I accept a beer from Cam and lean against the wall. My eyes drift around the room, but they keep landing back on Cheyenne. She’s moved to stand near the Christmas tree with Nila, gesturing animatedly as she tells some story that has Nila doubled over in laughter. I’m suddenly struck by how easily she fits in here, with my teammates and their partners. She belongs in this world as much as any of us.
She catches me looking and raises an eyebrow, lifting her cup in a small toast before turning back to her conversation. I quickly avert my gaze, feeling inexplicably caught.
I take a long sip of my drink and try to focus on what Blaze is saying about our upcoming road trip, but my focus keeps wandering. When Cheyenne moves to refill her eggnog, I track her progress across the room. When she laughs at something Cam says, my head instinctively turns toward the sound. It’s like my body has developed some kind of Cheyenne-radar without bothering to inform my brain.
I’m mid-conversation with Kade when I notice Nate, one of our rookies, approaching Cheyenne with two drinks in hand. Something in my gut twists as I watch him hand her one, leaning in close—waytoo close—to say something in her ear. She smiles politely, but I can see the slight stiffness in her posture that wasn’t there moments ago.
Nate touches her arm, flashing what I mentally label his “game-day smile”—the one he uses for interviews and the throngs of women who wait outside the arena after games. I’ve never had a problem with it before. Heck, I’ve used a similar smile myself plenty of times.
But seeing it directed at Cheyenne makes my jaw clench so hard I’m surprised my teeth don’t crack.
“You okay, man?” Kade asks, following my line of sight. “You look like you’re about to commit murder.”
I realize I’m gripping my cup so tightly it’s starting to bend. “I’m fine,” I mutter, setting it down before I crush it completely. “Just remembered something.”
Without another word to Kade, I find myself moving across the room, weaving between teammates and their partners until I’m standing right beside Cheyenne. Nate’s hand is still on her arm, and he’s leaning in even closer now, his mouth nearly touching her ear.
“Hey, Nate,” I interrupt, my voice coming out sharper than I intended. “Did Coach change the practice schedule for tomorrow? I thought I heard something about an earlier start.”
Nate straightens, blinking at me in confusion. “Uh, not that I know of.”
“Might want to check your messages,” I say, maintaining eye contact just a beat too long. “Wouldn’t want you to be late.”
Cheyenne gives me a curious look, her head tilted slightly to the side. I can see the question forming in her eyes.
“Right. Yeah, I’ll do that.” He glances between us, clearly trying to read the situation. “I should probably make the rounds anyway. See you later, Cheyenne.”
As he walks away, Cheyenne turns to me with raised eyebrows. “What was that about?”
“What was what about?” I say, aiming for casual and probably missing by a mile.
“You know exactly what.” She folds her arms across her chest, making the reindeer nose on her sweater bob slightly. “Did Coach really change your practice time?”
“No idea.” I shrug, unable to meet her eyes. “Just making conversation.”
“Right.” She doesn’t sound convinced. “Because you normally interrupt people’s conversations to discuss practice schedules.”
I run a hand through my hair, suddenly feeling like an idiot. What am I doing? I have no right to interfere with who Cheyenne talks to. She’s not my girlfriend. She’s not even ... anything. She’s just Cheyenne. My sister’s best friend. The woman I’ve known for years without ever feeling this strange possessive instinct before.
“Just making sure the rookie knows his place,” I finally say.
Cheyenne studies me for a long moment, and I have the uncomfortable feeling she can see right through me. But instead of calling me out, she just smiles slightly.
“Well, thanks for the rescue, I guess. He was getting a little ... close.”
Relief washes over me. “No problem,” I manage, returning her smile. “What are friends for?”
The word “friends” sits oddly in my mouth, like it doesn’t taste right anymore.
We chat for a few more minutes about nothing in particular—the party, the upcoming holidays, herplans to take Jhett to some dog-friendly Christmas market this weekend. It’s easy and comfortable, like our conversations have always been.
Eventually, Genna calls Cheyenne over to settle some debate she’s having with Paul, and I find myself alone by the window, nursing a fresh drink and watching the party unfold around me. But my eyes keep returning to Cheyenne, drawn like a magnet to the way she laughs with Cam and Nila, the way she gestures when she’s making a point, the way the Christmas lights reflect in her dark hair.
She looks beautiful tonight. Not just in the objective way I’ve always recognized—of course Cheyenne is attractive, I’m not blind—but in a way that makes my chest ache slightly. I notice things I’ve never paid attention to before: the curve of her smile, the way she tucks her hair behind her ear when she’s listening intently, the graceful movement of her hands when she talks.
“You’re being weird tonight.”
I nearly jump at Genna’s voice. She’s materialized beside me, following my gaze across the room to where Cheyenne is now helping Nila rearrange some ornaments on the tree.
