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)
I play stupid. “Bygones?”
She laughs softly. “Us. The past. We don’t have to make it awkward.”
I don’t respond right away. Because the truth is, it is awkward—but not for the reasons she thinks. I don’t feel anything stirring between us. No nostalgia. No regret. Only mild irritation and a growing desire to be literally anywhere else.
And the best way to get rid of Cherry is to give her what she wants. “You’re right,” I say. “The past is the past and we can coexist on this team civilly.”
“Friends even,” she says and touches my arm. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
I resist the urge to step back. My attention involuntarily drifts across the room again. Juno’s murmuring to Evan and she glances up, sees Cherry practically leaning into me, and gives me a pointed eye roll.
I fight a smile and Cherry notices, head now whipping back to Juno and Evan.
“Wow,” she says lightly. “I’m really losing the competition for your attention tonight.”
I drag my focus back to her. “Sorry. Long day.”
She studies me for a beat, then smiles like she’s made a decision. “You know, we were good together. People forget that.”
I don’t say anything because this is now getting into awkward territory. I glance around, looking for her husband. I resist the urge to yell out, “Miller… come get your wife.”
“We had fun,” she continues, oblivious to my discomfort. Her voice drops a little. “A lot of fun.”
Jesus Christ… is she… hitting on me?
“That was a long time ago,” I reply, careful but firm.
She waves it off. “Of course. Ancient history.” A pause. “Miller’s great, by the way.”
I latch onto that. “He seems like a good guy. How’d you two meet?”
Her smile freezes. “At an event,” she says vaguely. “Through mutual connections.”
“Sounds… romantic,” I deadpan.
She shoots me a look, then laughs, though it sounds a little forced. “Not everything has to be a fairy tale.”
Across the room, Juno steps out of the private dining space, leaving Evan behind. I think she might be headed toward the restrooms, and an idea strikes.
“Excuse me,” I say to Cherry abruptly. “I need to use the restroom.”
She starts to protest, then catches herself. “Don’t be a stranger,” she calls after me.
I don’t turn around.
I catch up to Juno before she reaches the hallway, my hand slipping around her wrist. I gently pull her into a recessed alcove near the coat check. She gasps, then laughs when she sees it’s me.
“Wow,” she whispers. “Bold.”
“I was being held hostage,” I murmur, leaning in. “It was traumatizing, and I might need your lips to counsel me through it.”
She grins. “I’m sorry your ex is a menace.”
“She cornered me.”
“Shocking,” Juno says dryly.
I kiss her before she can say anything else—quick, soft, more relief than heat. She kisses me back, fingers curling briefly into my jacket.
“You okay?” she asks.
“I am now.”
She smirks. “I saw her circling you like a satellite.”
“I noticed.”
“Let me guess… she hit you with nostalgia.”
I groan. “Yeah, and… it was weird. She tried to go down the memory lane of good times.”
Juno laughs, low and warm, then presses another kiss to my mouth. “You’re handling it fine.”
“Am I?”
“Very mature. Gold star.”
“Like I said, I’m traumatized,” I say, my eyes dropping to her mouth. “I really need you to kiss me to make it better.”
And she does.
CHAPTER 26
Juno
Crosby pushes the cart through the grocery store to catch up to me. I left him behind to get the items we intend to grill while I head to the bread aisle for buns. To any casual observer, we look like the model of blissful domesticity. Joking, sneaking a kiss, a lingering touch while we do the mundane task of buying food.
And I have to admit… I’ve never been drawn to this part of relationships before. The ordinary life moments, shared errands, the quiet implication of permanence. I’ve always avoided it, afraid it would feel like walls closing in around me.
But standing here with Crosby, it doesn’t feel like I’m losing anything. Rather, it feels easy, as if I’m choosing what’s good for me. That choice unsettles me a bit, but that’s far outweighed by the certainty that I don’t want to walk away from it.
I glance back at him and he looks at ease. Both hands on the handle, thumbs drumming a beat playing in his head. His shoulders are relaxed and he navigates the aisles with quiet confidence, nodding with a smile when people do a double take, never breaking stride.
This is the version of him people don’t often see. Not the goalie in the crease, not the man behind the mask. Simply a guy picking up groceries on a day off.
The team plane left Winnipeg last night after a hard-fought win. Crosby was spectacular in the net, having brushed off the loss against the Demons. It took no convincing from him to get me to come to his house when we landed, which was closer to the airport than my place.