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)
She smiles. “It sounds amazing. You don’t mind the solitude?”
I shake my head. “No. It’s the opposite.” I search for the right word. “It’s relief.” I look back at her then. “There’s a difference between being alone and feeling lonely. Wyoming’s the first place that ever taught me that.”
For a moment, neither of us speaks.
And in the quiet that settles between us, I realize I’ve given her part of myself I don’t usually offer anyone.
“And Portland?” she asks. “What does this place represent for you?”
I glance around my house without thinking. “A reset,” I say. “A team being built instead of maintained. Patrick Rowe is an owner who truly cares. It’s exhilarating, to be honest.”
Birdie snorts. It’s loud and unapologetic, and I’m not sure what she finds so funny.
I turn my head slowly and glare. “Do you mind?”
She snickers. “You sound like a press release.”
Juno’s eyes light up, cutting between us.
“Go away,” I say blandly, making a shooing motion with my hand. “You’re impeding on my stardom.”
Birdie chortles, but Juno’s eyes light up. “Actually,” she says, turning in her chair. “Birdie, would you come sit with him?”
I blink and sit up straighter. “Wait! What?”
Birdie’s already standing. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”
“No, wait a minute—”
“Evan… get her a mic,” Juno instructs, jumping up and repositioning her vacated chair next to mine. Birdie plops down into it.
My sister leans into me, bats her eyelashes, and smooths her hair. “How do I look?”
“Annoying as ever,” I say drolly.
Evan adjusts without missing a beat, clipping a mic onto Birdie’s collar, and Juno moves to stand beside him. He shifts the angle and reframes the shot.
“Behave,” I hiss under my breath to my sister.
“Not a chance,” she whispers back.
“Tell me,” Juno says to Birdie, “what do people get wrong about your brother?”
I jolt, because… that’s a pretty deep fucking question and I brace for what my sister might say.
Birdie doesn’t even think. “They think he’s cold.” I open my mouth to protest, but she keeps going. “But he’s the furthest thing from it. He doesn’t waste emotion. When it’s necessary, it’s deep and true. If you’re in his circle, you’re in for life.”
Juno glances at me briefly, a warm gleam in her eyes, then back to Birdie. “What’s he like off the ice? Give us the tea.”
Birdie laughs. “Annoyingly responsible. Loyal to a fault. Terrible at asking for what he wants.”
I scowl. “That’s not true.”
She pats my shoulder. “You’re proving my point.”
Juno smiles at us with what looks like pride. Like she wanted that sibling banter she’d been observing all night and we’re handing it up on a silver platter.
The interview continues like that—less polished, more real. And weirdly… fun. Birdie tells stories I’d forgotten. Juno listens like they matter. And somehow, the camera disappears.
When Juno finally declares us finished and the camera clicks off, it feels like the entire patio exhales.
“That was really good,” Juno says softly. “It was a great start.”
“Start?” I ask, unclipping my mic and handing it to Evan. “We need to do this again?”
Juno laughs, folding her notebook closed. “You do realize I’m here for an entire season, right? I’m sure I’ll find more things to ask you. But I won’t bother you anytime soon.”
The relief I feel isn’t that I won’t be back in front of the camera right away but rather the reminder that Juno is here to stay. At least for the season, and fuck if I know why that appeals so much. But I guess I’m going to have to admit… I like the woman. And not only as an ethical documentarian.
I like her in ways that are probably not cool to like her, given the nature of her job.
Birdie beams. “Well, I’m available anytime. I accept Venmo and snacks.”
Juno slips her notebook into her bag and Evan grabs his equipment. “I’m going to go put this in the car.”
Birdie somehow disappears and only Juno and I are left on the back patio. The porch light casts her face in soft gold. She looks both parts tired and happy, beautiful in a way that has nothing to do with effort.
“Thanks for trusting me,” she says.
I nod. “You made it easy.”
She smiles, and for a second, I think she might say something else. I can see she wants to, and part of me thinks it has nothing to do with the documentary.
Or maybe that’s wishful thinking.
“Well, I should get going,” Juno says, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.
I’d really like her to stay—maybe for a glass of wine—but it would be weird asking her that. It would be weirder with my sister here and Evan out by the car.
The timing is terrible.
Instead, I motion toward the door and walk her all the way out to the driveway. Evan’s already behind the wheel and gives me a wave.