Shadow crosses his features like clouds over sun. “Do you remember my former teammate Mark Bailey? He was randomly here at the game. I was just surprised.”
“Oh, that is random.” My shrug feels too casual for the tension in his shoulders. “Maybe he’s just passing through and decided to catch a hockey game.”
“Yeah, maybe.” The words fall flat, but he forces brightness back into his tone. “So, I’ll see you in a bit?”
My smile comes unbidden. “Yes, see you soon.”
The drive home blurs past, my mind already in my closet. Showing up in my athletic trainer uniform isn’t an option—hours of sweat and anxiety have left their mark. But this isn’t about impressing some random guy. This is Oliver, and I want to feel... something. Put together. Confident. Sexy, even.
Steam fogs the bathroom mirror as I rush through a shower,washing away the game but not the anticipation. My closet door swings open to reveal a collection of practical choices and forgotten dresses, none quite right for drinks with an ex who might be becoming something else entirely.
Jeans and a t-shirt would be safe. Years ago, I’d promised myself to never chase a man who wouldn’t want me in my simplest form. But tonight defies those rules. This isn’t some forgettable hookup or casual fling. This is Oliver, with all our messy history and uncertain future.
My phone weighs heavy in my hand. Jemma would know exactly what to wear, her fashion sense as natural as breathing. But explaining who I’m meeting would unleash a storm of protective fury. She’d accuse him of manipulation, me of weakness, as if five years hadn’t taught me anything about my own mind.
Hannah’s number appears on screen instead. Same neighborhood, same size, and most importantly, someone who might understand nuance. Hopefully, she’s home from her shop, Knit Happens.
“Hey,” she answers on the second ring.
“Thank God.” Relief floods through me.
“What is it?” Her tone sharpens to a blade. “Did you faint? I’m on my way.”
“Oh, no, no! Sorry. Everything’s fine... I just... Do you have a dress I can wear for a date tonight? Something sexy but that doesn’t look like I’m trying too hard.”
“Of course. Um, hold on. Gimme ten minutes and I’ll be over.”
“Thank you. You’re a life saver.”
My phone buzzes with Oliver’s text while I wait, the Portsmouth Pizzeria lighting up my screen. The same place we’d accidentally met last month, when seeing him had knocked the breath from my lungs. His contact sits unchanged in my phone,a digital ghost I could never quite exorcise. Some doors, even closed, deserve to keep their handles.
Hannah’s knock echoes through my house. “Come in!”
She appears in my bedroom doorway, winter dresses draped over her arms like armor for a different kind of battle. “Okay,” she says, breathless from hurrying. “Who are you going out with? Is it David?”
Her nose wrinkles at the bartender’s name. David with his easy smile and easier exits, never asking for more than I’m willing to give, never giving enough to matter.
“No.” David hasn’t crossed my mind in weeks. “It’s... Do you remember the hockey player that Noah was so crazy about?”
“Who just moved to town?” The dresses lower slowly to my bed as understanding dawns across her face. “Wait. Is that Oliver?”
“Yeah.” My teeth find my lip again, a nervous habit I thought I’d outgrown.
Her jaw drops, processing this information like a computer encountering unexpected code. “Wait. What? You’re going out with Oliver?”
“Kind of.” The bed dips under my weight as I perch on its edge. “We’re going out to get drinks with the head coach to celebrate the night’s win.”
Her frown carves shallow lines between her eyebrows. “I thought he was terrible to you.”
“He was... Years ago. We’ve hung out a little bit since he moved to town, and he’s... different.”
“Different, how?”
“Like how his values have changed? When his team won tonight, it was so different from when he was playing. Everything was so serious then, and now it’s just... He’s less high strung.” Air fills my lungs for what feels like the first time all evening. “Also, I had a part in our relationship being what it was.I never told him that it wasn’t okay for him to talk to me like he did.”
“It wasn’t your fault?—”
“I know it wasn’t my fault. Everyone is responsible for their behavior. Looking back, though, I wonder what might have been different if I pointed out how wrong his behavior was. Would he have changed it? Would things be different now?”
