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ELEVEN

GAVIN

June

Peaches: Congrats on the win! Stanley Cup champs! It’s incredible. I’m sorry I missed you after the game.

Me: Thanks! Yeah, it got a little crazy around here. Are you still in Boston?

Peaches: No. Took the red-eye. I have to help Sienna prepare for her show in London.

Me: Sorry I missed you. Sienna has had nothing but good things to say about you.

Peaches: She’s great.

Peaches: I should be over you by now, right?

Fuck. I dig the heels of my hands into my eyes and groan. What the hell am I supposed to say to this girl? It’s been over a year since I last saw her. And still, she haunts my thoughts day in and day out. My team just won the Stanley Cup. I should be on cloud nine. My brothers’ first championship, the team’s first ever cup, should be the only thing taking up space in my mind. But a simple text from Millie, and she’s all I can think about.

I shouldn’t want her. Definitely shouldn’t still be thinking about her.

Every reason I have for staying away for the past year flits through my mind, one after another, on repeat, even as I grab my duffel bag and shove clothes and toiletries into it.

There are a million reasons to stay away.

A million reasons why we won’t work.

I open the safe and snag my passport.

Then I text my driver.

Millie Hall is the last girl I should want.

But I’m tired of being reasonable.

Fuck it.