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 good to know, and yes, he thanked me on ice,” I say honestly. “But it’s hard to tell what’s going on in that guy’s head lately.”
Her brows knit. “Because of Cherry.”
I exhale through my nose. “Yeah. She doesn’t exactly help things.”
“She stirred up a lot at Patrick’s place,” Juno says. “And I don’t think she even realizes the ripple effect.”
“I think she realizes,” I mutter. “I don’t think she cares.”
Juno studies me for a beat, then tips her head. “Have you talked to him since?”
“Not really. Locker room stuff. On-ice stuff. Nothing… direct.”
She doesn’t push back right away and instead takes a sip of her drink, eyes drifting briefly to the room before coming back to me.
“You should,” she says gently. “Talk to him. Clear the air.”
I scoff. “You sound like a therapist.”
She smiles. “I grew up around a lot of unresolved tension. I can smell it.”
That strikes deep because she’s probably right. “What’s your advice?”
She stares at me thoughtfully for a moment. “Miller’s a good player, but he’s human, and right now, he’s dealing with a lot. If he’s second-guessing himself because of things off the ice, that bleeds onto it.” She hesitates a second before adding, “This team feels balanced. Like everyone’s pulling in the same direction. I know you don’t want anything to mess that up.”
I look at her then—really look at her. The way she’s not observing from the outside but understanding from within. Seeing the connective tissue, not only the highlights.
“You’re good at this,” I say.
“At telling people what they don’t want to hear?”
“At seeing things,” I correct.
Her expression softens. “So are you.”
I tilt my head. “How so?”
“You read plays before they happen,” she says. “People too, whether you want to admit it or not.”
The noise of the party swells around us, but the moment holds as if we’re in a private cocoon.
“I’ll talk to him,” I say finally.
She nods once, like she knew I would. “Good.”
There’s a beat where neither of us moves. Where the air feels charged.
Her gaze flicks to my mouth before she catches herself, but I notice.
And suddenly, talking feels like the wrong choice.
Before I can even evaluate what this is going on between us, there’s a loud shriek of delight near the front door. A sound I’ve heard way too often in my past.
I glance past Juno and catch sight of Cherry, who’s hugging Axel’s wife and jumping up and down in place as if they’re so excited to be in each other’s presence.
It’s pure performance as I see her already scanning the room, clocking who has eyes on her and who still needs to have eyes on her.
I exhale through my nose and shake my head once. “I don’t have it in me to deal with her tonight.”
Juno follows my gaze, takes it in without commentary. No curiosity disguised as questions.
She reaches for my hand and I jolt.
There’s nothing tentative about it, her fingers sliding into mine with such firmness, I immediately relax.
“Come on,” she says, already turning. “Let’s explore his house.”
It doesn’t sound like an escape. It sounds like a decision I’m about to make that might change things between us.
I follow without hesitation.
We move through the kitchen, the crowd parting easily, no one paying us more than passing attention. Someone presses fresh drinks into our hands and we accept them out of habit, then abandon them on the counter a few steps later. The music swells behind us, laughter cresting and breaking, and we’re on the escape from it all.
Juno glances back once, checking that I’m still with her.
I am.
We pass a short hallway that opens into a quieter wing of the house, the light dimmer here. The noise dulls to a low thrum, more felt than heard. She slows enough to orient herself, then nudges open a glass door with her shoulder.
Cool air envelops us, a side deck stretching out with string lights overhead. Juno keeps ahold of my hand, soft skin that feels way too good against mine.
We end up side by side at the railing, hands breaking apart so elbows can rest on the stained wood.
I exhale slowly, fingers laced together like I need the anchor. “So much better out here.”
It comes out lighter than I feel. Truth is, the fact that Juno knows so much about my history—accurately, without judgment—still throws me.
She smiles faintly, gaze fixed on the city lights in the distance. “I’m digging the Cherry-free zone. She definitely sucks up a lot of energy.”
I turn my head toward Juno, studying her in the spill of the deck light. Her profile is beautiful… delicate features, full lips, but also strong and proud. She knows so much about me, and I’m at once aware of how little I know about her beyond the surface.
“What about your love life?” I ask.
Juno doesn’t flinch but does raise her eyebrows slightly. “That’s a change of subject.”