’s what I wanted. That I wanted to end it as quickly as possible. But I was too upset and fell into total avoidance mode. Every time I saw that manila envelope on my nightstand, it weighed on my mind like a heavy stone. Finally, one rainy afternoon, with a cup of steaming tea in hand, I sat down and mustered up the courage to face whatever awaited inside.

As I flipped through the pages, I realized there was an entire questionnaire I had to fill out, including such vital information as my birthday and my middle name.

My birthday.

The husband I let myself pretend to have doesn’t even know my birthday.

It’s not like I know his either. I don’t know the most basic facts about him.

And yet I let him into my bed and became his. I showed him off to my family as if he was mine.

He doesn’t even know my middle name is Evelyn after my great aunt.

How stupidly foolish of me.

That realization knocked me back. I stuffed the papers back into the envelope and avoided it for another whole week. Based on the news around his team’s personal drama and their upcoming start in the playoffs, I didn’t think he was in a rush on his end to get it resolved.

So I avoided it and threw myself into my work, apparently like him, because I haven’t heard from him either since he left my apartment.

I pour the mixture into a small glass bottle, watching as the golden liquid swirls and settles. It’s a blend of neroli essential oil, organic olive oil, Vitamin E, soap base, and distilled water—a combination that promises to nourish and rejuvenate the skin. If only it could do the same for my bruised and battered heart.

As I label the bottle with a steady hand, I hear the door to the workshop creak open. Mallory’s familiar footsteps approach, and I brace myself for her nosy—yet caring—questions that I’ve gotten about every day since Kyla’s wedding.

“Hey, Ada,” she says softly, her voice laced with concern. “How are you holding up?”

I shrug, not looking up from my work. “I’m fine, Mallory. Just trying to keep busy. ”

She leans against the counter, her eyes searching my face. “You don’t have to pretend with me, you know. It’s okay to be upset. Have you heard from Nik yet?”

At the mention of his name, I feel a sharp pang in my chest. I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “No, not yet. And I’m not upset,” I lie, my voice sounding unconvincing even to my own ears. “I’m just angry at myself for being so stupid.”

Mallory reaches out and places a comforting hand on my arm. “You’re not stupid, Ada. You followed your heart. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

I finally meet her gaze, my eyes stinging with unshed tears. “But look where it got me, Mallory. I married a stranger in Vegas, let myself believe that there could be something real between us, and then he goes and calls out his ex-wife’s name in the middle of... you know.”

Mallory nods, her expression sympathetic. “I know, honey. It’s a shitty situation. But you can’t blame yourself for his actions. He’s the one who messed up, not you.”

“We both know that’s not true. I pushed it by inviting him to the wedding.” I sigh, setting down the bottle and running a hand through my hair. “I just feel so foolish. I should have known better than to get caught up in the fantasy of it all. I mean, who gets married to someone they just met and expects it to work out?”

“People do crazy things when they’re caught up in the moment,” Mallory says, her tone understanding. “It doesn’t make you foolish, it makes you human.”

I give her a small, grateful smile. “Thanks. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

She grins, squeezing my arm gently. “That’s what best friends are for. Now, tell me more about this new body wash you’re working on. It smells divine.”

As I launch into an explanation of the ingredients and their benefits, I feel a small weight lift from my shoulders. Talking to Mallory always helps, even if it can’t erase the pain entirely.

But as we chat and work side by side, my mind keeps drifting back to the unsigned annulment papers sitting on my nightstand. I had been so eager to put this whole mess behind me, to move on with my life and forget about Nik Huxley. Truthfully, when I realized he hadn’t signed his part of the papers, a very tiny, traitorous part of me felt a flicker of hope.

Maybe he isn’t ready to let go, either. Maybe there is still a chance...

No. I shake my head, pushing the thought away. I can’t let myself go down that road again. Nik made his feelings clear when he called out Debbie’s name. He’s not over his ex-wife, and I refuse to be a consolation prize.

I check my phone again to see if he’s texted me back about arranging a time for him to sign them. I don’t know why I would expect him to. I think the Storm are playing tonight in the playoffs.

As Mallory and I continue working on the new body wash, there’s a knock at the back door. I glance at the clock, not sure who it could be at this hour.

“I’ll check it out,” Mallory offers, wiping her hands on a towel.

She looks through the peephole and then opens the door with a smile. A familiar face stands on the other side. “Look who stopped by!” she announces.

George comes in, a friendly smile on his face and his soft brown eyes taking both Mallory and me in. “Hey, ladies. I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Not at all,” I reply, trying to muster up some enthusiasm. “We were just finishing up a new product.”

George nods, his eyes scanning the workshop with interest. He’s wearing a windbreaker, jeans, and sneakers that make him look two decades older than his 40 years. “That’s great. You’re always so busy creating new things.”

Mallory smiles, a hint of pride in her voice. “She’s our mad scientist.”

