Chapter 17 #2
“I think he missed you at Christmas.” Natalie hops onto the counter. “It was kinda cute seeing him all sad.”
My chest tightens remembering that night. Miles left for me. Ditched his friends on a holiday because I was alone. Didn’t even hesitate. Just… came home.
I probably shouldn’t read into it. He’s a good guy. That’s what good guys do, right? Show up.
Except, I can’t remember many who have for me. I’d convinced myself I was fine with it—that I had it handled, that I didn’t need to rely on someone, that I never wanted to.
I take a sip of wine so I don’t have to examine that feeling too closely.
“Recording is… It’s going. Today was good.”
Hannah beams. “That’s great!”
“I can’t imagine creating something from scratch like that,” Ada says. “I can barely help Owen with his fourth-grade art projects.”
“Back to Miles,” Natalie cuts in, “he practically sprinted out of dinner on Christmas. Helped with dishes and everything—what was up with that?”
“You’re so nosy,” Mia chides.
Everyone looks at me, waiting for an answer.
“I’m not sure, but it was nice. Not to be alone,” I stumble through, but they nod. And I’m grateful when they don’t push further.
The conversation shifts. Ada mentions Owen’s birthday, then frowns. “If I can even afford a party this year. My ex is being difficult.”
“Still?” Hannah asks, but Ada waves it off with a tight smile.
Natalie, reading the room, launches into a story about her last travel-nurse assignment. Then Hannah mentions cake tastings for the wedding. I react in the right places, laugh when I’m supposed to, but I feel half a step removed from everything. Like I’m watching through a glass pane.
When I glance at Mia, she’s studying me.
“Shoot, the game’s starting.” Hannah grabs her glass and heads for the living room.
I go to follow, but Mia intercepts me. “Can you help me grab more wine?”
I follow her into the large pantry off the kitchen.
The second we’re alone, Mia turns to me. “What happened today? And don’t you dare say nothing. I can tell something’s up with you.”
I set my glass down and lean against the shelves. “I think I’m in trouble.”
Her brow furrows. “What kind of trouble?”
“The I like my roommate kind.”
Her expression shifts, but it’s not surprised. “You have feelings for him.”
It’s not a question.
“I—” The lie dies on my tongue. “Yeah. I do.”
“I can’t say I didn’t see this coming.” She sips her wine. “So, what’s the problem exactly?”
“We’re roommates.” I draw out the word, like it explains everything.
“So? It’s clear he’s into you. The number of times he checked his phone on Christmas…” She shakes her head. “Plus, Dom says Miles has been glued to his phone on the road. Boy’s down bad.”
My heart does a little flip before reality comes crashing back in. “Ignoring the fact that I’m only here for five more months… we live together. We agreed to be friends. If it goes wrong, it’d be messy. And I’ll have to find a new place—”
“You could always stay with us,” Mia cuts in. “What are we, chopped liver?”
I blink. “You’re actually endorsing this? I gotta say, I didn’t see that coming. With your initial warning and all.”
She shrugs. “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been wrong. And how fast he left when you said you couldn’t make it on Christmas? It was kinda sweet.”
“You calling something sweet?” I huff. “Has this wine already gone to my head?”
“Quit deflecting. So you what—just realized this all today?”
“Not exactly. Boone inadvertently called it out.” I pause. “What if I’m not ready? What if focusing on him means I mess up the album? What if—”
“What if you’re allowed to have both?” Mia cuts in. “What if you don’t have to choose between your dreams and Miles?”
I’ve spent so long believing I had to pick one or the other. Music or relationships. Success or love. Having both was never an option. Or, at least, I never let it be one. Like Boone so helpfully pointed out this morning.
I’ve seen what happens when women try to have it all. Half the women I knew in Nashville were more talented than me, but they’re still singing in dive bars because love kept them rooted.
And I won’t be one of them.
Mia’s quiet. Then: “So what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know.” I huff a laugh, wishing I had the answer.
“Maybe you just… let yourself feel it out. See where it goes.”
“Yeah…”
“C’mon.” Mia tips her head toward the door. “The game’s about to start.”
I sling an arm over her shoulder, and she glares at me—affectionately—because, yes, that’s a thing she does. “You’ve really embraced the whole hockey-girlfriend thing. It’s a little weird.”
She laughs. “Be careful, I might be saying the same about you soon.”
We settle in the living room as the game starts. The guys are playing in Dallas, and even though I’ve never watched a hockey game in my life, I find myself paying attention. Trying to spot number 43 on the ice.
“Miles always looks so serious when he plays,” Natalie comments.
She’s right. He moves with purpose and precision, focus hardening his features.
I think about Miles and his perfectly aligned mugs. His post-game routine. The way he needs everything just so.
I’m smiling. Because, as weird as it is, it’s also kind of endearing.
Mia gives me a look, and Natalie barks a laugh.
The game continues, and I watch Miles the whole time, though I barely understand what’s happening on the ice. The girls help fill in the gaps in my hockey knowledge—which are still a lot.
The Saints win. The post-show plays in the background when Mia turns to me. “You should come to a game—”
“Yes!” Hannah cuts her off.
“They’re playing at home next Monday, and you’re off… That would be such a nice surprise.” Mia gives me a slightly evil grin.
Boone told me to stop playing it safe.
Well. Nothing says “feeling something” like watching a man who makes your chest ache slam into other men on ice, right?
“Yeah,” I hear myself say. “Let’s do it.”