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Hallie

“And you remember where the laundry room is?”

“Wren.” I chuckle. “I only stopped working on your house a couple of months ago. Of course I know where the laundry room is.”

“You’re right. I don’t know why I’m being so weird. It’s just that I haven’t lived with someone else in a long time and I want to make sure you’re comfortable.”

If she saw the state of the apartment I’m moving out of, she wouldn’t be worried about my comfort. Before it was renovated, this house would’ve been a major step up from my previous living situation, and now that it’s had a makeover... well, now it’s far nicer than what Wren’s brother is charging me for rent.

“And are you comfortable?” I ask, setting my duffel bag on my new bed. “I know you don’t need or probably want a roommate, so if this is making you—”

“I’m happy you’re here. Truly. It’ll be fun.”

I offer her a grateful smile as I unpack my clothes. “I think it will be too. And shoot, if we end up hating each other by the end of it, at least it’s only temporary. You can forget I ever existed come May.”

Wren laughs. “I don’t think that’ll be an issue. And besides, I need a Tyler Braden introduction, so if worse comes to worst, I’ll just fake as if I like you.”

“Works for me. I have a feeling you’re going to be the best fake friend and roommate I’ve ever had.”

The truth is there’s nothing about Wren that’s fake. She’s a sincerely nice and thoughtful person. She always provided coffee and homemade desserts to the contractors who were working at the house this summer. She’d offer me rides when my car was acting up, which was initially embarrassing, seeing as I work for a luxury interior design brand and my vehicle doesn’t exactly scream “extravagance and style.” And when she learned about my second job and the hours I was pulling just to make ends meet, she offered me a room to rent in a price range that was much more manageable than what I was paying to live downtown.

Over the months, we learned that we both have brothers—her three to my one. We bonded over the fact that we’re both transplants to the area—her from the West Coast and me from the East Coast and a different part of the Midwest, depending how you look at it. And we quickly learned that we’re both so busy, between her school and my work, that living with each other will probably feel a whole lot like living alone.

So no, there’s nothing fake about our friendship. And it’s been a bit of a confidence boost knowing that as a twenty-five-year-old, I was able to make a new friend in a new city. I was quick to make friends when I was younger, but that’s not always easy to do as an adult.

Even though Wren is moving back to her hometown after graduation, Chicago is where I’m planning to stay long-term, and I’m hopeful that she’s simply the first in a long line of new friendships I make here.

“Hey, did my neighbor ever reach out to the firm about hiring you?” Wren asks.

“He did! Thank you so much for the referral. I need one more big project before my internship is done, and living so close now, this will be perfect.”

“Glad to hear it. His bachelor pad needs an upgrade. When do you start?”

“Soon, I hope. I’ll get the project overview during our staff meeting on Monday.”

She gestures to the bag on my bed. “Can I help you with anything?”

“I’ll be okay. I still need to grab the last of my boxes from the apartment when I’m downtown tonight.”

“Oh, are you working at the bar?”

“No, unfortunately. I tried to pick up a shift, but my manager denied the request. Said I’d have too many overtime hours if I worked tonight. But I do have a date and we’re meeting at the office downtown, so I’ll grab the last of the things from the apartment afterward.”

Wren perks up, leaning off the doorway. “A date? Hallie Hart, way to bury the lead.”

“Don’t get all excited.”

“Who is he?”

“A new client of Tyler’s. He recently bought a condo that Tyler is designing for him, and we crossed paths at the office a couple of weeks ago.”

“Well, don’t you sound overjoyed that a wealthy guy with great taste is taking you out on a date.”

I chuckle. “I don’t know. I’m flattered, but I’ve been out of the dating game for quite a while and frankly, I’d rather catch up on sleep. But Tyler asked me to go and I’m trying to kiss his ass so he hires me full-time when my internship is over next spring.”

“Seems like sound reasoning to me. Worst-case scenario, you meet someone new and get a free dinner out of the whole thing. Where are you guys going?”

“I’m not sure where he made reservations, but he told me to dress warm.”

“Weird.” She pushes off the doorway again, this time to leave. “Well, let me know if that shitty car of yours breaks down and you need a ride home. I’m happy to come pick you up.”