“So, what brings you by?” I ask, steering the conversation back on track.

George shrugs, his hands in his pockets. “Just wanted to say hi, see how you both are doing.”

I nod and keep it simple. “I’m doing well. Thanks for asking.”

“Same here,” Mallory says with a genuine smile.

Suddenly, the back door bursts open again, and my brother Mark strides in, a grin on his face. “Hey, everyone! I’ve got a great idea.”

We all turn to him, curious.

“There’s a trivia night at the new brewery down the street. Why don’t we all go?” he suggests.

Mallory glances at George, then back at me. “That sounds like fun. What do you think, Ada?”

I hesitate, not sure if I’m in the mood for a social outing. But as I see the hopeful looks on their faces, I realize that maybe a distraction is exactly what I need.

“Okay, I’m in,” I agree.

Mark claps his hands together. “Great! This will be so fun.”

“I don’t remember the last time I saw you this enthusiastic, Mark. What’s his name and what does he do there?” I ask.

“His name is Floyd, he’s a bartender, and just my type,” my brother provides all too easily. My dad and I have always agreed that my brother has eternal heart eyes. No one puts pressure on Mark about marriage, because he’s been visibly on the hunt for a husband for ages.

As we make our way to the brewery, Mark and Mallory are a few steps ahead joking with one another, giving George the chance to fall in step beside me. He isn’t terribly tall, nothing like Nik in that way. “So, Addy, how’s it going with your hockey player?”

I feel a lump form in my throat, and I swallow hard. “Oh, you know, he’s busy with the playoffs. We haven’t had much of a chance to talk lately.”

I force a smile, grateful that only Mallory knows the truth about our breakup.

George nods, oblivious to the pain hidden behind my words. “Makes sense. I bet he’s focused on the game. I never took you for the type of woman that would go for an athlete.”

I chuckle, the sound hollow even to me. “Yeah, well, neither did I.” But as we step into the brewery and the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses wash over us, I realize that maybe a night of trivia and beer is exactly what I need. A distraction from the constant ache in my chest, a chance to be just Ada, not the woman who got swept up in a whirlwind romance that crashed and burned.

The trivia night kicks off with Mallory eagerly leading our team, George being his usual know-it-all self and trading jabs with Mallory as they go back and forth on the answers, and Mark going up to the bar time and time again to flirt with Floyd, I relax for the first time in two weeks. The questions are distracting, the competition fierce, and the beer is numbing. For a few hours, I forget about annulment papers and unspoken feelings and just enjoy the company of my friends.

As we walk back toward my shop without Mark, who stayed behind, Mallory and George are squabbling about our second-place finish.

“You took way too long to answer that last question. We could’ve had bonus points if you just trusted your gut,” George argues.

“Was it your gut that told you to answer Sydney instead of Canberra before we could even discuss it?” she fights back. “Plus, I totally carried that pop culture round. Seriously, George, how did you not know about Taylor’s situationship with Matty Healy? Were you living under a rock that summer?”

“I’m sorry if I’m more concerned about my own love life than Taylor Swift’s,” he bites back and then glances over at me.

In a group setting, George is fine to have around. But every now and again I get that vibe from him that he would like for us to become something more than friends.

“It’s Taylor’s world, George. We just live in it,” Mallory proclaims and pats him on the back.

“True dat,” I reply and consider going directly upstairs and putting on her latest album to get lost in some of her devastating lyrics so I can reconnect to all of my Nik despair. Not that I need sad songs to do that. All I need is to breathe.

We arrive at my building and George stands by as I unlock the shop for Mallory and me. We need to go in and close things up properly.

“Good luck to your boyfriend, Addy,” George says.

And Mallory’s eyebrows raise heavenward and looks between us. Based on the confused look on his face, he’s picked up on her expression.

“Nik and I aren’t dating anymore,” I tell him.

“Oh, I thought?—”

“Yeah, no, it didn’t work out. I just haven’t told my family yet.”

“Got it,” he says with a nod and then pulls his lips between his teeth. It turns into a small smile as he looks at the two of us. “Well, goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Georgie,” Mallory says and I just nod and lead her into the shop. “He cracks me up.”

“George cracks you up?” I ask as I lock up the shop door.

“You don’t find him funny?”

“I mean, he’s fine. I wouldn’t call him Shecky or anything.”

“Your family has the weirdest sayings. What does Shecky even mean? ”

“Shecky Green? That super old comedian from years ago? Makes perfect sense,” I tell her with a laugh.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she says and then sighs. “All I do know is that it was good to see you get out of your workshop and back into real life a little bit. We should do that again next week. George said he was down.”

“No, not you too,” I say. “Please tell me you’re not trying to set us up.”

Mallory shakes her head quickly and gets a little defensive. “No, that’s not it at all. I’m?—”

“Good,” I cut her off. “Because you’re the only person I know that isn’t trying to marry me off to the guy.”

