Her response comes with three heart emojis and a GIF of someone bringing wine.
Always. Does 7 work?
I send a thumbs-up and toss my phone back in my tote.
I’ve only been back a few weeks, but being around Kristy makes it feel like I never left. Familiar. Like slipping into an old hoodie and remembering exactly why it’s your favorite.
The sun’s dipping low, but it’s still bright enough to catch in the rearview mirror. I forgot how long the light lingers here in Colorado. It’s still cold, but the sky’s so much clearer. In Minnesota, spring always felt like one long snowbank under a gray sky.
I pull into the driveway of my little brick duplex just as the porch light clicks on. The house is rented—one side for me, one for a quiet retired teacher on the other—but the bones are solid, the street feels safe, and it’s ten minutes from the arena.
My place still smells like cardboard and new paint, but it’s starting to feel like home.
I kick off my shoes, swap my work clothes for sweats, and throw my hair into a messy bun. The new couch still feels too clean, like it’s waiting for someone to spill wine on it and make it real.
At exactly seven, the doorbell rings.
I pull the door open to find Kristy standing there with two bottles of wine, a bakery bag, and the kind of grin that makes it impossible not to smile back.
“There she is,” she says, stepping inside like she’s done it a hundred times. “Tell me the new job hasn’t eaten you alive yet.”
“Not yet,” I say, shutting the door behind her. “But it’s trying.”
She laughs and heads straight for the kitchen counter, unloading the bottles and pulling a pair of mismatched mugs out of the bag.
“I forgot if you unpacked the wine glasses yet, so I brought reinforcements. Also, lemon bars. Because obviously.”
I smile, the tension I didn’t know I was still carrying finally starting to loosen. “You’re a saint.”
“I try,” she says lightly, but her eyes are already scanning my face like she’s checking for damage. “Long day?”
“You could say that.”
Kristy hands me a mug and flops onto the couch. “Tell me everything.”
I sink into the cushion beside her and tuck my feet up. “The facility’s gorgeous, the staff’s solid, and I’m slowly learning the team.”
“And Declan?”
I blink. “You’re not even going to pretend to ease into that?”
Kristy shrugs, unbothered. “You’re working with your brother’s best friend, who also happens to be the moody king of the entire organization. The same guy who used to grunt instead of speak and only ever came around to hang out with David orshoot pucks in your driveway. I feel like I’ve earned one nosy question.”
I take a long sip before answering. “He’s… difficult.”
“Still hot?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
She snorts. “And?”
“And tense. Closed off. He did everything I asked, barely, but acted like each minute in that room was a personal betrayal.”
Kristy nods thoughtfully. “He probably didn’t expect it to be you.”
“Nope. Found out while strapped to the table. Zero warning. Thanks to David.”
Kristy winces. “Oof.”
