“You’re not gluten-free.”
“Thanks, Captain Obvious,” Sophie chuckles. “I’m not, but I’ve had the gluten-free bread here before because Cameron’s celiac, and honestly, I like it more than their regular brioche bun.”
“Cameron is celiac?” Kennedy’s eyes practically bug out of her head. “But then he couldn’t have eaten my cake,” she sputters, throwing her hands in the air.
“Eaten your cake? Is that a euphemism?” Sophie scrunches her nose. “Oh my God. Are you hooking up with my brother?”
“No, but I am concerned at how excited you seem by that idea,” Kennedy says, her cheeks turning a violent shade of pink. She turns to me, clearly desperate for a change in topic. “What are you getting, My?”
I tear my gaze away from the nearby jars of pickles. “Oh, I haven’t decided yet.”
“What’s going on with you?” she asks, elbowing me in the side. “You’ve been zoning out all morning.”
“Nothing, I’m?—”
“So help me…” She levels me with a glare. “If you say you’re fine, I’m going to start singing ‘Tits and Ass’ fromA Chorus Lineat the top of my lungs.”
I shudder at the second-hand embarrassment that would cause.
She taps her foot against the worn vinyl floor, focus still fixed on me. “Well?”
“Cole told me he loved me,” I blurt out, voice shaky. “And I literally just stammered the word ‘I’ and looked at him with dumb fucking Bambi eyes.”
“Okay,” Kennedy says, drawing out each syllable. “At least you didn’t thank him. That would’ve been way worse.”
I huff out a laugh, though nerves still riot in my belly. “True. But now he’s acting sort of distant and preoccupied. He promises he’s fine and we’re good, but I can’t help but think that’s not the case.”
Sophie plucks a bag of potato chips from a nearby rack as we all shuffle a couple of feet forward in line. “It’s probably because of the trade, not you. I wouldn’t worry too much.”
My heart stops as her words register. “Trade?”
Sophie looks from Kennedy to me, her eyes widening. “Wait, did he not tell you?”
“Tell mewhat?” I ask as the cashier hollers, “Next!”
Eyes now shining with sympathy, she bites on her lower lip. “He’s being traded to the San Diego Devils.”
The cashier shouts again, this time louder, but I don’t move. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. My mind spins like an out-of-control circus monkey and my face heats as I try to fend off tears. Happiness—for Cole, because the Devils are his dream team, his hometown team—wars with the hurt that comes with realizing he didn’t deem me important enough to trust with this information. Because this move will undoubtedly affect our relationship.
A hand taps against my cheek. It’s not a slap, but it’s definitely not a gentle pat either. But it does the trick, knocking me out of my catatonic stupor. Kennedy waves the group behind us to the cashier, claiming we need a minute.
“Why wouldn’t he tell me?” I whisper, rubbing the center of my chest as if that’ll help ease the sudden tightness there. “Isn’t that the sort of thing you tell the person you claim to love?”
The worry etched on Sophie’s face dissolves into empathy. “I’m so sorry. I thought you knew. The deal hasn’t been finalized, but with all the rumors floating around, I was sure he would’ve talked to you by now.”
The weight in my chest strengthens, making it hard to breathe. I may like hockey, but I like it because of Cole. I’m not a die-hard fan who tracks trades and strategies. I don’t debate about how some left-short defenseman compares to a second-tier prospect or whatever. I simply watch Cole’s games, cheer for him, and call it a night. And he knows this. HeknowsI’m far enough removed from the sport that I wouldn’t have heard the rumors. God, I’m such a fucking idiot.
Sophie shuffles from one foot to the other. “I only know because I overheard Logan and your brother talking about it when I stopped by Cam’s to return the vacuum I borrowed. I’m really sorry.”
A humorless laugh bubbles out of me. “So my brother knew, too.”
And also didn’t think it was necessary to tell me.Great.
“If Cole hasn’t told you, it’s probably because he’s?—”
“I don’t care why he didn’t tell me.” I cut her off, my voice shaky. “The point is that he didn’t.”
The sinking sensation in my stomach only grows the longer I process the information. The indifference that usually settles over me like a long-lost friend who’s been waiting in the shadows, ready to take center stage once again, is nowhere to be found. My mind and body seem determined to force me to feel every crack and fissure as my heart breaks. And it’spainful.
