Page 42 of Your Love

“Maybe we can meet up with Ivy and Sascha? Sascha’s back in town for the week.”

“Absolutely,” he says, his voice laced with excitement. “Maybe they can come to my game on Saturday?” I feel a flutter in my stomach at the thought of cheering him on from the stands, wearing my Landry jersey proudly.

“How is Ivy?” I ask. They both still live in Merrimack, but I know they haven’t seen each other much since last summer, despite Landry’s attempts.

“Ivy seems to be doing better. She’s been working more and taking classes,” he replies.

“That’s good. I know she doesn’t have a big desire to date anyone yet.” I can’t say I blame her. I wasn’t in a place to date until I met Landry—and even then, I trod carefully for as long as I could.

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” he says. “And Delzy feels the same. All he does is play hockey and study,” Landry replies.

As I sit on the edge of the bed, my voice cracks with emotion. “It must be so hard for both of them,” I say. “I’m lucky to have you.”

“I’m the lucky one,” he replies softly. “And I’ll prove it to you soon.”

Yesterday, after a long drive, I arrived at my grandparents’ house in the afternoon. The familiar sight of the cozy couch and the scent of freshly baked cookies greeted me. Landry arrived a few hours later and ate dinner with us. Afterward, we curled up under a blanket and watched “Back to the Future.” We snuck kisses as often as we could. It was exactly the evening I’d been looking forward to.

Sascha and I are going to Landry’s game today, and after that, the plan is to meet up later with Ivy. She wasn’t thrilled at the idea of going to the ice center and watching the Mavericks play. I think it’s still too difficult for her, and I understand that. I’m just excited for all of us to get together.

Right on time, there’s a knock on my door. I eagerly run to answer it. To my surprise, Sascha stands on my front porch clutching a fluffy baby chick in her hands, her eyes sparkling with excitement and mischief.

“This is not what I expected when I opened the door.”

“I stopped by the chicken coop to see my buddy, Cocky, and this little guy had to come with me,” she explains.

I wrap my arms around her, careful not to squish the chicken between us. “I’ve missed you, Sash,” I say.

“I’ve missed you too, Ker-Bear,” she replies, using the nickname she gave me last summer that all our friends now use without question. After all, anything Sasha does is automatically cool.

Sascha comes inside to greet Nana and Papa with a warm hug. They catch up for a few minutes before she passes the chick off to Nana to return to the coop. She better hurry—I’m sure Eunice is a nervous wreck wondering why the crazy girl stole her baby.

Once we are in Sascha’s car on our way to the ice center, we make small talk about how things have been going.

“Have you talked to Taz lately?” I ask cautiously.

“Ew, why would I talk to him?” she replies defensively. But I know Sash, and behind her tough exterior, she misses him. She just isn’t ready to admit it yet, so I let it go.

Sash leans toward me, her black pixie hair framing her face as she looks my way with a smirk. “So, how’s it going with Landry?” she asks, wiggling her perfectly shaped eyebrows and making me laugh.

“Things are good,” I say, smiling at the thought of him. “Long distance sucks, but we’re making it work.”

Sash nods in understanding. “College is temporary,” she says, “but you guys have something special. He’s been head over heels for you since day one.”

A blush creeps up my cheeks at her words. “Really?” I ask, feeling a surge of happiness. “Did he tell you that?”

Sash grins and shrugs nonchalantly, “Maybe.”

I smirk and nudge Sash playfully. “I know you love teasing him.”

“I can’t deny it,” she admits. “He’s like a massive little brother to me.”

“Speaking of friends, how’s Ivy doing? I feel like I haven’t caught up with her in forever.”

A hint of sadness flashes across Sash’s face before she puts on a brave smile. “She’s hanging in there,” she says. “It’s been hard for her since Delzy left, but she knows it was the right decision.”

“Why are some of the most difficult decisions the right ones?” I lament.

“Word,” Sash says with a nod.