Chapter Seventeen
DOWNWARD DOG
Tori
Winnie’s yoga classes should come with a warning label.
Something like: May cause excessive sweating, public embarrassment, and the uncomfortable realization that you have zero core strength despite telling yourself you’re “pretty fit.”
I’m rolling up my mat in the back of the studio, still catching my breath from what she cheerfully called a “gentle flow” but was actually forty-five minutes of controlled torture.
My thighs are shaking, my arms feel like noodles, and Winnie is up front looking like she just took a leisurely stroll through a meadow, not a single hair out of place in her perfect ponytail.
“You coming?” She bounces over, yoga mat tucked under one toned arm. “I’m dying for a smoothie.”
“I’m dying, period.”
“Drama queen.” She rolls her eyes. “You did great.”
“I fell out of tree pose. Twice.”
“Everyone falls out of tree pose.”
“You didn’t.”
She waves a hand dismissively. “I’ve been doing this for years. You’ve been doing it for—”
“Three classes.”
“Exactly. Baby steps.” She links her arm through mine and steers me toward the door. “Smoothies. My treat. You can tell me about the latest with your hockey player.”
My face heats immediately. “He’s not my hockey player.”
“Mm-hmm. Sure he’s not.”
The smoothie shop is two blocks from the studio, one of those places with too many options and a line out the door because everyone in Brooklyn apparently needs acai and spirulina at eleven on a Saturday morning.
We grab a spot in line, and I watch the familiar phenomenon unfold.
Three guys at the counter turn to look when we walk in. The one making smoothies nearly drops a blender cup. A dad with a stroller does an actual double-take, then immediately looks guilty about it.
Winnie doesn’t notice any of it. She’s studying the menu board with genuine concentration, like choosing between mango and passion fruit is a life-altering decision.
This is what it’s like being friends with Winnie Garrett.
She’s five-foot-six with the kind of effortless beauty that makes people walk into doors. Long, shiny hair, big blue eyes, a body that somehow manages to be both athletic and soft in all the right places.
And the thing is, she genuinely has no idea. I’ve known her for years, and I’ve never once seen her use her looks to get anything. She just... exists, being absurdly gorgeous while remaining completely oblivious to the trail of slack-jawed men she leaves in her wake.
“I think I want the green goddess,” she says, turning to me. “What about you?”
“Whatever has the most sugar and the least vegetables.”
“So the tropical sunrise.” She nods approvingly. “Good choice.”
“My reward for surviving yoga.” I grin.
The guy at the register gives us a thirty percent discount for no apparent reason. Winnie thanks him sweetly and doesn’t seem to register that he’s blushing so hard he might actually combust.
We grab a table by the window, and she settles across from me, tucking one leg underneath her in that effortlessly flexible way that makes me feel like a wooden board in comparison.
“Okay.” She props her chin on her hand. “Spill. What’s happening with Grumpy Hockey Dad?”
“Don’t call him that.”
“Would you prefer Daddy Z? I believe that’s one of the official team nicknames.”
I choke on air. “How do you know that?”
“You told me. Last week. After your second glass of wine.” She grins.
I drop my forehead to the table. “I hate you.”
“You love me. Now talk. What’s the update?”
I lift my head and take a long sip of my smoothie, stalling. Because the truth is, I don’t even know where to start. The last two weeks have been a blur of stolen moments, lingering glances, and the constant, low-grade hum of want that I can’t seem to shake no matter how hard I try.
“I met his daughter,” I finally say.
Winnie’s eyebrows shoot up. “You what?”
“His nanny had an emergency. He needed someone to watch her. I was...” I trail off. “Available.”
“Available.” She repeats the word slowly, like she’s testing it for hidden meaning. “So you babysat for him.”
I shrug. “I was just... helping out.”
“For how long?”
“A few hours.”
“And?”
I stare into my smoothie. “And she’s great. She’s six, and she’s funny and sweet and way too smart for her own good. She made me rank her stuffed animals by importance and quizzed me on dinosaur facts, and she—” My throat tightens unexpectedly. “She fell asleep holding my hand.”
Winnie is quiet for a moment. When I look up, her expression has shifted into something softer, more serious. “Tori.”
“I know.”
“You met his kid. You were in his house. You tucked his daughter into bed.”
“I know, okay? I know.” I press my palms against my eyes. “And then he came home, and we had wine in his kitchen, and he was looking at me like—”
“Like what?”
Like I was something he wanted to keep. I don’t say that out loud. It sounds too big. Too real.
“Like he wanted to kiss me again,” I say instead.
“Again?” Winnie leans forward. “Wait. Back up. You kissed again?”
I nod. “In the training room and then at a team banquet, and I—” I’m rambling now, words tumbling out faster than I can organize them. “The second one was in a hallway, and he had me against the wall, and I could feel—I mean, he was—”
“Hard?”
“Winnie.”
“What? I’m just clarifying.” She’s grinning now, enjoying this way too much. “So you’ve made out with your hockey player multiple times, you’ve met his daughter, you’ve been in his home, and you’re sitting here acting like this is still somehow professional?”
“It is still professional. Technically. We haven’t actually...” I make a vague gesture.
“Haven’t actually what? Jumped his bones? Let him score?”
“Please stop.”
“Let him put the puck in the net? Taken a ride on his hockey stick?”
“I will throw this smoothie at you.”
She laughs, bright and delighted, and a guy two tables over literally turns around to stare at her.
“Okay, okay.” She holds up her hands in surrender. “I’ll behave. But Tori, seriously.” Her expression sobers. “You know what’s happening here, right?”
“Nothing is happening.”
“Something is definitely happening. You’re falling for this guy.”
