Empty Net (Seattle Serpents)
Empty Net: Chapter 3

I don’t know why I asked Lilah to dance. I just know something in her eyes made me sad, and I felt she needed comfort.

Perhaps it was how her shoulders hunched inward when she mentioned her mother, or maybe it was how she guzzled down that glass of champagne, clutching it like a lifeline. I guess it could have just been that she looks gorgeous tonight, I’ve had too many drinks already, and I want to do something other than stand around and rehash how the season is going. She could clearly use a distraction, and so could I.

We reach the empty dance floor, and I sweep her into my arms like it’s a practiced routine, settling my hand on her hip and leaving an appropriate distance between us. The deejay plays something soft and slow from the ’90s as we box-step around the floor.

Lilah peeks up at me through her lashes, her blue eyes glassy from the champagne that’s flowing freely. “You dance so…”

“Professionally?”

“Stiffly.”

She laughs when my eyebrows rise in surprise, as no one has ever said that to me before, especially not my dance teacher from when I was eleven. Lilah inches closer until we’re pressed together, her body curved against mine as we continue to move in sync.

“Much better,” she says, so close now I can smell her perfume, something light and floral that I don’t mind one bit. “Where’d you learn to dance?”

“If you can believe it—and you might not be able to with your criticisms—I took lessons when I was younger.”

“Oh, I believe it, Southern boy. You dance like you’re at a church event, not a party with a bunch of depraved hockey players in attendance.”

“We aren’t depraved.”

She arches a dark brow at me. “I’ve met your teammates, remember?”

I laugh lightly. “Fair enough. Not all of us are depraved.”

“It’s okay to be depraved in some ways.” She grins mischievously, her fingers playing at the collar of my suit.

I’m all too aware of what she means by her words, just like I’m all too aware of how good her body feels pressed against mine…how close my hand is to the curve of her ass, how my fingertips keep just barely brushing against the soft skin poking through the cutouts of her dress.

I ignore it all, instead focusing on moving us to the rhythm of the music. Another couple joins us, then another, and it’s like once the gates have opened, here comes the flood as more people filter in beside us. Auden drags over a reluctant Hutch, and Hayes and Quinn pass by us, looking like two heart-eye emojis come to life. Lawson is literally on his knees, begging Rory to dance, but she’s shaking her head adamantly while Keller chirps him like we’re on the bench. I laugh at that, and Lilah turns her attention to them, too.

“She loves messing with him,” she remarks.

“I think he might love it too.”

“Probably.” She shakes her head. “It’s funny. I remember when Rory swore up and down there was no way she would ever fall in love. Auden too, actually. Now look at them both—completely smitten with no hope.” She snorts. “Fools.”

“Fools?” I ask, surprised she has such an outlook about her friends.

She turns her attention back to me. “Don’t get me wrong—I’m happy for them. Truly. I just think the whole concept of love and relationships is…well, frankly, it’s bullshit.”

I nod. “Ah.”

She bristles, our steps faltering as she goes rigid in my grasp. “Ah? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means ah.”

“Not when you say it like that, it doesn’t.”

“Nothing bad. You just sound a lot like those same exact guys who swore relationships were terrible before getting into one. Now look at them—happy and in love.”

“Oh. Well, yeah, I guess I do.” She shrugs as we continue to sway. “Sorry. Ignore me. I’m in a bit of a mood tonight.”

“Your mother?” I guess.

She nods but doesn’t elaborate. Her eyes are latched on to the bowtie around my neck as she stares through me, and tightness tugs at my chest. She looks so sad, and I hate it. I hate to think the one person who is supposed to love her and treat her with respect no matter what has upset her like this, especially tonight after she’s worked so hard to put together this incredible party. The night’s been tainted by her mother.

“She keeps trying to set me up, and I don’t want any part of it,” she confesses after several quiet moments.

“Because you don’t believe in love?”

“No, because her date options suck.”

I chuckle. “Makes sense. Is that why you told her you’re seeing someone even though you aren’t?”

“How do you know I’m not?” she challenges, tipping her chin up defiantly.

I lift a shoulder. “We talk in the locker room sometimes. I overhear things from Hutch.” She looks worried by that momentarily. “All good, though. Promise.”

