Chapter 27
Crosby
Miller and Cherry live in a beautiful neighborhood. Wide, manicured streets lined with mature trees, every lawn trimmed to the same height, stone mailboxes and black iron fencing. Houses set back far enough to feel private but close enough that you know every neighbor is paying attention.
Cherry’s influence is obvious the moment we turn onto their street.
Miller’s place is large and modern, all severe lines and glass, two stories of pale stone and dark wood with so much uplighting, the house glows unnaturally.
The entire front is decked out in Halloween decorations—pumpkins, witches, massive spiders crawling up the sides of the house.
Cars already line both sides of the street—luxury SUVs, sports cars, a few rideshares dropping off guests in costume.
Birdie exits my truck on the passenger side and I meet her at the front.
“Ready to do this, Neo?” she asks.
I take in her Catwoman suit, which hugs her like a second skin, shiny black latex with haphazard stitching to make it look pieced together by an amateur.
She doesn’t have the full hood but rather a headband with cat ears and a black mask.
I’m not loving the thigh-high black boots with stiletto heels, which take her costume from fun to super sexy—a look that no brother wants on his sister.
“Ready for this?” I glance toward the house. “Not even a little.”
Evan and Juno arrived earlier to do a walk-through for filming—camera placement, lighting and flow. She had texted me that Cherry was beyond excited to have them there and was hounding her to know if she’d be interviewed.
Birdie and I head up the front walk together. I have to remember I have nothing to hide, but once people see the costumes, it will be obvious Juno and I dressed as a couple. Now, whether people will conclude we’re romantically involved or maybe did this as a fun friends thing remains to be seen.
Cherry and Miller are posted at the door like they’re hosting a red-carpet event.
Miller looks as I would expect in his Flynn Rider vest, white shirt, and boots.
He even has the smolder. He’s on theme, understated, and clearly dragged along for the ride.
Cherry, on the other hand, has taken Rapunzel and turned her into a thesis on sex appeal.
The purple dress is corseted tight enough to lift and frame her breasts. The plunging neckline exposes cleavage for days and her skirt is slit high on both legs. She’s wearing a blond wig with a long braid hanging down the back and she looks like a Disney princess who took a detour to Vegas.
Cherry’s eyes land on me as we walk up the steps and her smile widens. “Well,” she says, dragging her gaze over my long black coat and sunglasses. “Neo from The Matrix. Very cool.”
I nod at Miller, then look back to Cherry, whose brow is now furrowing deep until it clicks. She glances back through the entryway into the belly of her home and posits, “That’s weird.” I already know what’s coming. “Juno’s Trinity,” she says slowly. “What are the chances?”
“Not a coincidence,” I say evenly. “We planned that.”
Her mouth drops open and there’s a beat of silence—long enough to register surprise and finally recalculation. Her eyebrows start to lift as understanding creeps in—
And then Birdie steps forward.
“Cherry,” she says pleasantly. “It’s nice to see you again. Congratulations on the marriage. Your house is very… on brand.”
Cherry snaps her attention to Birdie, eyes narrowing a touch before she pastes the smile back on. “Birdie. Wow.” Her gaze flicks down, up. “That Catwoman suit doesn’t leave much room to breathe, but you did a good job getting into it.”
Birdie tilts her head, considering her. She’s never liked Cherry and never tried to hide that fact from her. She smiles sweetly. “Thanks,” she says. “And good job on making Rapunzel look slutty.”
The air goes still and Cherry’s smile freezes, then cracks. “Excuse me?”
Miller’s arm comes around her waist immediately, subtle but firm. “Hey,” he murmurs. “Party. Remember?”
“Let’s go,” I drawl, catching Birdie by the elbow and steering her inside before Cherry can regroup.
I offer Miller a semi-apologetic smile as we pass and once we’re out of earshot, I whisper to my sister, “Please behave.”
Birdie snickers. “Where was the lie in what I said? Besides… I was polite.”
“You were a bitch,” I reply, but I can’t help smirking as I remember the stricken look on Cherry’s face.
She grins. “You loved it and you know it.”
The house is exactly what you’d expect—open concept, high ceilings, polished concrete floors softened by expensive rugs.
A staircase with a glass railing curves up along one wall.
The living room has been cleared for mingling, furniture pushed back, a bar set up along the kitchen island with catered trays arranged with great precision.
Costumes everywhere and the party is in full swing, laughter abounding.
Arch towers near the bar as Thor, hammer resting against his shoulder. He’s talking to someone dressed as Deadpool but no clue who that is because of the mask. Rome Davies is a pirate—convincing, and Boss went classic horror as Jason Vorhees, his hockey murder mask propped on top of his head.
A few players chose the lazy route with no costume, but most everyone went all out.
And then I see her.
Juno stands near the far end of the room, black leather coat hugging her frame, boots solid and purposeful. Trinity, unmistakably. She even sleeked her hair back into a tight bun at the nape of her neck, but her sunglasses are pushed up on top of her head as she laughs at whatever Evan just said.
My chest tightens, pulling inward to center around a hearth of warmth I feel for this woman.
