13. Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Thirteen
Sarah
The next morning I wake up tangled in Kevin's throw blanket with Ranger's cold nose pressed against my hand.
??Sunshine
Made it to Utah. Sleep well?
Crashed on the couch. It’s stupidly comfortable. Might never leave
Three dots appear immediately.
??Sunshine
Good.
Just that. Good.
Like me being here — in his space, wearing his jersey, sleeping on his couch — is exactly what he wants.
I wish I could be honest enough to tell him it’s what I want.
But if I do that and then it all goes to hell — like it will, because that’s what happens when you’re a Townsend — then I’ll never get to crash on his couch again, never get to see Ranger, never be able to watch a hockey game or pass his exit on my way downtown again.
And I’m not risking that.
I don’t have to have it all. I just need to have my best friend. And his dog.
The day passes in the usual way: rescue work, paperwork, three adoption applications to process, and approximately seven hundred emails about Ranger's upcoming brand deal.
Kevin texts updates from Utah. A girl on Lindy’s team who’s covering social media on this trip made them all try dirty soda for a reel. Team's loose at practice. Hotel room has a weird smell.
I send pictures of Ranger being dramatic about his empty food bowl even though he was fed twenty minutes ago.
Normal. Easy.
Except it's not, because I'm still thinking about wearing his jersey and I haven't been back to my apartment in two days and this is starting to feel less like dog-sitting and more like something I'm scared to name.
Around three, my phone buzzes with a group text.
??Boy Aquarium Maintenance Crew ??
Paige
Girls night tonight. My place. 7pm. Bridgerton marathon. Bring nothing except yourselves.
Lindy
I'm in! You didn't travel?
Paige
I was SUPPOSED to. But I spent yesterday morning puking and there's no way I'm doing that on a plane. Sent Taylor to cover instead.
Who's Taylor?
Paige
New junior PR coordinator. Total newbie but she's eager. The rest of my team is taking bets on whether she'll survive Liam's chirping.
Lindy
My money's on Liam making her cry by the time they land in Dallas.
Paige
Be nice. She's sweet.
Anyway—Sarah? Please say yes. I need girl time before I murder my husband.
What did Brett do?
Paige
He keeps HOVERING. Like I'm going to break.
It's sweet but also I might actually kill him.
Lindy
Pregnancy hormones are very real.
Paige
SO REAL. Quinn's going to FaceTime in. Please come, Sarah?
An evening with the girls sounds exactly like what I need.
I'll be there.
Paige
Perfect. Ranger can come too if you want. I have a fenced yard.
He can stay at Kevin's. He'll just sleep anyway.
Paige
Look at you. Casually mentioning staying at Kevin's place.
Lindy
??
I'm dog-sitting!
Paige
Sure you are.
Lindy
Whatever helps you sleep at night. Literally. In Sunshine’s condo.
Paige
In Sunshine’s bed, probably.
Lindy
??
I stare at my phone.
They know. Of course they know.
You're all terrible.
Paige
We're the BEST. See you at seven!
I show up at Paige and Brett's house right after seven with zero expectations beyond Bridgerton and avoiding a discussion about my sleeping arrangements.
Their place is gorgeous — all windows and natural light, views of the Hill Country rolling out toward the horizon. It's lived in though. Comfortable. Brett's hockey gear and a bag from the prep school he coaches at is dumped by the door. Paige's work stuff is scattered across the dining table.
"Sarah!" Paige opens the door in leggings and an oversized Stampede hoodie that's definitely Brett's. "Come in! Lindy's already claimed the good spot on the couch."
I follow her inside.
The smell hits me immediately. Something with garlic, maybe chicken. Normally I love Italian food, but my stomach isn’t feeling it tonight.
I breathe through my mouth and focus on not being weird.
How on earth is this not bothering Paige’s pregnant stomach?
Lindy's already snuggled in the corner of the cushions, flipping through Netflix. The coffee table is loaded with ginger ale in actual champagne flutes, crackers arranged on a nice serving plate, and what appears to be every type of bland carb known to humanity.
"Fancy," I say, picking up a crystal flute. The bubbles help settle my stomach.
"We're classy like that," Lindy says without looking up from the TV as I settle into an oversized chair with an ottoman for my feet. "Paige can't handle anything else right now, so we're all suffering in solidarity."
"I appreciate the sacrifice," Paige says, settling onto the opposite end of the couch from Lindy, with approximately four throw pillows surrounding her. "Brett made me eat plain toast for breakfast and I almost filed for divorce on irreconcilable toast differences."
"Speaking of Brett—" Lindy starts, but Paige cuts her off.
"If you're about to say he's being sweet, I will throw this pillow at your head."
"I was going to say he texted me asking if you need anything."
"See? Hov. Er. Ing."