The words land in my chest like a stone dropped into still water, ripples spreading outward and disturbing everything.
“I can’t fall for him,” I say quietly. “I have rules. Rules that exist for a reason. You’re the one who warned me about his reputation, remember?”
“I know. And I stand by being cautious.” She reaches across the table and takes my hand. “But I’ve also been watching you for the past few weeks, and you know what I see?”
“What?”
“Someone who’s actually happy.” She squeezes my fingers. “When’s the last time you felt like this about anyone?”
I think about my nonexistent dating life.
“It’s been a while,” I admit.
“Exactly.” She releases my hand and sits back. “Look, I’m not saying throw caution to the wind. I’m just saying... maybe don’t let fear make your decisions for you.”
“I’m not—”
“I know you, Tori. You use logic like a shield.”
That lands a little too close to home. I take another sip of my smoothie just to have something to do.
“He’s got a kid,” I say finally. “Anyone he dates isn’t just dating him—they’re auditioning for stepmom. That’s... a lot.”
“So?”
“So am I even ready for that? I’m twenty-six. I still forget to water my plants. I ate cereal for dinner three times last week.” I drain half my glass. “And Maisie’s already been abandoned by her mom. She doesn’t need some random woman waltzing in and then disappearing when things get hard.”
Winnie tilts her head, studying me. “Do you think that’s what you’d do? Waltz in and disappear?”
“No. I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Tori.” She sets down her wine. “You’ve wanted kids for as long as I’ve known you. You used to babysit three families on our street at the same time and loved every second of it. You cried at that diaper commercial last month.”
“It was emotional. The dad learned to braid hair.”
“My point is, you’re not some flight risk. You’re the most loyal person I know.” She pulls her smoothie closer. “And yeah, dating a guy with a kid is serious. But you’re not some random woman. You’re you. And from everything you’ve told me, that little girl already likes you.”
I think about Maisie looking up at me with those trusting eyes, telling me her daddy talked about me.
My throat tightens.
“What if I mess it up?”
“What if you don’t?”
I drop my head onto the table with a groan and Winnie pats it.
“Not every relationship ends in disaster. Some of them actually work out.”
I look up. “Says the woman who’s been with Derek for two years.”
Something flickers across her face. There and gone, so fast I almost miss it.
“How is Derek?” I ask, suddenly realizing I haven’t asked in weeks. I’ve been so wrapped up in my own drama. “Is everything okay with you guys?”
“Fine.” She says it too quickly, the same way I say “fine” when things are definitely not fine.
“Win.”
“It’s fine, Tori. We’re just... going through a thing.” She waves a hand vaguely. “Every couple goes through things.”
“What kind of thing?”
She’s quiet for a moment, stirring her smoothie with the paper straw. “The kind where I’m starting to wonder if we want the same things. Or if we ever did.”
My chest tightens. Winnie and Derek have never made sense to me, but I thought she was happy.
They’re not the most obviously compatible couple—he’s kind of a dudebro with strong opinions about protein intake, the “right” way to grill a steak, and why everyone should be doing cold plunges.
And she’s... well, Winnie, the sweetest, kindest, most genuine soul—but I always assumed they were solid.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really. Not today.” She looks up and gives me a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Today is about your love life drama. Mine can wait.”
“Win—”
“I mean it. I’m fine.” She reaches over and pats my hand. “Besides, we were in the middle of something important. You were telling me about your hockey player’s impressive... attributes.”
“I was not telling you that.”
“You were about to. I could see it in your eyes.”
I laugh despite myself. “You’re impossible.”
“I’m delightful. There’s a difference.” She grins, and it’s almost her normal grin. Almost. “Now. Back to the important stuff. You’ve kissed him twice. Met his daughter. So, what’s the plan?”
“There is no plan. I’m just... taking it day by day.”
“That’s not a plan. That’s avoidance.”
“It’s called being cautious.”
She takes a breath. “I think you’re going to sleep with him.”
I nearly spit out my smoothie. “Winnie.”
“No, I mean it. You’re going to sleep with him, and it’s going to be amazing, and then you’re going to have a full-scale panic attack about what it means.” She tilts her head. “Am I wrong?”
“I have rules,” I say weakly.
“Babe.” She puts a hand on my arm. “Rules are meant to be broken. Especially the dumb ones.”
“It’s not dumb. It’s my career.”
“Your career will survive. You’re good at your job. One relationship isn’t going to change that.” Her expression softens. “The question is whether your heart will survive if you keep pushing away the first guy who’s made you feel something in years.”
I’m not sure what to say.
Because she’s right. Zayden Bishop makes me feel things. Things I’d forgotten I was capable of feeling. Things I’d convinced myself I didn’t need.
And that terrifies me more than any career risk ever could.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I admit quietly.
“Nobody does. That’s the secret.” Winnie squeezes my arm. “But I’ve seen you at your worst, Tori. After Jason, after all of it. I’ve never seen you light up the way you do when you talk about this guy.”
“I don’t light up.”
“You absolutely light up. Like a dang Christmas tree. Your whole face changes. It’s honestly kind of disgusting.”
I laugh, even though my eyes are suddenly stinging. “I’m scared, Win. What if I mess this up? What if I’m not what he needs? What if Maisie gets attached and then I—”
“What if it works out?” She cuts me off gently. “What if he’s exactly what you need, and you’re exactly what he needs, and that little girl gets someone in her life who actually shows up?”
My throat tightens.
“You’d be good at it, you know,” Winnie adds, softer now. “The mom thing. You’ve always been nurturing; it’s in your DNA.”
That’s the thing about having a best friend.
They see all the best parts of you.