Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 86515 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86515 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
That’s the part most people don’t understand. They expect rage. They expect regret. What they don’t expect is certainty.
Unlike the drama that seemed to follow Cherry everywhere, the actual ending was finality without spectacle.
“And now here she is, married to your teammate.”
The phrasing makes me huff a quiet breath through my nose. The absurdity of it still catches me sometimes.
“Small world, right?” I grimace and glance toward the bar’s mirrored back wall, where reflections blur into gold and shadow. “But Cherry’s not my problem anymore. And I don’t want things to be weird with Miller.”
Because that part matters. The team matters. The space we share on this team every day matters more than old history ever will.
Juno considers that. I can practically see her weighing angles—not as a filmmaker, but as a person who understands proximity and consequence. “Have you talked to him?”
“No, but I probably should.”
The admission scrapes at me because I’m definitely avoiding it.
She shifts slightly. “So, tell me a bit of the fun stuff… where do you live? Did you buy or are you renting? City or country boy?”
I’m relieved to be off the subject of Cherry. “I bought in Beaverton to be close to the performance facility. I’m still unpacking.”
“I’m thinking for our one-on-one interview, we should do it at your house? Show the audience behind the scenes?”
She’s asking permission, not telling me what will happen. It’s odd that thought doesn’t bother me the way it would have a week ago.
A mere seven days ago, I would’ve never considered letting her into my personal space. “If you come, you have to help unpack.”
“Evan’s got lots of muscles. He can move the heavy stuff, but you’ll have to cook for us.”
“Deal,” I say, and hold out my hand to her. She shakes. We both laugh and I note how soft her hand is in mine.
When Juno pulls away, she picks up her beer. Condensation beads against her fingers as she lifts it, the glass hovering before her mouth like she’s debating whether to drink or pivot. “Here’s a good get-to-know-you question… who is your hero?”
It’s a damn good question and there’s no hesitation in my answer. “My sister Birdie.”
Juno’s eyebrows shoot up, her expression open and unguarded. “Really?”
“Really,” I reply. “Why so shocked?”
She lifts a shoulder. “It’s just… I thought you’d give me your hockey hero. Why’s your sister your hero?”
I shift slightly on the barstool. “She’s a commercial saturation diver and—”
“Holy shit,” Juno exclaims. “That’s some dangerous work right there.”
It’s my turn to be caught off guard. I blink at her, a short laugh puffing out before I can stop it. “You know what that is?”
“I know a little bit about lots of stuff. And she’s your hero by virtue of her work?”
I nod, tap the edge of my glass once, a quiet punctuation mark. “She’s brave beyond measure. Steady. Calm. My biggest cheerleader.”
It feels strange saying it out loud to someone new—this part of me I don’t usually offer—but it also feels right. Birdie has always existed outside the frame people try to put me in. She reminds me there’s a bigger world than rinks and cameras.
“She sounds wonderful,” Juno says, and I hear the authenticity in her voice.
“And I just remembered, she’s coming to visit this week. So maybe we should film somewhere else.”
The instinct to protect flares automatically, more out of habit than fear. Birdie doesn’t need to be folded into anything she didn’t ask for.
“It doesn’t bother me if she’s there, as long as it doesn’t bother you.” Juno’s answer is immediate. Completely unassuming and non-threatening, the woman has figured out how to handle me.
“If you want embarrassing stories, she’ll happily supply them.”
“I’ll totally take you up on that.” She laughs with delight. And then to my surprise, Juno stands from the stool and starts to reach into her pocket for money. “I hate to cut this short, but I’ve got to get going. I really appreciate the talk.”
“I’ve got your drink,” I say, waving off her money.
“Thanks, Crosby. Next drink’s on me.”
“Headed to bed?” I’m not sure why I feel so disappointed she’s leaving, but I am.
“Nah. This is Vegas, baby. I’m going to get into trouble. Want to come?”
A dangerous feeling burns in my belly, because I think Juno’s the type of woman who I could easily fall into trouble with. But my better instincts kick in. “No, I appreciate it. Going to get a good night’s sleep.”
“Fuddy-duddy.” She pouts but then follows it with a grin. “I’ll make sure to blow on the craps dice in your honor.”
“If you win, then I get half.”
She turns away, winks at me over her shoulder. “That, Mr. Hale, is never going to happen.”
I chuckle as she walks away, and yeah, my eyes fall to her ass, which looks amazing in those jeans.
Jesus, I can’t let myself go there. I pick up my beer and drain the dregs, then signal for the bartender to bring me the check.