“Hey, don’t hate on my car. She’s doing just fine, thank you very much, and I don’t need her to hear you talking shit about her.”

“Hallie, I can practically smell the oil leak from here. Promise me when you get that full-time position, the first thing you’ll do is buy yourself a new car.”

I parked my “shitty” car in the farthest spot in the employee parking garage, hoping no one will notice it. Wren wasn’t entirely wrong. It’s run-down and definitely has an oil leak.

It has an everything leak, if I’m being honest.

I told Brian I’d meet him at the restaurant, but he was adamant about this being a one-car parking situation. He offered to pick me up at home, but this is a first date, and I don’t know the man, so there’s not a chance in hell I was going to give him my address.

The design firm is common ground.

He seems normal. He’s a handsome guy, a bit shy and nervous, but that’s okay, I think.

Truthfully, I don’t really know what my type is or if I even have one. It’s been so long since I’ve even been interested in someone that it almost seems like I’m starting from scratch and figuring out what I like. I’ve been a bit too preoccupied the last few years to think about dating.

But if I want to get all honest with myself, the idea of trying to get to know someone again sounds terrifying, and maybe that’s partly why I’ve busied myself so much over the years—as an excuse to avoid it.

So, this shy and nervous thing Brian has going for him seems safe to me.

“Are you moving here to Chicago?” I finally break the silence while he drives. “Tyler said you bought a condo here.”

“I won’t be living here full-time, no. I’ve got a place in South Florida and a house in Arizona, but I’m planning to be here every few months.”

“That’s a lot of properties to manage.”

He chuckles to himself, some of his nerves dissipating. “I have someone who takes care of them when I’m away.”

I pause. “And who is that someone?”

He doesn’t answer and my attention immediately darts to his left hand, looking for a wedding ring indent or a change in skin tone from the lack of sun. There’s neither, but my woman’s intuition is on high alert.

This is what I hate about dating, trying to learn as much as possible by not only listening to what they say, but reading between the lines. It’s a whole lot easier when you grow up with the person and innately know their character inside and out.

Brian takes a right onto another block, and it’s the same route I use when going from the design offices to the bar I work at.

“Where are we going to dinner?” I ask.

“It’s a surprise.” His eyes flit to me, a mischievous grin on his lips as he leans back, driving his too-expensive car with one hand. “You look nice tonight, by the way.”

That shy facade is quickly slipping into charming territory.

I return my attention to the passenger window. “Thank you. So do you.”

“Do you like sports?”

“Playing or watching?”

“In this case, watching.”

“Sometimes.” I glance back at him suspiciously. “Why do you ask?”

His smile turns proud, not an ounce of shyness to be found. “Just curious.”

Brian’s speed slows as we edge into a line of traffic, and I watch as the sidewalks fill with pedestrians all moving in the same direction we’re headed. Restaurants and bars along the block are packed with patrons, the excited energy palpable even from inside the car.

Music is blasting from down the street, buildings are illuminated with red-colored lights, Chicago team flags are hung in their windows, and up ahead there are traffic monitors ushering cars into certain lanes and parking lots.

Anxiety prickles my skin. That intuition I was referring to is now buzzing with alarm.

“Brian, why did you ask me to dress warm?”

He chuckles but doesn’t answer. Instead, he rolls down his window to talk to a traffic monitor, and this time when I watch out the passenger side and take a closer look, I realize all those people outside are wearing red, black, and white.

And they’re all headed to the United Center on the next street over.

No. No, no, no. We can’t go there.

“Are we going to the United Center?” I ask, the nerves now evident in my voice.

Once again, he doesn’t answer me, smiling smugly as if he expects me to be thoroughly impressed. But I’m not. I’m terrified.

All I can do is pray that tonight is a Devils’ game. Basketball... basketball would be fine.

“My buddy has season tickets and couldn’t make it tonight,” he explains. “Hope you like hockey.”

Fuck my life.

I take a closer look at the crowd swarming the arena. Most are wearing Raptors jerseys. His jersey.

My mouth goes dry. “We could’ve walked from the office.”

