5
Kennedy
The date with Josh hadn’t exactly gone the way I’d expected.
He was nice. Easy to talk to. Funny in a slightly awkward way that had me laughing more than once.
There’d been no immediate spark when we met, but I’d wanted there to be one, so I’d given it another shot, trying to convince myself I just needed more time.
But the whole night, I kept catching myself comparing him to Nash.
It wasn’t fair to anyone, least of all Josh.
I hadn’t seen him—or Nash—since, but we had texted a few times. The Empires had been on the road for a couple of away games. I hadn’t seen much of Sammy either, because my new job kept me more than busy.
As the advertising manager, I spent my days buried in campaign briefs, client meetings, and brainstorming sessions, trying to absorb names, brands, and deadlines all at once.
Half the time, I felt like I was running solely on caffeine and adrenaline.
The office was a constant blur of activity with everyone rushing to meet what appeared to be impossible deadlines.
It was more stressful than any place I’d worked before, and the pace at which New Yorkers moved was insane, but I loved it.
Most of my new colleagues were helpful; the few grumpy ones didn’t bother me.
Nash texted me on Thursday afternoon to see how the job was going and to ask if Sammy and I would come to the game on Friday, followed by dinner—this time as his guests.
Of course, we agreed. Not just because Sammy had a newfound love for hockey, which I appreciated—especially watching her yell at the TV like she knew what was happening, which she didn’t—but because it was Nash.
When I got home from work, the smell of onion and tomatoes hit me as soon as I opened the door. I was surprised to find Sammy awake and in the kitchen, stirring something on the stove. My stomach growled.
“That smells amazing,” I sighed, kicking off my shoes by the door.
Sammy poked her head out of the kitchen, a grin on her face. “It’ll be ready in about five minutes.”
“Perfect. I’m going to go change.”
I hurried into my bedroom and changed into a pair of leggings and a fluffy sweater, then pulled my hair into a messy ponytail before making my way back to the kitchen.
“Want a glass of wine?” Sammy asked, already holding one out to me like she knew the answer.
“Are we celebrating something?” I asked, scanning my mental calendar for any birthdays or important dates I might’ve missed. As far as I knew, there was nothing. But it wasn’t like Sammy to be cooking dinner—or to still be awake this late. Her days at the bakery started way before the sun rose.
She giggled, a gleam in her eyes as she nodded. “Kind of.”
“Okay,” I said, taking the glass from her and waiting for her to continue.
She raised her half-full glass and clinked it against mine. “Cheers.” She grinned before taking a long sip.
“Cheers,” I echoed, taking a sip as I studied her. Something was definitely up. “All right, what are we celebrating? What’s going on with you tonight?” I asked.
“I’m going on a date!” she practically squealed, bouncing on her toes with a smile so wide I could see every one of her perfect teeth.
“Oh, nice!” I chuckled at her excitement.
“I know!” She beamed.
“Wait, when? Not tonight, right?”
She made a face like I’d said something ridiculous. “No, I’m cooking, aren’t I?”
“Exactly why I asked,” I teased.
She rolled her eyes playfully. “No, tomorrow night. Keith is taking me out.”
“Oh.” He was the one she’d left O’Reilly’s with. I was about to remind her about the Empires game when she stopped me, holding her hand up in the air with full-on sass.
“I know there’s a game,” she said, “and I already told Keith I can’t go until it’s over. He was cool with that.”
“He sounds like a pretty good guy,” I admitted.
“I know.” She grinned. “I’m so excited. Hockey and a date, both in one day.”
I laughed at her and raised my wineglass. “Good for you, Sammy!”
“Thank you!” she said, beaming.
It suddenly dawned on me that if Sammy was going on a date with Keith after the game, I’d be left alone with Nash. My heart did a little flip at the thought.
Sammy drained the rest of her wine, grabbed the bottle, and poured herself another glass. “Oh, yeah, I almost forgot,” she said, giggling and pointing the bottle at me. “There’s a package for you on the table. It came by special delivery earlier.”
“Special delivery? For me?” I asked, surprised.
“Yeah.” She waved her hand in the direction of the table. The package was a large cardboard box addressed to me. There was no sender listed, but it had an Empires logo on the side.
“Is it something from work?” Sammy asked as she carried a tray of lasagna to the table.
“I don’t think so,” I said, shrugging. “I really have no idea what it is, but I’m about to find out.”
Sammy laughed. I tugged the box closer to me and tried to tear it open, but no matter how hard I pulled, the lid wouldn’t budge.
“I think you need a pair of scissors.”