I cross the room, aware of the way heads turn, the way a few conversations trail off as the visual clicks into place.
Neo and Trinity.
Together.
Juno looks up and her face softens immediately. “There you are,” she says.
“Here I am.” I cup her jaw and kiss her softly on the lips, eating up her quick, surprised inhale. We had not discussed how we’d behave tonight, but I’ve staked my position now.
I feel the awareness in the room, feel the eyes on us. When I pull back, her smile is steady, certain. She’s not afraid.
Somewhere behind us, someone whistles, and I slip my arm around her waist.
“And we’re off,” she murmurs.
?
The party swells as the night settles in. Admittedly, Cherry has put on an excellent shindig, and everyone is having a blast. The music pulses from the DJ, laughter rises and falls in pockets, and the living room has been converted into a dance floor.
I lose track of time somewhere between refilling a drink and fielding a dozen variations of Nice costume, man. Juno and Evan have been mostly working, so I’ve been on my own, randomly drifting among groups. Birdie is currently in a dance-off with Arch.
And that’s when Miller finds me. “Hey,” he says, voice tight. “Can we talk?”
There’s a bite to his tone that sets my teeth on edge—not aggressive but coiled. I glance toward Juno, who’s talking to Dutton Black, one of our third-line wingers, while Evan films.
“Sure,” I reply on a long exhale.
He leads me down a short hallway toward the back of the house, past a guest bath and a coat closet, stopping before the sliding doors that open onto the patio. The music dulls here, replaced by the muted sound of voices through glass.
Miller turns to face me. “I need you to back off,” he says.
I blink. Once. “Back off… what?”
“My wife.”
The words are biting, both heavy and accusatory, and my anger surges without restraint.
“I don’t know what you think you’re talking about,” I say slowly, forcing my voice to stay calm, “but I haven’t crossed a single line with Cherry.”
His jaw tightens. “That’s not what she says.”
I stare at him blankly, shocked beyond speech for a moment. “I broke things off with her clean over three years ago. That was my choice and not up for interpretation.”
“And now you can’t stand to see her with me,” he snaps.
That does it. “Where is this coming from?” I ask, my voice hard despite my effort to keep it level. “Because it’s not coming from reality.”
“She told me you’ve been weird,” he says. “Cold and distant one moment, acting friendly the next. She thinks you’re jealous of me.”
I laugh once, short and incredulous. “I’ve barely spoken to her and when I have, it’s because she approaches me.”
“She said you told her it was strange seeing her married,” Miller presses. “That it took some getting used to and that you want her back.”
I freeze. “That’s a fucking lie.”
Miller jolts, eyebrows shooting straight up in shock over my vehemence, but then smoothing out. “I think I’ll believe my wife.”
I step closer, anger flaring now, contained but hot. “Let me be crystal clear. I am not interested in Cherry, and I sure as hell am not jealous of your marriage.”
He bristles. “You expect me to ignore what my wife tells me?”
“I expect you to recognize crazy when it’s staring you in the face,” I say flatly. “This—this right here—is exactly why I dumped her. And I suggest you figure out how to manage it, because we cannot have this bleeding into the locker room.”
His eyes flash. “I’ll choose to believe my wife.”
“That’s your call,” I say. “But don’t project her shit onto me.”
For a moment, I think he might say more. Instead, he steps back, jaw clenched. “Stay out of our lives,” he says.
I don’t respond. I watch him walk away and let out a long breath of frustration when he’s gone.
My hands curl into fists at my sides. What a fucking nightmare.
I could cheerfully strangle Cherry for doing this. She has now gone and put the entire team at risk because one fracture like that can poison a room fast.
“Hey.” Juno’s voice cuts through the spiral, and I turn to find her out on the deck with me, concern already written across her face. “What’s wrong? I saw you and Miller out here talking but didn’t want to intrude.”
I hesitate for half a second and consider brushing it off. But that’s not how this works.
Not with Juno.
“Miller cornered me,” I say, throwing a hand toward the house where he’s probably holding on to Cherry’s skirts. “Accused me of still being interested in Cherry.”
Her brows knit together instantly. “Why would he do that? It’s ridiculous.”
“Apparently, she told him something I said—twisted it into another thing entirely. He thinks I can’t stand seeing her married.”
Juno exhales. “That’s idiotic.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “But it’s also a problem. She’s lying, and he believes her.”
Her gaze flicks past me, toward the room, already tracking dynamics. “Do you think you should talk to Coach Monahan? Or Oliver Kemp?”
“Not yet,” I say. “I told Miller exactly where I stand and that Cherry’s lying. Maybe that’ll sink in, but if it escalates, I’ll talk to Coach. I’m not letting this screw with the team.”
She nods, thoughtful. Not alarmed—but alert. “I think that’s a good plan.”
I scrub a hand over my jaw. “I hate that this is even a thing.”
She reaches for me then, fingers slipping into mine. “It’ll settle down,” she says. “You spoke your truth and that’s all you can do.”
I nod, though I’m not entirely convinced.
We step back into the party, her hand still in mine, but I’m rattled. I have the strangest sense that wheels have been set in motion, and I’m powerless to stop it.