Page 4

Rio

Was that her?

It had to be her. I’d recognize that face anywhere. Those hazel eyes. That wavy hair, which is so much shorter than it used to be. It may have been six years since I last saw her, but I’d never forget.

I’ve thought about Hallie Hart more times over the last six years than I’ll ever admit, and yeah, there’s been a few instances where I let myself believe I saw her. Where I mistook someone else for her, as if my imagination was playing tricks on me.

Tonight though, I’m positive that was her.

At least, I was positive in the moment, but then Zee yelled my name loud enough that it finally broke me out of my daze and forced my focus back into the game. I stayed on the ice for the rest of my shift, but as soon as I was back on the bench, my attention went to find her again... only for that seat to be empty and to remain that way for the rest of the game.

So, I’m a bit less confident that I wasn’t hallucinating her.

Pulling into my driveway at home, I cut the engine and sit. It’s late, close to midnight at this point, and my body is exhausted and ready for bed thanks to the overtime win. But I don’t get out of the car. I sit and replay every detail of seeing her.

God, she looked good. She always looked good, though, so that wasn’t much of a surprise.

I still remember the first time I ever saw Hallie Hart, with that unbothered smile on her face, completely confident in who she was. But she wasn’t wearing that smile tonight.

Fuck, was that her? The further I get from that fleeting moment, the more I second-guess myself.

I just need to go inside and sleep it off, get my mind off whoever it is I saw tonight. But before I can get myself out of my car, my attention is drawn out the passenger window to watch as someone pulls into Wren’s driveway.

And once again, I’m asking myself if I’m hallucinating.

A dark green Nissan Altima parks in front of my neighbor’s house. It’s the exact same car that parked in front of my neighbor’s house the day the Harts moved next door to my family home in Boston. Same make. Same model. Same year.

A woman gets out and rounds the car to lift a box out of the trunk.

Goddamn. What is wrong with me? I’m having the worst case of déjà vu right now, picturing Mrs. Hart carrying the first moving box into their new house. The one that had all the dishes that Luke had to unpack. It feels like yesterday and a lifetime ago all at the same time. But it’s also happening right now.

This time, there’s no Mr. Hart following behind. There’s no blond boy with a lacrosse stick or a hazel-eyed girl with her headphones covering her ears, sitting in the back seat.

I open my car door, not tearing my focus away from her because that’s not Mrs. Hart. Yes, her hair is shorter now, but besides that, she’s the spitting image of her mom.

And then I hear myself say a name I haven’t spoken in six years. Because this time, I know for sure I’m not hallucinating.

“Hallie?”

Box in hand, she whips her head in my direction, eyes going wide as she assesses me, her gaze halting me in place. When I was a teenager, I remember feeling like I’d kill to have her eyes on me, but I don’t let myself want that anymore.

Slowly, I cross the lawn in her direction, her gravitational pull on me as strong as it’s always been.

“Rio.” She swallows. “Hi.”

Oh, it’s her all right because I’ll never forget the way my heart used to skip a beat when she’d say my name. It takes everything in me to keep my arms at my side instead of wrapping them around her shoulders and pulling her into my chest like I used to, just to make sure she’s real.

Chocolate hair, with shimmers of lighter brown painted throughout, cuts bluntly below her chin. She used to keep it long, but it suits her this way. Now, it shows off that stunning face of hers. Soft freckles dot along the bridge of her nose. Her eyes that I remember being bright and kind now watch me with unease. Her mouth that used to beam with a smile no matter the situation is now turned down in the opposite direction.

Regardless, she’s somehow even more beautiful than the last time I saw her, and that pisses me off. Because first off, how is that possible? And secondly, she fucked me over. Shouldn’t karma come into play here and give me a win?

She sets the box on Wren’s front step before facing me again, arms crossed at her middle as if she were using them as a shield against me.

But she’s not the one who needs a shield. I am. It may have been six years ago, but I haven’t forgotten what happened.

“What are you doing here?” There are no pleasantries, no softness in my tone.

Her brows furrow in confusion as if she’s asking herself what I’m doing here.

I throw my thumb over my shoulder, pointing at my house. “I live here, Hallie. So again, what are you doing here?”

Her eyes go impossibly wide as she takes a step back. “But I live here.”

“No, you don’t? Wren doesn’t—”

Her new roommate.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

I take a step closer, panic taking over. “Did you know I live next door? Is that why you’re here?”

