"Night, Adrian."
"Night, Pickle."
He walked away, Biscuit trotting beside him, and I watched until they disappeared around the corner of the building. Then, I went back inside.
The stairwell was too warm after the cold. My room was too quiet. I lay down on the bed and stared at the ceiling.
He'd come to the hotel for me.
At 1 a.m., in the cold, with a borrowed dog and a transparent excuse. He'd come because he couldn't sleep either. Whatever was going on—he felt it too.
Tomorrow I'd see him again. Tomorrow I'd have to point a camera at him and pretend I was still capable of professional distance. Tomorrow I'd have to act like this was still just a job.
Tonight, in the dark, I let myself admit the truth.
Three days wouldn't be enough, and it was already too much.
Chapter five
Pickle
Iwas early.
That was wrong. I was never early. Evan was early. Coach was early. I was the guy who slid in two minutes before puck drop with my laces half-tied and granola bar crumbs on my jersey.
But here I was, forty minutes before anyone else, sitting at the bar while the bartender gave me a look that said we're literally still cutting limes.
She handed me a water anyway. Because it was Thunder Bay.
I fished out an ice cube and crunched it. Then another. Then a third one, too fast—a bright flash of pain erupted behind my eyes.
Deserved that.
The stack of menus by the register was crooked. Just a few millimeters off. Barely anything.
I straightened them.
Better.
The coasters were fanned out wrong. I fixed those, too. The littlePlease Tip Your Bartendersign had a smudge. I turned it so the smudge faced the wall.
"You reorganizing, or just killing time?"
I jumped hard enough to knock my knee on the bar.
Jake stood in the doorway, grinning. "You're being weird."
"I'm always weird."
"Weirder than usual." He dropped onto the stool next to mine. "Adrian's coming tonight."
My stomach flipped. "Cool. Yeah. For the documentary thing."
"I told him to come hang. Get footage of us being normal."
"We're not normal."
"He doesn't know that." Jake's grin sharpened. "Well, he might know that about you. After the whole—" He mimed spraying himself in the face.
