“I’m working.”
“You’re avoiding.” Finn’s accent made the observation sound almost gentle, like a hobbit had imparted wisdom while standing at the center of his cute, little, round doorway. “It’s okay to care about him, you know. That’s not a character flaw.”
“I don’t—”
“Jacks.” He waited until I met his eyes. “I’ve been where you are, falling for someone you think you can’t have. It’s not easy, but pretending you don’t feel it doesn’t make it go away.”
“So what do I do?” I muttered, surrendering to a conversation I wasn’t ready for.
“I don’t have an easy answer. Just be honest with yourself. Whatever happens, you deserve to know your own heart.”
He squeezed my shoulder and moved away to help a customer, leaving me alone with my thoughts and a half-emptied ice bucket.
The game ended in a Lightning victory, their last win before boarding a plane for wherever the fuck they played next. The bar erupted in celebration, and I let myself get swept up in it, cheering along with everyone else even though my mind was elsewhere.
Skyler would be gone tomorrow.
For two weeks.
Fourteen days of texts and calls and this strange half-sort-of-not-relationship we’d built out of tacos and inside jokes.
My phone buzzed around midnight, after the crowds had thinned and I was doing final cleanup.
PuckingSkylerShaw: Good game. You watch?
Me: Caught some of it between the chaos. You looked good out there.
PuckingSkylerShaw: Thanks. Last one for a while.
Me: I know. Two weeks.
PuckingSkylerShaw: Fourteen days.
PuckingSkylerShaw: Not that I’m counting.
Me: Obviously not. That would be weird.
PuckingSkylerShaw: So weird.
PuckingSkylerShaw: Totally not something I’d do.
Me: Get some sleep, hockey star. Early flight.
PuckingSkylerShaw: I know, I know. Still, I wanted to say . . .
The dots danced for a long time, so long I wondered if he’d forgotten he’d left me on a cliffhanger.
PuckingSkylerShaw: I’ll miss hanging out. You know, while I’m gone.
My heart stopped.
Then it started again at double speed.
Me: Same. It’ll be weird not having you pop in demanding the booth in the back corner.
PuckingSkylerShaw: That’s MY booth now. I’ve claimed it. I expect a little silver sign with my name on it when I come home. Maybe gold. Yeah, make that a gold plaque. Got it?
Me: I’ll jump right on that, sir. “Property of Skyler Shaw. Touch at your own risk.”
