Open Lanes Read online

  Copyright © 2021 Mary Morano

  All rights reserved

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  This novel is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the express written permission of the publisher.

  Cover Design by: Olinart

  Edit/Proofread by: Sisters Get Lit.erary Author Services

  Formatting by: AJ Wolf Graphics

  PR by: Give Me Books Promotions

  To JJ and Bomby,

  You two are my sunshine, my moon, and my stars.

  Everything I am and everything I do is for you.

  Especially waking up before the sun for hockey and tae kwon do!

  Always and Forever!

  Love Mommy

  Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Epilogue

  A Note from Mary

  Also By Mary

  About the Author

  April - Senior Year of High School

  Thirty-five more days. Only thirty-five school days left until graduation. Thirty-five days and I no longer have to deal with these idiots I go to high school with. Thirty-five days is nothing. I can do this.

  I drop my bag onto the purple comforter that covers my bed, ignoring the latest fake admirer letter I found in my locker today as it spills out of the side pocket. I walk the five steps over to my bedroom door and pull the number thirty-six off my handmade countdown, physical proof I survived another day. Balling it up, I shoot it like a basketball and watch as it lands a good foot and a half from the garbage can. Figures, sports were never my thing.

  Despite the fact that I still had homework to do, I sat down at my desk and opened my laptop, intent on finishing what I started last night. I had to peel myself away from the story I was writing when I was unable to keep my eyes open any longer, even though the characters have been distracting me all day.

  The computer loads and I take a minute to stare at the Monroe Mooseheads logo that I had set as my background. Since the first time I realized that you could give the characters in your head a voice when I was a third grader, I dreamed of being a famous writer one day. I spent seventh grade researching colleges and realized that one of the best writing programs in the country was located at Monroe University in Maine, and that my favorite author taught there. If that isn’t fate, I don’t know what is. From that moment on, my focus was getting into that school. My eyes shifted to the acceptance letter hanging on the bulletin board above my desk that bore the same logo. Only a few more months and I would be away from all the drama of high school, my ex-best friend who liked to find ways to torture me daily, and his minions who followed him without question. A smile spread across my face as I dreamed about college life.

  “Nicole!” My mother’s high-pitched voice yells from the bottom of the stairs. “Come down here we have great news!”

  With a sigh, I closed my laptop, these characters would have to wait a little bit longer because I knew she would just keep calling if I didn’t come downstairs.

  As I reach the bottom of the stairs, I hear the excited voices of my mother and her best friend, also known as our neighbor and my ex-best friend Brayden’s mother, coming from the kitchen. Dread fills my body and my stomach starts to churn. The two of them have no clue how bad things really were between Brayden and me, so they were constantly trying to get us together. I had thought the worst was over after the prom incident last month, but apparently that wasn’t the case.

  I paste on a smile, knowing it was better to smile and nod, then get out of dodge when it came to whatever plan they had concocted this time. With a small pep talk, a fake smile, and my shoulders pulled back, I stepped into the kitchen to face them. Only they weren’t alone. No, there sitting at the counter was none other than Brayden with a huge toothy grin on his face. I faltered and looked around to see not only our mothers here, but our fathers too. The weight in my stomach grew heavier as my mind raced to find a reason for this impromptu gathering. Obviously, it wasn’t anything bad, they were all smiling. Maybe he had gotten drafted to the NHL and was leaving today. I could smile about that too.

  “Oh, Nicole! We just got the best news! Brayden wanted to wait until it was officially announced and everything was signed before he would say anything to you! But this is just amazing! It’s like fate.” She was rambling, her hands clasped together like this was the most fantastic news she had ever received. Despite the fact my body was preparing for the worst news ever, my mind held on to hope that it really was good news.

  “What’s the news, Mom?” I cut her off, unable to take anymore of the anticipation she was building.

  “I was recruited by Monroe University to play hockey for them. I’m going to be a Moosehead. We’re going to college together.” His deep voice echoes through the kitchen as if it was an empty cave. His smile kept getting bigger as I stared at him in shock.

  Oh. Hell. No.

  April - Sophomore Year of College

  We had just finished our final practice of the year, and a group of us were walking out of the rink, our equipment bags hung over our shoulders, hair still wet from the showers. We weren’t our normal loud obnoxious selves, barely drawing any attention as we walked down the stairs outside the rink. It had been a rough season riddled with injuries and suspensions. We missed becoming conference champs by one goal in the final game, and it sucked. No one was in a good mood, despite Coach’s ‘we will get them next year’ speech, and that had made today’s practice even harder than normal.

  For the seniors, today had been the last time most of them would be on the ice playing for a team. We had one or two that were going pro, but most were just moving onto regular odd jobs—what a depressing thought. For the rest of us, there were various camps to look forward to while we were home on summer break, and a new season next year. The thought of never playing again tore me up inside. Hockey was my life, my dream, my shelter from the storm’s life threw at me. When I was upset, I skated; when I was happy, I did drills; when it felt like the world was against me, I shot the puck into the net as hard as I could. I still had two more years of school, but I already knew my plan was to go pro. If that didn’t work out, I was going to become a coach, and run camps during the summer, maybe teach some private lessons too. Whichever way it turns out, hockey is going to be a part of my life for a very long time.