As if summoned by being discussed, Brett appears from the kitchen with more crackers.
"You said you wanted crackers."
"I did want crackers. Past tense. Now I want you to stop hovering."
"I'm not hovering. I'm providing requested crackers."
"You're hovering with crackers."
Brett looks at us helplessly. "Am I hovering?"
"Yes," all three of us say in unison.
He holds up his hands. "Okay. Message received. I'm going to Overtime to watch the Dallas game with my beer league guys. You have my number. Call if you need anything. Paige, please eat something besides crackers." He kisses her forehead. "Sarah, Lindy… She's all yours. Good luck."
He escapes before Paige can throw a pillow.
"He's adorable," Lindy observes once he's gone.
"He's driving me absolutely insane." But Paige is smiling. "Okay. Bridgerton. Duke of Hastings. Let's do this."
She starts the episode.
For a while it's girls’ night perfection. We watch. We sigh at period costumes and historically inaccurate romance. Paige falls asleep during a ball scene.
"She's exhausted," Lindy whispers. "This pregnancy is hitting her hard."
"She seems happy though."
"She is. She panics periodically at work, but overall, yeah she’s completely over the moon." Lindy glances at sleeping Paige. "They both are."
About halfway through episode two, Paige's phone buzzes on the coffee table.
She wakes up, fumbles for it. "Quinn!" She answers on FaceTime, propping the phone against the ginger ale bottle. "You made it!"
Quinn's face appears — workout clothes, hotel room somewhere generic.
"Made it. Sorry I'm late. Had to prep some stuff for tomorrow's game. What did I miss?"
"Just Daphne being oblivious," Paige says. "We're only on episode two."
"Perfect timing." Quinn waves at the screen. "Hey Sarah, hey Lindy."
"Hey Quinn," we chorus.
"How's the road trip?" Paige asks.
"Long. Boring. The usual." Quinn's pulling her hair into a ponytail. "Utah tomorrow should be interesting though. They're scrappy this year."
"How are the guys?" Lindy asks.
"Good. Liam's already driving the new PR girl crazy. You told me it was going to happen." Quinn grins. "Aiden's threatening to ask Coach to scratch him if he makes Taylor quit."
"How's Kevin?"
The question is out of my mouth before I can stop it.
Everyone looks at me.
Shit.
"I mean — his shoulder. Is it holding up?"
"Smooth," Lindy mutters into her ginger ale.
Quinn's grinning through the screen. "His shoulder's fine. He's... Distracted. The guys are giving him hell about it."
My stomach drops. "About what?"
"Everything. But mostly about being in his contract year." Quinn says it casually, like it's not a bomb she just dropped.
"Contract year?"
"Last year of his contract," Lindy explains, and I can hear the careful tone in her voice. This sounds important. "Means he can test free agency after this season. Sign with anyone who wants him."
"And so many teams are going to want him," Paige adds, sitting up straighter now. Awake. "He's one of the best defensive players in the league. He'll be an unrestricted free agent — teams can sign him outright when free agency opens."
Everything in my chest locks up. Heart, blood, breath. All of it. "Has Austin offered him an extension?"
"Not yet." Paige's watching me too closely. "Brett says the front office is dragging their feet. They think because Kevin loves Austin, he'll take less money to stay."
"Will he?" The question comes out smaller than I intend.
Quinn shrugs on screen. "That's the thing. Nobody knows. He won't talk about it. Aiden's trying to get him to open up, but Kevin's being Kevin about it."
"What does that mean?"
"Means he's probably type-A analyzing everything and not telling anyone what he actually wants," Lindy says. "Classic Kevin."
My stomach churns. This is worse than the wing smell in my apartment. "So, he could leave Austin? Go somewhere else?"
"Realistically?" Paige's voice is gentle. "Yeah. The hockey media's already speculating. Montreal has the cap space. Boston needs a top-pairing defenseman. Half the league's going to be in the mix when free agency opens July first."
The room tilts slightly.
Kevin could leave Austin.
Could be gone in just months.
Everything we've been carefully not talking about suddenly has an expiration date I didn't know existed.
"Sarah?" Lindy's watching me. "You okay?"
"Fine." I grab a cracker I have no interest in actually eating. "Just thinking about the rescue. If Kevin leaves, Ranger goes with him. The brand deal—"
"Would transfer," Paige cuts in smoothly. "That's built into the contract. Ranger's deal isn't Austin-specific."
"Oh. Good."
I'm such a terrible liar.
"But you're right to be concerned," Quinn says from the screen, and there's something knowing in her voice. "Kevin leaving would affect a lot of things. A lot of people."
The way she says it makes it clear she's not just talking about Ranger or the rescue.
"So, he hasn't said anything? About what he wants?"
I'm trying so hard to sound casual.
And I’m 100 percent failing spectacularly.