Chapter 4
Life definitely had a way of biting you in the ass. In that department, Jordan had been batting a thousand.
Not that treading deep water was new to him. Hell no. For the most part he had a tendency to put himself right in the middle of the shit storm. Anyone who questioned his talent in that direction could reference the 220 penalty minutes he'd already racked up this season. But those were game stats, and though those minutes gave the opposition power play advantages, he'd always found a way to come back in the game and score.
Making amends in real life wasn't so easy.
Lucinda Nutter.
Holy shit.
He didn't know what the whole "Diamond" thing was about, but hopefully he'd have plenty of time to find out. He hadn't been around much in his teen years because he'd spent a great portion of his time on the East Coast playing for minor league teams. Somehow during his senior year he'd been around long enough to make friends and play other sports. With the NHL on his radar, he hadn't been the best student. Which was why he'd taken it upon himself to hire someone to tutor him in the classes where he struggled.
And that was when he'd met Lucinda Nutter.
Today, sitting across the desk from Ms. Diamond, he'd tried to place the face that looked so familiar. Initially he couldn't recall anyone with that last name. Her refusal to acknowledge their acquaintance had piqued his interest enough for him to study her as he would an opponent.
There'd been something familiar in the flash of gold that lit up her dark brown eyes behind those glasses. Something in the tone of her voice. It hadn't been until she'd snagged her full bottom lip between her teeth and a dimple appeared in her right cheek that recognition dawned.
Ms. Diamond wasn't just a pretty package hiding behind a staid white blouse, black skirt, white sneakers, and dark-­framed glasses. She wasn't just his little sister's creative writing teacher. She was Lucinda Nutter-­the girl he'd stood up the night of their high school graduation.
No wonder she'd refused to acknowledge him.
Not that he'd been any prize back in those days, but she must have been crushed that night when he didn't show. Especially since he'd had to ask her several times before she'd agree to go out with him. The following day he'd tried to contact her to explain and apologize. Not surprisingly, she'd refused his calls.
He could hardly blame her.
He'd felt bad because he'd genuinely liked her. Lucinda had been able to hold her own in a conversation. She'd been smart, sweet, and honest. He always got the sense that she believed she didn't belong, and maybe that, more than anything, had been what connected him to her. With all the traveling he did and being away from his family so much, he didn't feel like he belonged either. To his surprise he'd found he'd rather hang out with her in the library on a Friday night than with a bunch of buddies looking for trouble.
But then he'd thrown it all away.
After several unsuccessful tries to apologize to her, he'd given up. At the time he'd been a selfish bastard solely focused on the NHL. Hell. He still was. But he'd been worse back then. He'd been trying to prove himself to those he thought mattered-­the team owners and coaches. The moment he'd been drafted by the Chicago Blackhawks at eighteen years old, he'd forgotten all about her. He'd moved on to scoring goals, making money, and bedding hot women.
The sudden and horrific loss of his parents had shifted the order of everything. He hadn't been blowing smoke when he'd told his family he was all in. For the first time in his life he needed something more than the glory of slapping the puck between the pipes and the roar of the crowd. For the first time he felt the need to be more than part of a team that went their separate ways after the arena lights shut down.
He needed to be a part of his family.
Running into Lucinda solidified the necessity of righting his wrongs. Unfamiliar territory, to be sure, but one he was willing to make happen. He believed in second chances. Hell, he'd been given more than that during his career. Now he had to make the most of the opportunity he'd been given, no matter in what ugly manner it had come. It was too late to make it up to his mom and dad, but there were still five siblings he could beg for mercy.
And there was Lucinda, who no doubt might be his toughest critic.
As he drove out of the high school parking lot and turned the rented Lincoln Navigator onto Main Street, he noticed there were still no big box stores in Sunshine. No one-­stop shopping conveniences. Instead, time had pretty much stood still. As it had been when he'd been a kid, mom-­and-­pop businesses and cozy boutiques ruled both sides of the tree-­lined road. A great majority of those shops were food-­related, which didn't help the rumbling in his empty stomach.