It’s true. All Hutch has said about Lilah is that he hopes she isn’t going down the same road he was before he met Auden, a road of loneliness and bitterness.

“I know I shouldn’t have lied to her, but she wants me to have a date for my father’s birthday party next weekend, and I panicked because…let’s just say the last guy she set me up with was not it.”

She sighs, and I agree. She shouldn’t have lied to her mother, but I can understand why she did. As much as I love my own, I wouldn’t want her setting me up on dates either.

“Whatever,” she mumbles. “I’ll replace someone.”

I have no doubt she will, someone as beautiful as her, but there’s still something bothering her, something else. I don’t know what exactly, so I take a guess.

“Your mother is wrong.”

“What?” She pulls back to look up at me. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. I get the feeling she said something else, and I just thought you should know she’s wrong.”

“You don’t even know what she said.”

“No, but I know you.” I tug her closer, my hand splayed across her lower back as I drop my lips to her ear. I want these words to just be for her. “You’re kind and funny and put together this party when you have no investment in this team other than just being a really good friend to the captain’s girlfriend, all while looking absolutely fucking stunning in that dress. So, she’s wrong, Lilah. Whatever she said, she’s wrong.”

Her steps falter again, and I catch her, keeping her on pace and not missing how she doesn’t respond.

Did I fuck up? Was complimenting her taking it too far? Is she completely weirded out now that I’ve said she looks stunning? I don’t want to take it back because it’s true. The way her dress is molded to her body should be illegal. And that slit on the side? The one that reveals just enough to make you wonder what’s underneath? It’s making me think things I definitely shouldn’t be thinking, especially when it comes to Lilah.

But her silence is killing me, and I don’t know how long passes before I blurt out, “Did I say something wrong?”

When she peeks up at me, a light laugh falls from her lips. Her eyes are no longer glassy from the booze; they’re glassy from unshed tears.

“No, you didn’t. You said everything right.”

“Oh.”

Another soft laugh as she settles further into my embrace, her head resting on my chest, her hair tickling my chin. “You’re a really good guy, Fox, you know that?” she says quietly, her breath warm against me, and for the second time since I tugged her into my arms, I blush.

I’ve heard a lot of people say I’m a nice guy. Hell, my teammates were just teasing me about it earlier this evening, but coming from Lilah at this moment? I don’t know. It’s good to hear.

The song shifts from slow and romantic to a much more upbeat tune, and just as quickly as the music changes, Lilah breaks away from me, leaving my arms limp at my sides and a sudden desire to drag her back to me.

I tip my head at her. “What?”

“I…” She shakes her head. “Thanks for the dance, Fox.”

Then she turns and pushes through the crowd, vanishing right before my eyes.

Wait. What?

“Lilah!” I call out, trying to reach for her, but it’s useless when everyone around us is already throwing their hands up and shouting as the song instructs.

It feels like prom 2.0 in here. Everyone is suddenly on the floor, nobody aware that Lilah just pulled the fastest disappearing trick of the century, and I’m stuck standing here staring after a ghost.

Lawson jerks me back to reality, grabbing me by the shoulders and tugging me into the mix of dancers. I reluctantly follow him, still glancing out to see where Lilah fled. I can’t see her anywhere now. She’s gone, fading into the crowd and slipping away, the sight of her eyes brimming with tears burned into my mind as Lawson grabs my shoulders, giving me a shake.

“Come on, dude!” he yells. “Dance! New Year, New Year, New Year!”

His chanting is ridiculous, but his excitement is contagious, and I replace myself shaking my head, joining in with him anyway. We dance through the song, then another and another, and soon, I have no idea what time it is, just that my mouth is dry and I might die of thirst if I don’t get something to drink soon. I point to the bar, letting Lawson know I’m leaving, and he shakes his head.

“I’m good!” he yells.

I laugh. I wasn’t asking, but whatever. I push through the crowd and make my way back to where my night began: the bar. The bartender remembers me, already starting on a vodka soda, and I nod my thanks. I can’t help but scan the crowd, looking for a silver dress and cerulean eyes.

“Let me guess, you’re looking for Lilah.”

I turn to replace Locke beside me, holding my drink in one hand and his own glass in the other. I was so distracted I didn’t even realize the bartender set my order on the bar.

