Chapter 2 #2
I was trying not to rehearse what I’d say to her—trying not to overthink every possible version of hello—when a shout cracked through the hallway.
“Good gravy. Is that Reese Marlowe?”
Before I could react, I was scooped clean off the ground.
For a split second, my brain short-circuited. My feet weren’t where I’d left them. The concrete blurred. Someone’s arms wrapped around my waist. My breath caught in my throat, too stunned to do anything but cling reflexively to whomever had just bodily removed me from the earth.
A laugh—bright and unexpectedly familiar—broke through the confusion.
“Cat?” I gasped, my arms instinctively flying around her shoulders as she spun me once before planting me back on solid ground.
Catherine Pearson looked the same as she had in college—same bright eyes, same kinetic energy, same tendency to express joy using her whole body. Her hair was damp from the showers, dark curls clinging to her cheeks. She wore team-issued sweatpants and a hoodie that swallowed her smaller frame.
“I had no idea you were playing for Boston,” I said, trying to steady my pulse.
“Playing?” She snorted. “That’s debatable. I’m the backup goalie—the ‘break glass in case of emergency’ option. Except at my age, I’d probably be the one who breaks.”
I laughed, and for the first time all morning, the tension in my shoulders eased. Even after being unexpectedly airborne, seeing Cat grounded me. She was a memory from college that didn’t hurt.
“So what’s going on?” Cat continued with her infectious enthusiasm. “Are you working here? Visiting? Stalking me?”
“None of the above,” I said, still smiling. “Well, actually … the working one is mostly right.”
Before I could elaborate, a second familiar voice slid into the space between us.
“Reese Marlowe.”
An involuntary shiver tickled down my spine.
I turned.
Dani stood a few steps away. She’d changed out of her practice gear—hair damp, shoulders broader than I remembered beneath her team jacket, a duffle bag slung over one shoulder. Time had sharpened her features, chiseled away the baby fat of her cheeks.
The smirk on her lips was as cocky as I remembered, however, as if no time at all had passed since the last time we’d spoken.
“Dani Callahan,” I replied, forcing my tone to stay professional.
Her gaze swept over me, taking in every detail like she was cataloging the changes.
Heat crawled up the base of my throat, hyper-aware of what I was wearing—high-waisted dark jeans, a fitted forest-green sweater under my wool coat. It was a perfectly normal outfit until someone who used to know every inch of my body decided to look at me like a before-and-after photo.
I tugged at the lower hem of my sweater, suddenly self-conscious of the curves that had come with being in my mid-thirties—not anything dramatic, just different. Softer. Real.
I wondered what she saw. I wasn’t that girl from college anymore.
“What are you doing here?” she finally asked.
“I’m doing my job,” I said, lifting my chin. “I’m covering Boston’s professional women’s teams for the local news syndicate now.”
Her smirk widened, a flicker of something playful—and dangerous—sparking in her hazel eyes. “How convenient,” she drawled. “I just so happen to play for Boston’s professional women’s hockey team.”
“It’s only a coincidence,” I assured her. “I didn’t know you were back in Boston.”
“You know there’s no such thing as coincidences,” she said smoothly, tilting her head. “They’re merely an illusion or misinterpretation of the true causes behind events.”
I didn’t bother suppressing the roll of my eyes. “I’m glad you’re still finding a use for your philosophy degree.”
Cat looked between us with raised eyebrows, sensing the crackle but graciously keeping her mouth shut.
Dani grinned wider. “I always loved our banter. It’s like no time has passed.”
“Fifteen years.”
Her grin faltered for just a second, a flicker of something—regret, maybe—but it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced with the cocky nonchalance she wore like armor.
I crossed my arms, leveling Dani with a look I hoped conveyed just how much I wasn’t here to stroll down memory lane. “And while we’re clarifying things, let’s get this straight—I’m here to do a job, not relive the past.”
Dani stepped closer—a single, measured stride. It wasn’t enough to invade my space, but enough to make my breath catch.
Her gaze skimmed over me in a way that felt far too familiar. “You look good, Reese.”
My name on her lips felt like a hand closing around my heart. I bit the inside of my cheek, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a reaction.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” I said, injecting as much steel into my voice as I could muster.
Her smirk softened, just a little, into something almost genuine. She re-adjusted the duffle bag’s strap on her shoulder and turned toward the arena’s exit. “Welcome home, Reese,” she called out. “It’ll be fun seeing you around.”
I stood there, rooted to the spot, as she walked away.
Fun? It wasn’t the word I’d use. Complicated. Painful. Tempting?
I hated that a part of me was already looking forward to the next time she’d say my name.