She scoffs, arms unfolding, hands anchoring at her hips. “Are you joking? I’ve tried to avoid you since I moved to Chicago. You think I’d purposefully move next door? To what? Be close to you? Relive our childhood? No thanks, Rio. I’m good off that.”

There she is. I remember that ferocity.

Since I moved to Chicago.

“ When did you move to Chicago?” I say it as if I have every right to know the answer, and a part of me feels like I do. She knew I lived here. She should’ve warned me.

Her chin tilts up defiantly. “April.”

She’s been here for six months?

“And you didn’t think you should tell me?”

“And say what?” She exhales a laugh. “‘Hey, remember me? That girl you hate. Yeah, I moved to Chicago! Let’s get drinks!’ It’s been six years, Rio. You don’t own this city, and I don’t owe you a phone call. And besides, even if I did, I lost your number years ago.”

That feels like a fucking punch to the gut and hurts more than I want to admit. No, we haven’t spoken since I left Boston, but there were a few times in my first year here that I may have tried to call Hallie, but her line was disconnected.

I hadn’t allowed myself to try again since.

Tension lingers between us, neither of us knowing what to say.

“You can’t live here,” is what I finally decide on.

“I don’t have much of a choice.”

“The city is fucking huge. There are other options rather than the house ten feet away from mine, Hallie.”

Her lips purse in anger, her jaw setting in place. Oh, she’s fuming now.

“I don’t have other options. Not all of us get to make millions of dollars a year playing a game, Rio. Some of us are just trying to survive paycheck to paycheck. So yes, I will be living next door and trust me, it’s not because I want to be anywhere close to you. I’ll be here until May when Wren’s brother sells the house, and if that’s going to be an issue for you, you can go ahead and take some of those millions of dollars you have and buy yourself a new place to live.”

She wants me to buy a new place? That’s my plan. That’s exactly why I hired—

Wait.

No, she can’t be.

Everything clicks. The roommate. The designer. Hallie always wanted to be an interior designer. She was going to school for it the last time we saw one another.

“Are you the one who renovated Wren’s house?” I ask, accusatorily.

Her face balls in confusion and I watch as the realization dawns on her the same way it did me. Head falling back, exposing that pretty throat, she squeezes her eyes closed. “And you’re the neighbor.”

Fuck.

“Well, that’s not going to work,” she decides.

“Yeah. No shit, that’s not going to work.”

She jolts back slightly, as if my words hurt her. We were always careful with each other until we weren’t. Hallie is a soft soul with a tough shell, and that exterior seems harder than it used to be.

Regardless of our history, I never wanted to see her hurting.

She hurt you.

“You know that wouldn’t work, Hal.”

“Don’t call me that.”

I hold my hands up in surrender. “Hallie. We both know it wouldn’t work for you to be at my house every day. I cannot hire you.”

A beat passes between us.

“I know.” Her tone is defeated.

The silence is thick again, every part of this interaction feeling fucking surreal. I never thought I’d be standing in front of her again.

She’s so goddamn beautiful. So hardheaded still. For a moment, I let myself remember how overwhelming it felt to be near her. She used to steal all my thoughts. She used to occupy my entire existence.

I almost forgot what that felt like.

I’ve spent six years subconsciously comparing every date to her. Comparing their laugh to hers. Their kindness to hers. Their confidence to hers. Their taste in music to hers.

I haven’t spoken Hallie’s name in six years, but she has been living rent free in my mind while I try to replicate what we had before everything went to shit.

I need to walk away. Go pack a bag and move in with Ryan and Indy until May.

“Let’s just stay out of each other’s way,” she says, breaking the silence. “You’ll hardly even know I’m here.”

“No chance of that happening,” I mutter under my breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

My eyes find hers, unspoken words passing between us. There’s too much history between me and the girl next door, and there’s something else that my friends don’t know.

That thing I’ve been looking for since I moved to Chicago? That connection? That one person some search their entire lives to find? I had already found her when I was twelve years old.

At least, I thought I had.

I know what I’m looking for because I had it once, and now the only girl I’ve ever loved is moving into the house next to mine.

Again.

I turn back, headed straight for my place, needing to put a fucking door, wall, anything between us. I’m halfway across my lawn when a visual of her at my game tonight pops into my mind. I didn’t miss that she was there with someone.

“The guy you were with tonight.” I slowly shift back to face her. “Who was he?”

The set in her jaw is evident even from here. “Not your job to worry about.”

Nodding, I turn back to my house, hands casually tucked in my pockets as I continue to walk. With my back to her, I make sure my words are loud enough for her to hear them.

“Lose him.”