“No chance,” I say. “Betty’s got it locked down.”
Cade and Iris arrive, windblown and glowing. Iris hugs Laney, then me, then wraps Miranda up like they’ve been friends forever.
We hang around, talking through the game—chirps, highlights, near misses. Max reenacts a save like he’s on ice again, and everyone loses it. The whole corner hums with post-win energy, beer, and laughter.
And through it all, I keep finding her.
Miranda’s at the edge of the group, laughing with Laney and Anna, eyes bright, hands moving as she tells a story. Her laughter threads through everything, finding me every time. Every glance she sends my way feels like a secret signal, a frequency only we know. And the more I catch it, the more I want to skip the after-party altogether and just take her home.
The building creaks under the wind outside. A loud gust rattles the rafters.
Miranda flinches and grips my arm. “Is this normal?”
It takes me a beat to catch up. “The storm? Yeah. It’s fine.”
“I swear the wall moved. Thebrickwall, Miles.”
I grin. “Might’ve. The wind’s wild, but the building is solid. Nothing to worry about.”
She crosses her arms, glaring at the wall like it personally offended her. I slide an arm around her shoulders and pull her close. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you from any falling bricks.”
“Not funny,” she mutters, though there’s a flicker of a smile.
“A little funny,” I say, squeezing her.
She sighs. “Sorry. I’m being a downer. Between the flight from hell and this storm, I’m just on edge. And exhausted. We didn’t sleep much last night.”
“We can head home early if you want.”
She looks up, eyes soft. “I don’t want to ruin your night.”
“You wouldn’t be. I’m tired too.” I leave out that I’ve been picturing the two of us alone since the second she walked in.
She leans into me, head resting against my chest. “Thank you. Maybe in a little bit.”
“Just say the word.”
Then—darkness.
The music cuts mid-chorus. The lights die. A few startled screams pierce the black before the crowd quiets. Miranda jumps, arms winding around me.
“It’s okay, Sunshine,” I murmur, holding her close. “Power outage. Happens all the time.”
Phone flashlights flicker on around the bar. Logan shines his under his chin. “Anyone up for scary stories?”
Someone nails him in the face with a french fry. Perfect aim.
A chorus of phone alarms breaks the tension—alerts lighting up the darkness. I check mine. “Southeast Michigan’s without power,” I read. “Major damage at one of the power centers.”
Soft yellow ambient lights click on as the generator starts up.
Betty’s voice rises from the bar. “We’re closing early! Everyone, head home!”
Groans ripple through the crowd.
“Drive safe!” she adds, already ushering people toward the door.
I glance at Miranda. “Guess that’s our cue.”
