Chapter 25 Collette
COLLETTE
The girls and I are shopping for dresses for the Christmas party when Harper spots it. Jo is standing in front of the mirror in a red dress that looks incredible on her, and Harper leans in to fix her necklace and stops.
“Jo,” she says quietly. “Is that a hickey?”
My stomach drops for my sister. I look at her neck, and there it is. Purple and unmistakable.
“What? No. I … burned myself with my curling iron,” Jo stammers.
“On the side of your neck?” Harper raises an eyebrow. “That’s a very specific place to burn yourself.”
Issy looks over. “Let me see.” She examines it. “That’s definitely a hickey.”
“Oh shit,” I say, because what else can I say? I know exactly who put that there, and I’m watching my sister drown.
“You’re seeing someone!” Issy’s face lights up. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
Jo looks like she’s about to pass out. I need to get her out of this boutique and somewhere private before this escalates. Harper reads the room before I do and suggests that we go to her family’s hotel for drinks.
What follows is Jo confessing everything.
Emmett. London. The one-night stand. Not knowing who the other was until the welcome party.
Trying to stay away. Failing. All of it comes pouring out while I sit beside her, squeezing her hand, backing her up when she needs it, because that’s what sisters do.
Issy figured it out. Harper had her suspicions.
They promise to keep the secret until after the season.
And just like that, my sister is no longer carrying this alone.
Harper raises her glass. “To secrets and sisters.”
We all clink our glasses together.
“Now,” Harper says, leaning forward with a mischievous smile. “Tell us everything. And I mean everything. Is he as good as he looks like he’d be?”
“Harper!” Issy laughs.
“What? We’re sisters now, plus that man is gorgeous. All brooding grumpiness.”
“I’m very satisfied, and that is all you need to know,” Jo says.
The girls squeal.
“I bet you are.” Harper winks. “Hockey players have great stamina.”
“Ewwww. You are dating our brother, you know.” I grimace.
“Sorry. Yeah. Well, you should be proud of your brother, he earns a gold star every single time,” Harper states.
Jo and I pretend to hurl simultaneously, which has everyone in stitches. We dissolve into laughter, and it feels so good that for a moment I forget about everything.
Then Harper turns to me. “Speaking of hockey players,” she says, swirling her champagne with the casual precision of a woman who’s about to ask something that isn’t casual at all. “What’s going on with you and Fish?”
The laughter dies in my throat. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, you two used to be inseparable. Now I barely see you in the same room together.” She looks at Issy. “We’ve both noticed.” Issy nods.
“We’re both busy,” I say, reaching for my glass. “Just don’t have time to hang out like we used to.”
“You two went from being glued together to strangers practically overnight,” Harper states.
She can sense my bullshit, but I am not ready like Jo was to say anything.
“Did something happen?” Issy asks gently.
“No. Nothing happened. We’re just not as close as we were. That’s all.”
The table goes quiet, Harper is watching me the way she watches everyone, reading between the lines, cataloguing the micro-expressions, building a case. Issy looks like she wants to push but is holding back. Jo reaches under the table and squeezes my hand.
“Well,” Harper says after a long moment. “If you ever want to talk about it, we’re here.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” I smile. “Now, can we please go back to talking about anything else,” I say, hoping to change the subject.
We get back to the apartment and dump our shopping bags in the hallway. Jo kicks off her shoes and collapses onto the sofa. I head to the kitchen to pour us both a glass of wine because after today, we’ve earned it.
“Hey, can we chat for a moment?” Jo asks as I hand her a glass.
Oh no. Here it comes. She’s going to grill me about Fish.
“I just wanted to say thank you for today. For having my back. I don’t think I could have told them without you beside me.”
The relief is instant. “Of course. That’s what sisters are for.”
“I mean it, Lettie. You’ve known about Emmett for ages, and you’ve never judged me.” She takes a sip of wine and watches me. “Which is why I’m going to ask you something, and I want you to be honest with me.” Shit. The relief was premature. “What’s going on with you and Fish?”
“Jo …”
“I saw your face at that table when Harper asked, and you shut it down. Don’t tell me nothing happened.”
I stare at my wine, the bubbles rising to the surface, popping, disappearing.
I could lie. I could deflect. I could do what I did at the bar and smile and change the subject.
But this is Jo, my sister. The person who just ripped herself open in front of our friends because she trusted me to hold her together. She deserves more than my bullshit.
“We’ve kissed,” I say it to the wine glass, not to her.
Jo is quiet for a moment. “How many times?”
“A few times. It started a while back, and things started to blur between us. The friendship, the feelings, all of it was getting messy.”
She tucks her legs underneath her and turns to face me properly. “Who initiated it?”
I let out a sigh. “The first time I was drunk and apparently kissed him in a hotel corridor and didn’t remember any of it.” Jo’s eyebrows shoot up. “He told me about it later, and I asked him to show me what happened.”