And I could’ve run in the opposite direction as soon as I realized where we were going.

“I wanted to give you an opportunity to ride in this car.” Brian turns into a private parking lot. “It’s pretty sweet, isn’t it?”

That shy front is long gone. He’s fully smug now.

Brian is speaking to me as we go through the private security and scan our tickets, but I’m not listening. I’d blame it on the rowdy crowd in the halls as soon as we enter the arena, but if I’m being honest, the only thing I can hear is the ringing in my ears.

My entire body is intensely aware of my surroundings because I shouldn’t be here. I’ve avoided this building since moving to Chicago six months ago. I wouldn’t even dare walk the same street, and now here I am, inside.

Brian leads the way to find our section and I follow behind, eyes nervously tracking the area around me. This arena is huge. It’s got to sit, what? Twenty thousand? He’s never going to see me in the crowd of this many people.

But they’re not just people. They’re fans .. . wearing his jersey.

We round a corner, and my heart drops, halting me in place, when I come face to face with him .

Well, a twenty-foot version of him, printed onto a sign and hung from the rafters for all his fans to see. There’s another on the wall in a different pose. A life-size cutout version that kids are taking pictures with down the hall.

I can hear my blood pumping in my ears as I look at that face. Those green eyes. That sneaky smile.

I’ve seen it too many times to count.

“Hallie.” My name brings me out of my daze to find Brian waiting by an older gentleman, holding out his phone to show him our tickets. “Let’s go. We don’t want to miss puck drop.”

Yes, I do. Truthfully, I’d like to miss the whole game.

A large velvet curtain blocks the walkway from the seats. “Have fun,” the older man says as he holds it open for us to enter.

The ice is blinding white. The music is blaring. The chill is sudden.

Brian puts his hand on my lower back, ushering me to walk ahead of him. So I do just that, holding on to the stair railing and climbing up—away from the ice.

He laughs, nodding in the opposite direction. “Our seats are down there, Hallie.”

Of fucking course they are.

Head down, I don’t look at the ice as I follow him. I watch the back of Brian’s feet, willing him to turn into an aisle soon, but he doesn’t. He keeps climbing down, closer to the rink.

I feel eyes on us as we pass loyal fans. Neither of us is wearing team colors or jerseys yet we’re closing in on the seats by the ice.

I’d give them my seat if I could.

The air is noticeably colder the further down we go. It’s too close. Way too close, and still Brian doesn’t stop walking.

“Are you sure we didn’t pass the row yet?”

“Positive.”

I risk a glance up at the rink and God, it feels like I’m practically on it. No players are currently skating on the ice, so I allow myself a moment to take it in.

He’s everywhere .

From the player intros on the jumbo screen to the jerseys surrounding me. It’s a different number than he used to wear, but I knew he changed it when he got drafted into the league.

“This is us,” Brian says, edging his way through the fans that have their hands and noses pressed to the glass, hoping for a closeup glimpse of one of their favorite players when they skate out.

Because that’s where we’re sitting. On the glass. Row one.

“Chicago defends twice on this side,” he continues as if it’s the best thing in the world that we get to sit behind their goalie for two of the three periods.

But he plays defense.

I need to get out of here. Fake sick. Lie about an emergency, but if my heart keeps pounding at the rate it is, I might not have to fake much.

“Thank you for coming out with me tonight,” Brian says, palm meeting my knee. “I was so happy when Tyler told me you said yes.”

God, I’m the worst. This guy is trying to impress me and I’m over here having an existential crisis.

Before I can decide if I should stay or leave, the lights drop low and the music hums. The in-arena announcer riles up the crowd while everyone finds their seats just as the team flies out of the locker room and onto the ice, red jerseys zooming past our seats.

I don’t dare look for him. I keep my eyes down on my lap.

It’s been so long.

He’s got a game to play. His focus will be on the ice. It’s not like he’s going to come out here and scan the crowd. Plus, my hair is so much shorter than it used to be, so even if he did take the time to look, there’s no chance he’d recognize me.

He’ll never know I’m here.

This is fine.

