“He’s being a captain.”
“I think he’s trying to wear us down with emotional warfare.”
Liam keeps going, listing out all the reasons Campbell needs to rethink how we do practice, and I let my attention drift back toward the queue and the music playing around us again.
A new song kicks in. “Again” by Lenny Kravitz. The opening notes hit me instantly and my stomach oddly seizes and twists.
Slowly, I look back toward the screen, at the songs.
“Electric Love”.
“Talk to Me”.
My pulse kicks hard against my ribs when I look at the account name and recognize who it is immediately. I knew it.
Jewelsy.
Beside me, the bartender pauses while drying off a glass, catching me staring.
“You like the playlist?” he asks with a grin. “Been kinda invested in it myself this week.”
That pulls my attention fully toward him. “What do you mean?”
He hooks the towel over his shoulder and nods toward the touchscreen. “This woman’s been coming in every day around lunch. Sits at the end of the bar, orders her crabcake sandwich, and barely makes conversation.” He shrugs. “But every single time, she queues up basically the same songs.”
A strange pressure builds inside my chest. “Jewelsy, right?”
“That’s her. The jewelry designer down the street.” He points vaguely toward the window. “Owns a shop nearby. Dark-ish hair. Pretty smile.”
MyVivian.
The bartender shrugs. “Honestly, I figured she was going through something. The songs are a little…” He waves a hand. “Specific.”
Liam grabs his phone now. “All this talk about the playlist, I feel like I should add a song.”
He busies himself adding to the queue, while I let my eyes lift back toward it. It’s not random, it’s not someone coming in to hear their favorite songs over and over.
She’s been leaving me a message.
CHAPTER 29
VIVIAN
The engine idles for a second longer than it needs to.
I don’t turn it off right away. I sit there, hands still on the wheel, staring straight ahead at the practice complex like it might give me some kind of warning about what I’m walking into.
I catch my reflection in the rearview mirror and straighten slightly, smoothing a hand over my hair, then my jacket. Like that’s going to do anything about the knot sitting squarely in my chest.
You’re fine. It’s okay you haven’t talked all week. Today you’re going to see him.I swallow that thought down, reach across the passenger seat, and pick up the trophy.
It fits in both hands, about the size of a water bottle, the puck mounted clean and solid at the base. The piece in the center catches what little light there is, subtle but also exactly what I’d been chasing.
I run my thumb over the edge of it, a small, steadying motion.
“For the girls,” I whisper, like that’s the only thing this is about.
Then I kill the engineand step out of the car.
