Boone is trudging across his property to his Airstream as we pull out.
“What’s up with him?” Cash follows my gaze.
I shrug. “He’s not so bad once you get used to him.”
“I don’t know about that.” He turns up the volume, and the short drive passes with a little conversation and a lot of good music.
The diner is exactly what you’d expect. Red vinyl booths. Checkered floors. A jukebox in the corner playing some 90’s hit.
We slide into a booth by the window.
“So,” Cash says, studying the menu. “The playoffs… that’s a big deal, right?”
“Yeah, it’s like winning a Grammy in the hockey world.” At least, that’s how Mia described it.
“How long have you and Hockey Boy been together?” The thick plastic pages squeak as he flips through the menu.
“His name is Miles.”
“I know. But Hockey Boy is more fun.” He grins.
I roll my eyes. “A few months. I met him in December.”
“What can I get you?” the waitress asks. I order a grilled cheese with tomato soup, and Cash gets a deluxe burger.
When she leaves, I ask, “What about you? Are you dating?”
I’ve never seen Cash’s name linked with anyone. But I don’t keep up with that stuff.
“Nah. Not really my thing.”
“Relationships?”
He shrugs. “It’s hard with this career.”
“Oh.” I imagine it’s difficult, but— “How so?”
“Time and attention are things most people want in a relationship. Touring, a different city every night, recording,press—it doesn’t leave much time to build a connection, let alone keep one.”
Miles and I are different, though. We’ve already built a connection. We understand each other’s careers. He gets that I need to do this, and I get that hockey comes first for him.
But we barely see each other as is, and we live in the same house. We squeeze in mornings and late nights. And Mondays.
What happens when I’m on the road? When it’s not just schedules that keep us apart, butactualdistance?
We can make it work.
I pick at my napkin. “You’ve never tried?”
He laughs. “Why, you askin’? You interested?”
“What—no, of course not?—”
“Calm down. I’m kidding.” He sips his Coke, then smiles. “You’re not really my type.”
I let out a breath, relief flooding through me. Not that I thought—but still. It’s nice to have it clear. “Good to know.”
“Besides, even if you were, Hockey Boy would kill me. And I like my face the way it is.”