“Thank you for inviting me,” I say to Brian. “Sorry if I’m a little off. It’s been a while since I’ve dated.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s been a while for me too.” His smile is kind before he nods towards the ice. “So, hockey is made up of three periods. Offense is split into four lines. You’ll see them swap out by the bench and it’ll look like chaos.”

He continues on about the rules and I turn to face him, nodding along as if I don’t already know these things from attending a certain player’s games too many times to count.

Brian’s phone dings in his pocket, but he ignores it and resumes. “Zanders is their captain now. Number eleven. He’s a defenseman. Cocky son of a bitch, but insanely good. His blue-line mate is DeLuca. He’s—”

“Water!” someone yells right next to my ear. “Ice-cold water!”

The concessions guy continues to shout, and it thankfully drowns out everything Brian was saying about the player I know more about than any random stat line he could spit out.

After the anthem and customary puck drop, the game starts, but I barely watch. I keep my attention on my lap, on the crowd, on literally anything other than the ice in front of me.

The first period drags on for too long. I hear his name cheered too many times. I know he’s on this end of the rink, and all I can do is pray for the second period, so he’ll finally switch sides.

Would it be rude if I cut out after two periods? Maybe I can convince Brian that I’m not feeling well, and we should reschedule.

His phone pings again, but he ignores it.

“I can’t believe you haven’t watched a second of this!” he shouts from next to me.

“I’m not feeling great.”

That’s it. Lay the groundwork.

He doesn’t hear me, just like he doesn’t hear his phone that won’t stop going off with back-to-back text messages.

The Raptors are on defense, causing the crowd around me to ramp up their cheers.

It’s loud, but I still hear Brian’s phone go off again.

“Your phone is blowing up right now.” I raise my voice this time so he can hear me.

He keeps his eyes on the game, the action happening right in front of us, as he pulls out his phone to mute it, but that’s when I see the screen. There are endless texts from the same person. I don’t know what they say, but whoever it is, their contact name is only an emoji. The diamond ring emoji.

Brian glances down at the screen and immediately tries to hide the phone away in his pocket, but it’s too late.

I saw it.

“I thought you said you haven’t dated in a while.” My tone is accusatory.

He won’t look at me. “I haven’t.”

“Are you married?”

He does that annoying thing again where he doesn’t answer me, and now I realize that shy, nervous energy from earlier was because he was out here going on a date with someone who isn’t his wife.

My disbelieving laugh is a bit manic, but that’s how I feel right now. “I’m leaving.”

I stand to do so, but the game is still in play, so I quickly sit back down and wait for a whistle.

“Hallie, it’s not what you’re thinking. We’re in an open relationship. It’s just that it’s newly opened, so I haven’t dated in a while.”

“And you don’t think you should’ve told me that you’re married ? Come on. Get so fucked right now.”

An impossibly loud bang rattles the glass in front of me, stealing my attention to find a player from Tampa pinned against the boards after an excruciatingly painful hit. The player slumps to the ice, giving me a perfect view of the man who delivered the blow, only to find him .

Rio DeLuca.

Number thirty-eight glares down at his opponent as the crowd bangs their fists against the barrier, shaking the glass to celebrate the big hit.

He moves to skate away, but as he shifts his weight on his blades, his eyes flit upward.

To me.

He freezes in place, and I watch as both recognition and disbelief dawn on him. His lips slightly part, those green eyes tracking every inch of my face, and I try to look away, but I can’t. I’m too locked in, too focused on the man in front of me who is hardly recognizable from the boy I once knew.

He’s so close. Only a piece of plexiglass separates us, and I want to run away. He blinks quickly, dark brows cinching in confusion before his attention ticks to the guy I’m next to for hardly a breath before refocusing on me. Cataloging me. Studying me.

The arena has emptied out.

It’s completely silent, only him and me.

I remember the first time I ever saw him. He was playing hockey that day too, but so much has changed between then and now.

Now, he’s the one person I’ve actively worked to avoid since moving here. The one person who almost kept me from taking the internship in the first place, simply because I knew he lived in this city.

My heart flutters like it used to before I remember everything that happened.

Because I may have loved Rio DeLuca once, but I don’t anymore.