"Thanks, Sarah."
"Derek worries about you. More than he says." She was quiet for a second. "I do too, if that matters."
I didn't know what to say to that, so I didn't say anything.
She was quiet for a moment, her hands shoved in her coat pockets. Then she pulled out her phone and looked at it like she was deciding something.
"Can I show you something stupid?" she asked. "I've been sitting on it for weeks because the timing was never right, but you're leaving tomorrow and I'm going to burst if I don't tell someone."
"Sure."
She turned the screen toward me.
The photo showed Joel in a black suit, his hand on another man's back. They were both smiling for the cameras. The man was taller than him, broader, the kind of face that looked like it belonged on a movie poster.
"Joel Coffey is dating Milo Hayes," Sarah said. "The pop star. They were at some charity thing in Berlin last week."
I looked at the photo and kept my face neutral.
Two months. Two months since Joel climbed into my truck and kissed me like he was trying to take something apart. Two months since he'd said my name in that voice, since he'd told me he was moving to Colorado Springs and watched my face while I tried not to let anything show.
I'd been telling myself I was over it.
"I've been dying to talk about this," Sarah continued. "He's been so private for years, and now suddenly he's at public events with this guy? I think it's serious."
"Yeah." My voice came out flat. "Looks serious."
The silence stretched out between us. Inside, someone had changed the music to something slower.
"I met him," I said. "At the rink. He was training there for a while."
"Oh." She processed that. "That must have been cool."
"Yeah."
She waited, but I gave her nothing else.
"Okay," she said finally. She reached out and squeezed my arm through my jacket. "Come back inside when you're ready. Armijo's doing karaoke and it's going to be terrible."
She went back in, and the door swung shut behind her.
I stood in the alley for a long time, my back against the cold brick.
Joel Coffey was with someone who got to stand next to him at charity events, public and proud, while I hid behind a bar in New Mexico with a secret I couldn't say out loud. He was with someone who got to touch him like it was nothing, like it was easy.
My phone was in my pocket. His number was still in it, unused. I'd looked at it a hundred times in the past two months,typed out messages I never sent, deleted them, started over, deleted those too.
I pulled it out. Opened my contacts. Scrolled to the number with no name.
My thumb hovered over the delete button.
The door opened again, and Santos stuck his head out. "Yo, Piper. Armijo's about to sing Journey. You gotta see this."
I put the phone away.
"Coming," I said.
I went back inside and stood in the back while Armijo butchered "Don't Stop Believin'" and everyone sang along anyway. I let the guys buy me one more shot I didn't drink. I hugged everyone goodbye and promised to text and said all the things you say when your life is changing and everyone is happy for you.