“Thanks,” I say, accepting the booze. “How’d you know?”

He shrugs, taking a sip of what I assume is scotch since it’s his go-to drink whenever we hang out at Top Shelf, the local hockey-themed bar we tend to frequent. “Don’t know. Saw you two dancing and took a guess. I wasn’t aware you were the dancing sort of friends.”

“Just felt like dancing is all.”

He nods but doesn’t look like he believes me, and I don’t believe me either.

“She looks good,” he remarks.

“Hmm” is my only response. She did look good, but I can’t stop thinking about how she peeked up at me like she was seconds away from crying when all I did was speak the truth. It has me curious as hell to know what it was her mother said to her that had her so upset.

“Who are we talking about?” Keller, easily the grumpiest person I’ve ever met, slides up next to us with a beer bottle in his hand, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else than here. He rests his back against the bar, looking at the dance floor with a sneer. “Look at those fucking idiots, all hopelessly in love and shit. Fools.”

I laugh because it’s exactly what Lilah said about them and maybe even something I could have said once upon a time, but not anymore. Now, when I look out at Hutch, Lawson, and Hayes with their girlfriends, all I see is something pure and happy, and that same pang of wanting hits me again.

I shove it down like I always do.

“Remind me why I agreed to come to this thing again?” Keller grumbles.

“Because you know it’s important to your captain,” Locke tells him.

Keller grunts in response, taking another swig from his beer.

“What time is it?” he asks. “I want to get out of here before midnight so I don’t have to see everyone making out with one another.”

I pluck my phone from my pocket to tell him and am shocked when I see the time and the missed calls. It’s ten o’clock—I missed calling my parents at midnight their time. Shit. Luckily, I know they’re still awake even though it’s one in the morning there.

“I’ll be right back,” I mutter to the guys as Locke lays into Keller about turning over a new leaf in the new year and being a better teammate like the good veteran hockey guy he is.

I slip past them and through the crowd, pushing open the doors to the balcony, shivering when the cold wind hits me. Although I’ve lived in Seattle for a few years, I’m still not used to the Pacific Northwest winters. This is especially true after growing up down south, where I think I saw a collective two inches of snow my entire childhood.

I settle onto a bench tucked back into a corner, as far away from the party’s noise as possible, and hit the video call icon before taking another sip of my vodka soda. My mother’s face fills the screen almost instantly, and I grin.

“Hey, Mama.”

“Don’t you Hey, Mama me, Arthur Francis Fox.” Her eyes are narrowed. “You’re late.”

“I’m sorry. I got distracted.”

She titters, setting the phone down, propping it against something. My father comes into the frame, a cigar unsurprisingly hanging from his lips. It’s the only time of year my mother allows him to smoke it without complaint from her. Dad shuffles cards in his hands, then sends me a cheerful grin, his cheeks flushed from the spiked eggnog I know he’s been drinking all night.

“My boy!” he says boisterously. “Happy New Year, kid.”

“Thanks, Dad. How’s the game going? You winning?”

“Oh, I’m swindling the shit out of these suckers.”

His friends—Bart, Tony, and Chris, from the sounds of it—start cussing at him in unison, and all my dad does is laugh, his round belly shaking from the movement.

“You’re keeping them in check, right, Mama?”

She rolls her eyes at their antics. “Someone has to.”

This is their yearly tradition—poker, cigars, booze, and food with friends. I have no doubt my brother and sister are there, likely setting off fireworks as usual. It’s the same thing they’ve been doing as long as I can remember, and a part of me wishes I were there to partake in all the fun.

“Is that my big brother I hear?”

My younger brother, Russ, pops into view, and his twin, Regan, is right behind him.

“Hey, guys,” I say, grinning at them. I didn’t spend nearly as much time with them when I was home as I would have liked, and fuck, I miss them.

“Artie!” Regan practically screams my nickname, tugging someone into view. “Oh my god. You can finally meet Dina!”

“Hi, Dina,” I say to the blonde woman staring at my sister like she hung the moon.

“Nice to meet you,” she says quietly, and I laugh.

Regan is the loudest person I’ve ever met—including Lawson—and it’s hilarious that she’s dating someone so clearly bashful.

“Where are the kids?” I ask Russ, hoping to say hi to my niece and nephew.