“Well, good thing bigamy is illegal, since it seems like you’re never going to get your marriage annulled.”

“This week. I promise,” I tell her. And then repeat it for myself. “This week.”

The familiar scent of cardamon and cinnamon greets me as I step into Teta Lena’s house. Usually, at this time of day, she is bustling around the kitchen, preparing some dinner while humming a jazz standard. But today, an unsettling silence hangs in the air.

“Teta?” I once again have to call out for her. And once again there is worry in my voice.

“In here, habibti,” her voice comes from the bedroom, weaker than I’ve ever heard it.

I make my way to her room, my heart sinking as I find her propped up in bed, her face rather pale and drawn. She lifts the remote weakly and mutes the TV. She manages a small smile as I enter, patting the space beside her.

“Come, sit with me,” she says .

I settle next to her, taking her hand in mine. It feels frailer than I remember. Her skin feels more delicate.

“Teta, what’s wrong? Are you feeling ill?”

She sighs, a weariness in her eyes that I’ve never seen before. “Nothing for you to worry about, habibti. The doctor says I need to rest when I can. Something about my heart being weaker with age.”

A lump forms in my throat, and I squeeze her hand gently. “Oh, Teta... I had no idea.”

“I just have to save my strength.” She looks around the room, a wistful expression on her face. “It’s hard, being still when there’s so much to do around the house.”

I nod, blinking back the tears that threaten to fall. “I understand. But you need to take care of yourself, Teta. We’ll cover it for you. We all want you around for as long as possible.”

She smiles, reaching up to cup my cheek with her free hand. “Enough about me, habibti. Tell me, how are things with you and Nikolas?”

At the mention of his name, I feel a sharp pang in my chest. I’ve been dreading this conversation, knowing how much Teta liked Nik and how happy she was to see me with someone.

“Teta...” I begin, my voice trembling slightly. “Nik and I…we’re not going to make it after all.”

Her brow furrows, concern etched into the lines of her face. “What happened, Ada? You two seemed so happy at the wedding.”

I take a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. “It’s complicated. We both have a lot of baggage, and we realized maybe we rushed into things too quickly.”

Teta is quiet for a moment, her eyes searching mine. “I’m sorry to hear that. I really thought he could be the one for you.”

I shake my head, a sad smile tugging at my lips. “I know you want to see me settled. But times are different now. I don’t need a husband to be happy. I have my work, my friends, my family. I’m content on my own.”

She sighs, a mix of understanding and concern in her eyes. “I know you are a strong, independent woman, Ada. And I’m so proud of all that you’ve accomplished. But as you get older, the days will get lonelier. Believe me, I know.”

I listen intently, sensing the wisdom in her words.

“A life partner, even if the marriage isn’t perfect, can bring a sense of security and companionship that’s hard to find elsewhere,” she continues, her voice soft but firm. “Your jedo and I, we had our struggles, but we always had each other to lean on. That bond, and commitment, it carried us through the hardest times.”

I feel a tear slip down my cheek, moved by the depth of emotion in her words. “I understand, Teta. And I want that, I do. But I can’t force it. I can’t settle for something that doesn’t feel right in my heart.”

She nods, a glimmer of pride in her eyes. “Of course not, habibti. You should never settle. But don’t close yourself off to the possibility of love, either. Sometimes, it comes when we least expect it.”

I lean in, resting my head on her shoulder. “I’ll keep that in mind. I promise.”

“Don’t waste time, Adaline. Consider George. I’ll rest so much easier, knowing that you’ll have someone to take care of you when the times get tough.”

I don’t reply how I usually do, because for the first time I am honestly willing to consider it. Teta has never been wrong. I trust her with every bit of my being. Why can’t I just try? Why do I have to be so damn stubborn about it? Maybe it’s not as bad as I always imagined it to be.

George has his good traits, like his steady job as an accountant. He has a very nice family that gets along well with ours. He’s handsome enough, even with his thinning hair, but his strong jaw makes up for it.

But it’s still George. I simply do not feel any type of way about him romantically. Even as friends, we don’t have that much in common. He gets along much better with Mallory. I truly don’t even understand what he likes about me. And if it hadn’t been my family in my ear for years about him, I may not have ever thought of him at all unless he was standing right in front of me.

Teta and I sit there for a while, the silence between us filled with an understanding, the TV going on as if my heart isn’t breaking for my Teta’s weakening heart. And as the setting sun filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room, I feel like I came so close to having it all with Nik. I could have made not only my grandmother happy, but myself, too. But that’s no longer an option. And so there’s only one thing to do. Put on my big girl britches, sign the papers, and track down Nik to sign them too.

“Plus, I always thought George was Shecky,” Teta adds on suddenly.

“Not you too,” I say and laugh. “I just don’t think he’s that funny. Mallory thinks he’s hilarious.”

“It’s all about perspective, habibti,” she says and then turns up the volume on the TV.