17. Thane #2
Before I could say any of that, Tannen rubbed a hand across the back of his neck again and let out a long breath. Then he shook his head. The movement felt deliberate. Like a man closing a door before somebody could walk through it.
"So."
I immediately recognized the look in his eyes.
The subject change. The tactical retreat. The man could spot an escape route in a conversation faster than he spotted an open teammate.
"So?" I asked.
A grin tugged at one corner of his mouth. "Tell me about him."
I chuckled. The transition was abrupt enough to give me whiplash. A minute ago, we'd been talking about grief, pressure, and the future. Now we were apparently discussing the mystery man currently occupying half the sports blogs in North America.
"You've seen the pictures."
"Pretty hard not to."
I groaned.
Tannen looked entirely too pleased with himself. "The internet seems very invested in your love life."
"The internet needs hobbies."
"The internet thinks it found one."
The strange thing was that I didn't mind talking about Kieran. In fact, I realized I wanted to. And the thought didn’t concern me at all.
Tannen must have noticed some kind of change in my expression because his smile widened. "Oh, this is serious."
"Why do you think it’s serious?"
"Thane."
"It's been a handful of days."
"That wasn't a denial."
I pointed at him. "You're annoying."
"I've been told that."
"Mostly by me."
"Your point?"
The idiot actually looked proud of that fact. For a moment, I considered ending the conversation right there out of principle. Then I thought about Kieran. And just like that, my smile grew wider.
"There it is."
"What?"
"That look."
I rolled my eyes. "There is no look."
"There absolutely is."
I hated that he was right. The worst part was that I wasn't even thinking about the things most people would assume.
Yes, Kieran was attractive. Painfully attractive.
Yes, I loved waking up with him curled against my side. I loved the way a simple kiss could derail an entire evening. I loved how naturally we'd fallen into sharing a bed whenever our schedules allowed it, and how difficult it had become to leave him this morning.
But there were other things. The way he tried to pretend he wasn't impressed by Christmas lights, even while staring out the window like a kid discovering magic for the first time. The way he'd somehow turned baking cookies into a disaster neither of us wanted to end.
I shook my head. "He's funny."
"Funny how?"
"Dry sense of humor. Smart. Gives me a hard time when I deserve it."
"So constantly."
"Exactly."
That earned a laugh.
“Mom practically adopted him within two minutes of meeting him.
Tannen barked out a laugh.
The memory warmed something inside me. Even after we'd had to cut the visit short, Kieran hadn't complained once.
He'd spent the entire afternoon talking to my parents, listening to their stories, and somehow making them laugh as though he'd known them for years. He’d fit in so seamlessly that realization hit me with surprising force.
I wasn't used to imagining people fitting into my life.
Hockey had a way of making everything temporary.
Cities changed. Teams changed. Schedules changed. Relationships changed.
By the time we'd left, my mother had already informed me twice that she expected to see him again.
Yet every time I thought about Kieran, my mind seemed determined to place him in the future… my future.
Tannen simply sat there watching me with the kind of expression that only existed between people who had known each other long enough to recognize the truth before it was spoken aloud.
Then one corner of his mouth lifted.
"What?"
The grin widened. "You're smiling."
I immediately scowled. "I'm not."
"You absolutely are."
"I'm sitting here having a conversation."
"You're sitting there looking like an idiot."
I pointed at him. "Pretty sure insulting your alternate captain is against team policy."
"Pretty sure there isn't a policy."
"There should be."
Tannen laughed, and for the first time all evening, some of the heaviness I'd seen in him eased slightly. Then his expression softened. "You really like him."
I could have denied it. I could have brushed it off with a joke or changed the subject the way he had earlier. But after everything that had happened over the last few days, pretending felt pointless.
A slow breath left my lungs. "Yeah," I admitted. "I really do."
Tannen nodded as though I'd confirmed something he'd already known. "You need to get out of Seattle."
The abrupt change in direction caught me off guard. "What?"
"You heard me."
I stared at him.
"I'm serious."
I leaned back against the stall and folded my arms. "We have three days off, not three months."
"Exactly." His gaze held mine. "You have three days before everybody starts asking questions again.”
When Tannen put it that way, the more appealing his suggestion became
"Take him somewhere people don't care who you are."
A humorless laugh escaped me. "I'm not sure a place like that exists."
"It does."
“Where?”
Tannen shrugged. "Winterhaven."
The name immediately made sense. His hometown sat tucked away in Vermont, far from NHL arenas and media scrums. Most people knew it existed only because somebody happened to be born there.
Then he added, "Or Juniper Hollow."
That made even more sense. Juniper Hollow wasn't just a dot on a map. It was familiar. Safe.
My parents had friends there. I'd spent time there growing up. If I wanted to disappear for a few days, it was probably the closest thing I had to a refuge.
Tannen stood and grabbed his bag. "You've got three days."
"You're awfully invested in this."
He slung the strap over one shoulder. "Maybe."
I narrowed my eyes.
"Or maybe I don't want to spend the next week listening to you complain about paparazzi while refusing to do anything about them."
"There he is."
"There who is?"
"My best friend."
That earned an eye roll.
As he headed toward the door, he paused long enough to glance back at me. "Take the guy somewhere he can actually enjoy Christmas with you."
Then he left.
The locker room fell quiet again. For several moments, I remained where I was, staring at the empty doorway.
Juniper Hollow.
The idea settled into my thoughts and refused to leave.
By the time I finally stood and reached for my bag, I had a feeling I knew exactly who I was going to call.