I took the package over to the kitchen counter and grabbed a pair of scissors to cut open the tape.
Once the top was free, it was easy to pull the rest apart.
Inside, I saw flashes of red and white material.
My fingers brushed against the fabric before I fully pulled it out—and then it hit me.
They were Empires jerseys. Two of them, to be exact, with the number eleven and Reed stitched on the back.
“Whoa,” I muttered, holding them up.
Sammy peered over my shoulder, her eyes widening. “Wow,” she said. “Nash sent us game jerseys?”
“It looks that way,” I said, still staring at the jerseys.
“That is so freaking awesome.” Sammy took another sip of her wine, then locked her gaze on me with a glint of amusement. “But . . . what’s Josh gonna say about that?”
“Um . . .”
“Don’t you think he’d want you to wear his jersey?” Sammy continued, her tone full of teasing.
I shrugged. “Maybe, but—”
“I think he’s gonna be pissed.” Sammy snorted then let out a loud laugh.
“Seriously, Sam? I like him. He’s nice. I just don’t know.”
Sammy tilted her head, studying me. “You don’t know about Josh? Or you don’t know because of Nash?”
“Nash and I are friends,” I said automatically.
“Uh-huh.” She rolled her eyes. “Come on, Kenny. You’ve had more-than-friendly feelings for Nash since, like, forever. You’re just too stubborn—or scared—to admit it. And for the record?” She nudged me with her elbow. “I think there’s something there.”
I opened my mouth, but no words came out.
Sammy’s voice softened. “Look, I love you, and I’ll support whatever you want. If you want to see where things go with Josh, you should. He seems like a good guy. Just don’t choose him for the wrong reasons.”
I sighed, and she grinned like she’d won.
On paper, Josh was everything a girl should want—attractive, successful, sweet—and the attention was flattering. But he didn’t make my heart race the way Nash did.
“Let’s eat,” I said, reaching for the serving spoon. “This looks delicious.”
“Fine, fine,” Sammy replied, rolling her eyes. “I know what you’re doing, and I’m letting it go—for now.”
We ended up having a nice dinner, just the two of us.
Sammy told me about texting with Keith and how they’d even met for coffee one day since his office wasn’t far from her bakery.
I gave her a quick summary of my first weeks at the new job, sharing how much I liked it and how glad I was that I’d made the move.
After we finished eating, Sammy poured the last drops of the wine into my glass. She grabbed the empty bottle and was about to throw it in the garbage along with the box the jerseys had come in when she suddenly stopped and straightened up.
“Hey, there’s an envelope here too,” she said, handing it to me. I ripped it open, expecting a note from Nash, but it was so much more than that. Inside was a printout showing that Nash had gifted me two season tickets. A handwritten note at the bottom said they’d be forwarded to my email.
“Holy shit!” I gasped, completely stunned.
Was he serious? From the section and seat numbers, I could tell these were amazing seats. I couldn’t believe he’d done this.
“What? What is it?” Sammy asked, alarmed by my reaction. I held out the printout.
“Oh my God!” Her eyes went wide. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Yes,” I said, still trying to wrap my head around it.
“Man. He’s so awesome!” Sammy giggled, her excitement bubbling over. I couldn’t stop smiling. These tickets weren’t easy to come by, and they definitely weren’t cheap. Nash must’ve pulled some serious strings to make this happen.
“Listen, Kennedy,” Sammy said, her words slightly slurred from the wine, “if this is what Nash does when you’re ‘just friends,’ Josh should probably be nervous, because it looks like Nash just entered the competition.”
· · ·
Later, after we’d cleaned up, I sent Nash a quick text thanking him for the jerseys and the tickets—adding that he was absolutely crazy.
His response came almost immediately.
Nash
Can’t wait to see you wearing my name and number again.
My heart did a little flip.
Kennedy
I’ll be wearing it proudly.
Nash
Good. I’ll be on the lookout for my favorite supporter.
· · ·
The game was already underway by the time we arrived at the arena. An usher greeted us like we were VIPs, escorting us to our seats—which, to my surprise, were incredibly close to where we’d sat when Josh had invited us.
“These are your freaking seats!” Sammy hissed, grinning like she’d just won the lottery, which I guessed we kind of had.
“They’re our seats,” I corrected her, sitting down.
“Oh, get real, Kennedy,” she said with a dramatic eye roll. “They’re yours. I’m just glad you brought me along.”
I set my bag down on the floor in front of me and turned to face her, but she was already waving me off.
“It’s fine, Kenny, but you better keep bringing me now that I’m all into hockey and stuff.”