  “Yooo. Looky there!” Tattoo whisper-shouted, while pointing toward the quad. Like most of the guys on the team, he had a nickname with a funny story behind it, for him it involved getting a tattoo located on his ass while being drunk off said ass.

  My gaze darted around, trying to figure out what he was pointing at, until my eyes landed on her—Nicole Miller—and I
stopped right where I was. There she was, no more than fifty feet away from me. Her straight brown hair was thrown up in a messy ponytail, and her brown eyes were hidden behind sunglasses. I didn’t need to see them to know they looked like endless pools of melted chocolate, I had spent my whole life staring into those same eyes.

  She was laying back on a towel, reading a book, while soaking in one of the first true days of spring we had gotten up here in Maine. Even though it was already the end of April, it still wasn’t what us Floridians would consider warm. She was in jeans and a white hoodie. I strained my eyes trying to read the words on the front of her hoodie, knowing it would have a funny saying on it, just like with all her other shirts, and needing to feel just a bit closer to her. Maybe get a glimpse into her state of mind, since she was giving me nothing lately. I took a step toward her, so I could see it more clearly. ‘Sorry I’m late, I didn’t want to come,’ I read to myself and laughed, it was perfectly her.

  My obsession with her had started right around the time I realized that girls didn’t have cooties and progressed from there. It was simple at first. She was my closest friend, and we were always together, she grew tits and I wanted to touch them. Then I started to notice other things, like how nice she always smelled, or how I liked the way her legs looked in a skirt. Finally, there was the jealousy that would pulse through my veins when one of my teammates would ask about her. By the time I even realized how deep my feelings ran, it was already too late. Unfortunately for me, I was a stupid teenage boy, so instead of being nice and telling her I liked her, I called her names, started rumors to keep the other guys away, and then punched anyone who didn’t listen. Those moments were definitely not my brightest ideas. Not by a long shot. Now it was almost three years later, and I was still paying for it.

  I had known by senior year of high school that this girl was going to be my endgame, but I would never even get the chance with her at the rate I was going. So, when it came time for college and I was being recruited by not only the best Division I hockey school but also the school that she had been talking about for years, my choice was easy. I can assure you that she wasn’t quite as happy with the news when she found out we would be going to school together for another four years. Which leads us to now, two years into college, and she hadn’t so much as responded to a text, talked to me, or even acknowledged my existence in any way. Definitely not a good sign.

  “Uh-oh, here he goes again.” Sticks called out from behind me. His nickname also resulted from a night of drunken debauchery. Come to think of it almost all of ours did—something to contemplate later.

  “Pong, my dude, this is getting pathetic. You're always stopping to watch her, and she doesn’t even know you exist. I’m beginning to think you took a few to many pucks to the head and you growing up with her is all a figment of your imagination.” Penguin grumbled while using his oversized goalie hands to push me in the opposite direction of her, toward the house we all shared.

  I knew they all were starting to think that, but I hadn’t imagined growing up with her. I had just been such a knucklehead that she did everything she could to avoid my existence. Not such an easy feat considering at home we lived across the street from each other, and our parents had been best friends since before we were born. Still, she was nothing if not determined, but I hadn’t become a DI athlete without a little perseverance.

  I glanced over my shoulder one last time before we got out of reach and saw the guy, who I knew to be her boyfriend, approach her. He had messy black hair and wore wrinkled clothes over his lanky frame. When he reached her, she hopped up, and it looked like they were arguing. He easily towered over her, and the aggressive way he positioned himself made me uneasy. He was using his height to his advantage against her five-foot-five petite body. It made me want to walk over there and pound him into the ground. While he may be bigger than she was, I was a monster compared to him at well over six-feet and two-hundred-twenty pounds of hard-earned muscle. My job on the ice was to intimidate guys much scarier than he ever could hope to be. Handling him would be a walk in the park. I stopped again, turning to walk back toward her, when Tattoo grabbed my arm to stop me.

  “Bray, don’t. That’s not a situation that you want to walk into with someone who hasn’t talked to you in two years.”

  I nodded knowing he was right. She was strong and wouldn’t allow him to intimidate her, plus there were people everywhere. Still, it felt wrong walking away and not letting her know I was there if she needed any help. I pulled out my phone as we walked, ignoring the guys who were still taunting me, and pulled up our text messages. Well, it wasn’t really ours, it was more mine, seeing as she hadn’t answered a single text that I’ve sent her since the beginning of last year.

  Still, I typed out an offer for support, and a final request to join me on the road trip home. It may make me sound delusional, but I swear I’m not, I just want one chance. I had planned it all out, we would leave on Sunday, which was two days from now. There were planned stops at some of the weird roadside attractions that I had found on the internet which fell close enough to the route I would take to get home. We would arrive back in Florida sometime late Thursday. In my plan, this gave us plenty of time to talk, work past our issues, get to know each other again, and for her to fall head over heels in love with me.

