She didn’t laugh when I tossed a snowball her way, even though the girl I’ve known my entire life would’ve cracked up.
She didn’t look at me with warmth and laughter filling her dark, vibrant chocolate eyes. Her sunny smile was pressed into a flat line. In short, she was nothing like the girl—the best friend—I remember.
Her reaction to seeing me made me feel like I did something wrong.
I know it’s been years and I should have done a better job of keeping in touch with her but…we never had a falling out. We never exchanged harsh words or ignored each other. Sure, we had that one awkward moment the night before graduation. But I wasn’t going to hook up with Piper and then bounce. She wasn’t the kind of girl I could do a casual, one-night-only arrangement with.
I haven’t seen her much since I went to Michigan and she moved out West. Our paths crossed a few times, over holidays and summer breaks, but other than friendly pleasantries, we haven’t hung out since high school.
So, what gives?
I don’t recall Piper ever being hostile toward me. As if I did something wrong. As if I hurt her in some way.
My stomach twists at the thought. The last thing I’d ever want to do is hurt someone as funny, sincere, and loving as Piper.
Christ, even seeing her in winter boots and a beanie pulled me up short. Even with her glacial glare and snarky attitude, she was as beautiful as I remember. Classically pretty in a way that makes strangers stop and stare. In a way that allows her to have no idea how stunning she is.
“Here you are.” Dad passes a wine glass to Bruce. “And for you.” He hands one to Piper and kisses her temple, the way he would Stacy. “Merry Christmas, Piper.”
“Thanks, Bruce.” She beams at him. The smile I’ve been searching for is still there, just not aimed at me.
I work a swallow, my confusion rising along with my frustration. What the hell did I do?
“I’m happy to be home,” Piper continues.
Is she? She didn’t look happy this afternoon.
“Yeah, your dad’s been telling me about your job. Sounds intense,” Dad comments.
I frown. What does Piper do for work again? My mom must have told me at some point. She works in communications? Or Public Relations?
My best friend and former teammate, Leif, always laughs that my inattention to details will bite me in the ass. Right now, I can hear his voice muttering “told you so” in my head. Too bad he’s not here to witness Piper shutting me down since he was traded right before the NHL Christmas trade freeze to the Tennessee Thunderbolts.
“It’s been a lot. This break…” She sighs. “It came at a good time.”
Dad gives her a sympathetic smile and a shoulder squeeze.
A flicker of concern kicks up at the forlorn expression on Piper’s face. She looks utterly exhausted. Drained in a way that speaks to more than a poor night’s sleep.
I study her carefully, hating how little I know about the woman standing before me. When did that happen? When did Piper and I grow so far apart, we became strangers?
I swallow back my unease, my stomach souring at the realization. Have I been so caught up in hockey that I didn’t even realize the shift? Or did I take her, and her friendship, for granted, unable to process the fact that she outgrew me?
Both options are upsetting.
“Ooh, I’d love a glass of wine,” my sister announces, bounding into the kitchen. She swipes up a glass and passes one to me. “Here, take the edge off.”
I snort. “What edge?”
Her eyes dance knowingly. “You tell me.”
I smirk. Stacy is two years older than I am. We haven’t lived at Mom and Dad’s together in years and still, the second I see her, it’s as if we’re still in high school. We revert to our always childish, pranking, teasing ways and annoy the hell out of each other.
It’s how we show our love.
It’s easy and instant and constant. I tilt my head. Is that why I assumed things would be the same with Piper?
Behind Stacy’s head, Piper glares at me.
