I followed at my own pace, slow enough not to look like a weirdo, fast enough not to lose her in the crowd. I’d thought about her oftenthe last few years but never reached out. Maybe the fear of being turned down prevented me from reaching out, but I wouldn’t make that mistake again after tonight. I was getting her number or making sure I still had hers. I watched, letting myself check her out now that she wasn’t facing me, and damn. Em Sanders was so pretty.
She barreled into a tall guy in a baseball cap, nearly knocking the drink out of his hand, and he caught her in one arm like it was instinct. I knew that face—hard not to. Theo Sanders. Former Central State hockey legend turned NHL star. His wife, Audrey, was right there too, hugging Em with the same enthusiasm, and beside them was another couple. Quentin Hawthorne and Logan, if I remembered right—Audrey’s brother and his wife.
I hung back a step, watching the chaos unfold. Em had her arms wrapped around all of them in some huddle, bouncing on her toes, laughing in a way few saw. Pure joy. She’d always been tactile—the kind of person who showed love with touch—and seeing her fold into her people like that? Yeah, I felt that shit in my chest.
She waved me over, tugging on my arm when I got close. “You remember my brother Theo, right? This is Audrey—you’ve probably seen her, she’s everywhere with the team. And this is Quentin and Logan. Quentin practically saved my life once, and Logan’s my girl. We go way back.”
Theo shook my hand, firm grip, easy grin. “Abbott. Hell of a year with the Rampage.”
“Appreciate it,” I said, leaning back like we weren’t surrounded by a hundred sweaty alumni. “You’re still holding it down with the Acorns, yeah?”
Theo rolled his eyes. “For now. Contract’s almost up. Starting to think being closer to Em wouldn’t kill me. Chicago’s got decent hockey last I checked.”
Em groaned, smacking his arm. “Don’t start. You’re not moving here just to hover over me.”
Theo ignored her completely, grin widening. “Could do worse than finishing up in this city. Better food, good fans, and less snow than Minnesota.”
“Barelyless snow.” Logan cut in, tugging her jean jacket open. Underneath, she was repping one of Em’s custom jerseys, rhinestoned to hell and back, the Hawthorne name glittering across the shoulders. I’d seen Em’s posts, loving her designs from afar the last few years. “Besides, we’ve been talking about moving to the city too. Quentin wants to spend more time here. And I’ve got the wardrobe for it now.”
Em’s cheeks flushed pink. “Oh my God, you wore one of mine?”
“Hell yes,” Logan said, winking. “Free advertising. Half the bar stopped me to ask where I got it.”
Theo barked a laugh. “I’m telling you, Em. You should talk to Marty in advertising. He’d love to bring you on with the team.”
Em shook her head, her lips turning down in a way I knew well. She didnotlike what her brother suggested. “I’m not using you to gain traction, Theo.”
“It’s not that, you know it.” Theo put an arm around Em, hugging her for a beat before releasing her. “Hey, we’re meeting up with some of the hockey team. Heard Cal Holt is here and even Coach Reiner. Want to go say hi, but we’ll check-in with you in a bit?”
“Sounds good.” Em beamed at her brother and Audrey, then waved as they walked farther down the pier.
I waited while she stood there until they disappeared into the crowd. She turned back to me, cheeks flushed, smile still wide, like the energy of her people had supercharged her.
“You’ve got a whole army,” I said, stuffing my hands into mypockets to keep from reaching for her. My sister Nat and her kiddo and I were close—I loved that kid. Her and I texted often, but we weren’t close with our parents at all. We definitely didn’t have fun group chats with them like some of my teammates. They were average parents and made sure I had a home and food to eat, but they weren’t flexible. If you disagreed with them about anything, they’d stop talking to you for a while.Then, we’d pretend everything was fine and they didn’t pout for two months.
“Perks of being a Sanders,” she teased, tugging on my sleeve as we walked back toward the lights. “Loud, dramatic, and impossible to get rid of.”
“I’ll take it,” I said easily, bumping my shoulder against hers. “Though for the record, I don’t think anyone could out-drama you.”
Her mouth fell open, playful outrage sparking in her eyes. “Excuse me? You’re callingmedramatic?”
I leaned in, close enough that she had to tilt her chin up. “Remember sophomore year? You made me sneak into the student center at midnight because you ‘needed’ a giant inflatable wolf for your dorm room.”
She laughed so hard she nearly doubled over. “That was not dramatic. That was school spirit.”
“Uh-huh.” I grinned, steering us toward a food stand. “Pretty sure it was against two rules and a fire code.”
Her eyes sparkled, and when I handed her a basket of cheese curds, her fingers brushed mine—light, but enough to make my chest ache. She didn’t move away, didn’t pull back. Just let it linger.
“So,” I said, pretending like my pulse wasn’t pounding, “what’s on our adventure List tonight? Or are you losing your edge?”
She narrowed her eyes, that familiar smirk tugging at hermouth. “You’re on, Abbott. First one to finish these without making a face wins.”
I popped one in my mouth immediately, the molten cheese nearly burning a hole through my tongue. “Worth it,” I mumbled around it, making her crack up so hard she snorted.
That sound—that joy—was everything.
The night derailed from there: her dragging me to pose with the painted silver street performer, me daring her to try the spiciest hot sauce at a booth, both of us buying stupid tourist sunglasses we absolutely didn’t need. Every time she leaned into me laughing, every time her hand brushed my arm, I let myself believe this was more than nostalgia. That maybe, finally, I could stop playing it safe.
