Georgia, Kylie, and I jumped around, the dogs barking and joining into our celebrations.
“Jesus.” Georgia laughed. “That was a good game.”
“The team is on fire this season!” Kylie said.
“No joke.” Georgia grabbed the popcorn and started carrying things to the kitchen.
We weren’t that far into the regular season, but if the Hawks kept this up, they’d have a real shot at the play-offs this year. Part of me wished Derek were here to see it. He would’ve gotten a kick out of playing with Holden Hansley. And I would’ve loved to have heard what he had to say about Carson. Kovi was cocky and mouthy, but the fans loved him. And our rivals loved to hate him.
Frasier and I were still flying under the radar, though Kylie had convinced me to post a few images of us. It wasn’t clear that it was Frasier in the pictures with me, just close-ups of our hands linked on my thigh. Another with two breakfast dishes and a simple caption. So far, most of the comments had been positive.
People speculated that Frasier and I were together. Our close friends and family knew the truth, including Derek’s parents, who had been sweet and supportive. But it was as if they’d all formed a protective bubble around us. I loved them all the more for it.
I followed Georgia to the kitchen, where she bustled around, wiping down the counters. “Thanks, but you don’t have to clean up.”
“It’s fine,” she said. “I’m happy to.”
My phone chimed with a new text from Logan—a picture of Frasier as he shook hands with one of the Dallas players. Logan’s season wouldn’t start for another month or so, so she’d gone to Dallas to watch the game and visit her brother, Levi. We’d missed her tonight, but we’d texted in our group chat the entire game. She’d been rooting for Dallas—her brother’s team—of course. And it had been an aggressive game from start to finish.
Kylie called out from the living room, “Bryn, your man is being interviewed.”
I raced into the living room, eager to see Frasier. I had been missing him like crazy since the season had started. We made every minute count, but between his training and my work schedule, we hadn’t gotten to spend nearly enough time together. During the week, I had work. When I was off on the weekends, he often had games.
I had yet to attend any home games—I didn’t want to draw attention to myself or the fact that we were dating. And this was his first away game.
On-screen, the reporter asked him some questions, and Frasier slicked back his hair, sweaty from the game. He was still dressed in his pads, and I knew he was probably more than ready to shower. But he spoke eloquently, praising his teammates for their defensive and offensive maneuvers while also commending the Dallas team for their competitive level of play.
My chest swelled. I was so proud of him for the way he’d played this past season, the fire he’d brought to the ice. It was a testament to his mental strength, to his resilience. But then the interview ended, and I was left feeling his absence again.
“Oh boy,” Georgia said, shaking her head. “You’ve got it bad, huh?”
I’d been so convinced that it wouldn’t be possible to feel this way again. That I wouldn’t love again. And here I was, staring at an image of the man who’d changed my mind, feeling both excitement and trepidation.
Frasier supported me unconditionally, not that he’d ever said those words. Not that he needed to. It was in his actions, in everything he did.
Kylie smiled, and Georgia pulled me in for a hug. I didn’t have to say anything because they knew. They’d been there for all of it, and they saw how happy I was with Frasier.
“Don’t let anyone else see you looking at him like that, or there will be no more keeping this secret.” Georgia was grinning as she said it.
“Everyone already suspects that you’re dating,” Kylie said, though that was no surprise. People had speculated on our relationship ever since Derek’s death because of all the time we spent together. “And they’re excited for you. Most of the comments fielded by my team have been supportive. People want to believe in finding love after loss, and you’re proving it’s possible.”
That was a relief. And even if she hadn’t said the words aloud, I heard the subtle push:it’s time.
I knew Frasier was ready to go public; he’d been ready. He’d been nothing but patient—letting me dictate the timing. And yet…I continued to hesitate.
Biscuit scratched at the back door. I’d never been so eager to let the dogs out. “Come on,” I said, opening the door for her and slipping into my garden shoes. “I need to water the garden.” And then to my friends, I added, “Do either of you want to take home some tomatoes and basil? They’re growing like crazy.”
I was talking a million miles a minute, but I couldn’t help it. I knew Kylie was right, but I was scared.
“I wish,” Kylie said, quickly masking the disappointment that had overtaken her expression. “And thanks for the offer, but I never have time to cook.”
Biscuit bounded through the door, and Bacon followed, with Georgia last. “I still can’t believe you grew all of this.”
I laughed, taking it all in. “Neither can I.”
But I loved having a garden, especially the fresh produce. I’d gone down the rabbit hole of social media garden influencers, and I was obsessed. And my garden was flourishing. I had almost more produce than I knew what to do with. And therewere flowers everywhere. I’d planted a ton of native varieties that attracted pollinators, and butterflies visited almost daily.
The space had transformed from something depressing that I wanted to avoid into my happy place. It was magical out here, especially at night. Frasier and I loved hauling out a bunch of blankets and pillows and watching a movie while we cuddled with the dogs. We might not have much time together, but we certainly made every moment count.