“Molly has them tonight.” He married his high school sweetheart when he was twenty-one, then two kids later, they divorced after growing apart. Luckily for Russ and the kids, they remained good friends. “But Katie is around here somewhere,” he says of his new girlfriend, who I met when I was home for Christmas.

“Okay, bye! We’re going back to blowing stuff up!” Regan shouts as if being across the country means she needs to yell.

I bid my siblings goodbye as they run off to have the fun I wish I were having.

“Speaking of girlfriends…” Mama grins, and I already know what’s coming next. “Anyone new in your life, sweetie?”

A pair of red-rimmed cobalt eyes pops into my mind, and for the hundredth time tonight, I wonder where Lilah has run off to. I haven’t seen her since she disappeared, and I scanned the crowd far more times than I’d like to admit before I came out here. Still, she’s nowhere to be found.

“Ooh, you have a look. Did you meet someone?”

I snap my attention back to my phone. “Huh? No, Mama, nothing has changed since you saw me last week.”

“Just making sure you didn’t go and fall in love and forget to tell me about it.”

“In a week?”

She shrugs. “When you know, you know.”

I’m sure my mother would think that. She was engaged to my father a month after meeting him and married him a month later. That was over thirty years ago, and they’re more in love today than they were back then.

Maybe they’re why I don’t hate relationships as much as my teammates do. I’ve always had their love as a reminder that they don’t always turn out shitty.

“How’s the party going?” she asks. “Must be fun if you forgot to call your mother.”

My mama loves me, but she takes every opportunity to guilt me. I’m pretty sure it’s her motherly duty or something.

“It’s fun. Just been watching Lawson make a fool of himself as usual.”

“That poor Rory.”

I laugh. My parents haven’t met my teammates or their girlfriends, but since I tell them everything, they seem to know them and are fully invested in their shenanigans.

“Saw your game last night,” my dad says, tossing cards across the table to his friends, that cigar still hanging precariously out the side of his mouth. “You played a good one, kid. That save with your paddle was incredible.”

It wasn’t. I wouldn’t have had to make it if I hadn’t given up the rebound to begin with, but my dad has never said a bad word about my game before. When I’d lose when I was younger, he’d pat me on the back anyway, and we’d go for ice cream. If I won, it was the same thing. My parents’ steadfast support is the one thing I could always count on, but sometimes, I wish they’d just tell it to me straight and be honest when I play like shit.

“Thanks,” I say anyway, not wanting to get into it because I have a whole list of examples of sucking lately.

It’s like that when you’re a player, though. Fans might see a great save or goal, while players will see all the ways they could have done better. No matter how loud someone on social media is, nobody critiques our game more than we do.

“We’re looking forward to the trip you arranged for us. I can’t wait to see you play in person again. It’s been too long.”

With me being in Seattle instead of playing in New York, where I spent most of my professional career until a horrible year sent me to the expansion team now known as the Seattle Serpents, my parents haven’t seen me play in a couple of years now. So, for Christmas, I bought them plane tickets. I think my mother started shopping for rain gear about two seconds after she opened the tickets.

“But until then, we’re going to watch every one of your games, kid,” Dad promises.

We talk about my dad swindling his friends out of money, her shifts at the hospital and the crazy stuff her patients are doing this holiday season, and how Russ is getting in deep with Katie, leading my mother to believe that this time next year, they’ll be engaged. This, of course, leads to a repeat discussion of my singlehood.

When I finally get her off the phone, I have no idea how much time has passed, just that I’m out of vodka and in dire need of another drink. I slip my phone into my pocket, resting against the building. The music thumps so loudly through the speakers that I can feel it vibrating against my back. I should probably go back in there before someone—namely Lawson—comes outside looking for me, but I can’t seem to make myself move.

It’s not that I’m not having a good time—I am—I just can’t stop my mind from racing. From the many, many questions about my game to why Lilah looked like she was about to cry to how I’m absolutely loathing the thought of going back to an empty apartment again, it’s all too much, and even this party can’t distract me from that.

But maybe more vodka can.

I rise from the bench, ready to head back inside, then the doors burst open. The sound of heels clacking against the concrete perks my ears, and now I’m on edge for a whole different reason. The person moving across the balcony is the same person I’ve been looking for since she disappeared on me over an hour ago.