  I was a charming guy, this shouldn’t be that hard, right? I mean girls fell at my feet all the time, but I was done with those girls. They didn’t want me, they wanted the hockey player who could go pro, or the popular guy on campus who everyone always wanted to party with. Nicole never saw me as that guy. She couldn’t care less about how popular I was, or how much money I could possibly make in the future. In fact, those things were probably more of a turn off for her. She hated the spotlight. If I could get Nicole to see past our history, she would like me for me. She knew me before a hockey stick and pair of skates changed my life. Now I just had to get her in the car and make her see what had always been right in front of her all along. Though the fact that she seemed to still have a boyfriend did throw a little wrench in my plans. But hey, I was our number one power play killer, I could easily work with this disadvantage.

  I turned around quickly to continue my walk back to the house and caught a whiff of my hockey gear, almost gagging and choking at the horrific scent. Maybe it was better that she didn’t seem to be responding to my offer. I couldn’t imagine it would be pleasant driving that far with these in the car. I would definitely need to Febreze the shit out of them before loading them in the trunk.

  “This is absolutely ridiculous! How do I get myself in these situations?” I muttered out loud to myself, since there was no one else around, as I stomped up the side of the empty highway at 6:30 on a Sunday morning. The only answer I received was squeaking wheels of the highlighter yellow suitcase that I was dragging behind me. It felt like I had been walking for hours but according to my useless cell phone, which had no service, it had only been ten minutes. If I squinted, I could see the sign for the next exit in the distance.

  Why was I walking along the side of a highway with my suitcase you might ask? Well, I’ll tell you… Because my dickhead of an ex, a very recent ex by the way, had kicked me out of the car half an hour ago on the side of this wonderful highway. Apparently, he didn’t agree with the fact that I thought we should take some time apart to evaluate our life goals and where we wanted this relationship to go. So, he pulled over and told me I was welcome to make my own way to the airport, since I didn’t need him anymore. Not that I had ever actually said those specific words. Then the loser left me on the side of the road with nothing but my suitcase and backpack. Even my phone charger was still plugged into his car, thankfully my phone had been in my pocket at the time. But thank you for proving my point, asshole.

  So, after a twenty minute nervous breakdown, that included a small anxiety attack when I realized my cell had no service, I gathered all the inner strength I could find and started walking. There was no way, I was sitti
ng here panicked waiting for him to come back and get me. Screw that and screw him. I was a strong, slightly freaked out female and I could handle this situation. Right? Right! Onward we go!

  I continued walking for five more minutes along the side of the road while mentally writing this exact situation as a scene in one of my stories. What would my character do now? Would the readers even believe this? Probably not. With a sigh, I stopped and squinted into the distance, it seemed like the exit sign was getting further away, not closer, and there hadn’t been a car to pass me since Sir Douche had pulled away. With another sigh, I laid my bag flat on the floor and sat my butt down on its hard shell. I needed to figure out what to do now. There was no chance I was going to make my flight back home after this dumbass left me stranded on the side of the road. I knew the next flight from the local airport to Florida wasn’t until eight tomorrow morning, which was over twenty-four hours away, and last I checked, it was sold out. The dorms closed today at noon for the end of the semester. So, staying there until I could get another flight wasn’t an option either. I went through a list of friends I had who may be able to put me up for a few days, only to realize that they had already left to head home for summer break. Normally, I would call my roommate Jess, her family only lived a few hours away and her parents never minded me staying but they had left last night for Cali to visit her brother’s family.

  I was so screwed. Even if I did make it to the next exit, who would I call? The asshole who left me on the side of the road. Not. Happening. Maybe, if I kept walking until I could get service on my phone, I could request an Uber then stay in the airport until I could get on a flight. People did that sort of thing in movies all the time, right?

  Feeling better that I had a plan, I stood up and started my hike down the highway again. Ten more minutes passed, and I was beginning to think this was an illusion as the sign seemed no closer than when I first started walking. Then, thankfully, I heard the distinct sound of a car in the distance. For the first time, the precarious situation that I found myself in really hit home. I was a 20-year-old female, walking down the side of an empty highway with no help in sight—talk about the beginning of every serial killer movie ever made. I couldn’t even alert anyone to where I was, or the fact I wasn’t on my flight back home as planned. It would be hours before anyone even knew I was missing. Whoever was in this car heading toward me could rape, kill, and chop me up into little pieces to feed to the bears in the woods before anyone even knew something was amiss. I started walking a little faster, knowing there was no way I was going to outrun this car, and there was nowhere to run to anyway. There wasn’t even anywhere to hide. I was in the middle of nowhere on a highway surrounded by nothing but flat open land for miles in either direction. I felt my anxiety starting to ramp back up. Taking slow deliberate breaths, I counted down backwards from twenty, allowing my body to calm itself down enough that I was able to find some semblance of control. I couldn’t panic right now because that would leave me no chance for survival.