“You asked him to reenact the kiss?”
I nod. “I hated that I had no memory of kissing him because I had been wondering what it was like.”
Jo is trying not to laugh. “And I’m guessing he demonstrated on you again.”
“Jo.” I shake my head.
“What? I told you about Emmett, and you grilled me. Fair is fair.”
I take a long sip of wine. “It was the best kiss of my life.” The confession comes out quiet and honest, and it surprises me how much it hurts to say out loud.
“He had his hand on my throat, my back was against my bedroom wall, our brothers were in the next room, and I didn’t care. I didn’t care about any of it.”
Jo gasps. “Lettie.”
“I know.”
She lets the silence sit for a moment. “So, what happened? Why did it stop?”
“Because I stopped it. Every time, I was the one who said we can’t. I was the one who drew the line. I was the one who gave the speech about our brothers and the team and my job and all the reasons why it’s impossible.”
“Sounds like the same speech I’ve given to Emmett,” Jo says quietly. “And Fish? How did he take it?”
I look at the ceiling because if I look at her, I’m going to cry. “He was good about it. He respected it every time. He never pushed. He just …” I swallow. “He backed off, exactly like I asked him to.”
“So was he just messing around? He has a reputation.”
“He’s not. That’s the problem.” I take another sip of wine.
“He’s not what I thought he was going to be.
The reputation, the bunnies, the playboy thing, it’s all a front.
Underneath that, he’s this stupidly kind, annoyingly thoughtful person who sends me coffee every morning, remembers restaurants I mention once in passing, teaches little kids how to skate, and falls asleep on the phone to my voice notes. ”
“Lettie …”
“And he showed up for me, Jo. When Felix got hurt, Fish was the one who found me crying in the corridor and just held me. No questions. No agenda. He just let me fall apart. Nobody else did that. Nobody else even noticed.”
Jo is watching me with those hazel eyes that are the same as mine, and right now, they’re full of something that looks a lot like heartbreak on my behalf.
“So, you have feelings for him.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I tell her.
“Lettie. Do you have feelings for him?” she pushes.
I take a long sip of wine. “Of course I do. He was my best friend. But it’s complicated, Jo.”
“Everything with these hockey players is complicated. That doesn’t answer my question.”
“I don’t know what I feel. All I know is that everything is a mess, and I miss him.
I miss my friend. I miss the texts, the voice notes, and the stupid conversations.
I miss the way he makes me laugh harder than anyone I’ve ever met.
” My voice cracks on the last word, and I press my lips together hard.
“Then why did you end it?” she asks gently.
“Because I have too much to lose. You know that better than anyone.”
“I do. But, Lettie, I’m sitting here right now having just told Harper and Issy about Emmett because at some point the fear of losing him became bigger than the fear of getting caught.” She pauses. “Have you hit that point?”
“He’s blocked me, Jo. He won’t even look at me. I think we’re past the point of anything.”
“You don’t know that. You guys were good friends once. Have you spoken to him?”
I shake my head. “I really think he’s done with me.” I drain my glass. “He’s moved on. The bunnies are back. Vegas was proof of that.”
“Were you jealous in Vegas?”
I give her a knowing look. “I wanted to rip every single one of them off him with my bare hands.” The honesty shocks me. I didn’t mean to say that out loud.
Jo stares at me for a second, and then a slow grin spreads across her face. “You know, a very wise woman once told me in Vegas that the solution to all of this is to just fuck him out of your system.”
I choke on my wine. “That is not what I said.”
“That is exactly what you said.” Jo chuckles.
“That was different. That was about you and Emmett.”
“How is it different? You just told me the lines were blurring. You have feelings you won’t admit. You can’t stop thinking about him. Sounds like the same diagnosis to me.” She grins. “Pent-up sexual tension. You both need to expel it then you’ll have a clear mind.”
“Are you seriously quoting me back to myself right now?”
“Word for word.” She sips her wine, looking incredibly pleased with herself.
“I hate you.” I smile.
“No, you don’t. Look, I’m not saying it’s the answer. But you told me to stop overthinking and just do something about it. Maybe take your own advice.”
“He’s blocked me. He won’t talk to me. How exactly am I supposed to …”
“The Christmas party,” Jo says simply. “Everyone will be there. You’ll be in the same room. The champagne will be flowing. And you’ll be wearing that silver dress.”
“Jo …”
“I’m just saying. One night. Get it out of your system. You may not even be a match, then you can both move on and never have to wonder again.”
I stare at my glass. The idea sits there, warm and dangerous, like a match struck in a room full of gasoline. Just once. Get it out of our systems. We may not even be a match, then we can move on and never have to wonder again.
That is the worst idea you’ve ever had. Or the best.