Lilah.

Her gait is a little wobbly, and I can only wonder how much she’s had to drink since I last saw her. She holds her phone in her hand as she props herself up against the balcony. A loud woman shouts on the other end of the line, asking about who Lilah is seeing.

I should leave, should give her privacy, but I’m rooted in place, especially when Lilah sighs loudly, visibly upset with whoever she’s talking to.

“I did not hang up on you, Mother. I said I was hanging up, which is vastly different from just getting off the phone. Now though—now I want to hang up, and I’m three seconds away from doing so.”

I barely hold back my laugh at her sassiness. I don’t know what’s going on, but I have a distinct feeling, especially based on the irritation radiating off her, that she would be completely justified in hanging up on her mother.

“Lilah!” the older woman gasps dramatically. “Do not speak to your mother that way!”

“Well, then, maybe my mother should stop trying to marry me off to the highest bidder.”

Is that what had her so upset earlier? Because if so, I don’t blame her for crying. I’d be upset too if my parents were trying to pull off some archaic bullshit like that.

Her mother scoffs. “They’re just dates, Lilah. Don’t be so dramatic.”

“Yes, a date with someone I’ve never met before who I highly doubt has any interest in me other than the fact that I’m your daughter doesn’t at all sound like you’re trying to pawn me off on whoever has the most money.”

“Do you truly think I’m such a horrible mother that I’d do that?”

Lilah doesn’t answer her, and her silence speaks volumes. The distinct sound of crying fills the air as her mother breaks into tears, but there’s something about it, something that sounds rehearsed…fake.

“I’m just trying to be a good mother to you.” She sniffles. “Is it so wrong that I want to see you happy?”

Again, Lilah says nothing.

“You’ve never once done anything your father and I have asked of you,” her mother continues. “You’ve thrown away the education we spent so much money on. Instead, you paraded around being a glorified secretary for your best friend”—she says best friend like it’s a curse—“instead of coming to work for your family, Lilah. That’s how much you hate us.”

Lilah groans. “I don’t hate you, Mother.”

“You do. You hate us, and you think I’m a bad parent when all I’m trying to do is ensure your happiness.”

Honestly, it sounds like she’s just trying to ensure her happiness, Lilah’s be damned, but that’s not the worst part of what I’m witnessing. No. It’s Lilah’s shoulders slumping down. It’s how she curls into herself, how she shrinks right before my eyes. And how—and I hope I’m really seeing things—she looks like she’s about to cave to her mother’s whims.

“I just don’t understand why you’re being so stubborn right now.”

“Because I already told you. I’m seeing someone.”

“Since when?”

“Since… Since…” Lilah huffs. “I don’t know. I haven’t exactly been keeping track.”

“You’re lying, Lilah Jane. I know you’re lying. You’re not seeing anyone or else you would have mentioned him before now.”

“Did you ever stop to think I didn’t mention him because I didn’t want to go through this whole song and dance?”

Her words might sound confident, but her voice is anything but. Even I can hear the shakiness in her words. She’s about to blow it all.

“No, because I know you. You don’t date. You just sleep around like some tawdry little girl instead of a woman society should respect. You’re⁠—”

“There you are!”

Lilah spins on her heels, her eyes wide as they replace mine as I step out of the shadows I’ve been hiding in and stride toward her. I don’t stop until I’m able to wrap my arm around her waist and pull her to me. She comes willingly, her breath stuttering as she crashes against me, head tipping back to peer up at me.

She looks beautiful like this in the moonlight, her hair a little wild, likely from running her hands through it, her cheeks permanently stained with red from her alcohol flush. The urge to press my lips to hers is sudden and sharp and takes me completely off guard, but I don’t act on it.

Instead, I say, “Been looking for you.”

“Y-You have?”

“Of course I have, sugar.”

Her knees threaten to give out from under her, and it’s a good thing I’m holding her up, otherwise she’d be on the ground right about now. I’d laugh if I weren’t so aware of our audience.

“Lilah…” her mother says apprehensively. “Who is this?”

I turn to the camera, smiling wide. “Oh, I’m so sorry. How rude of me. It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Maddison. I’m Arthur Fox.” I press a wet kiss to Lilah’s cheek. “I’m her boyfriend, ma’am.”