ELEVEN
GAVIN
June
Peaches: Congrats on the win! Stanley Cup champs! It’s incredible. I’m sorry I missed you after the game.
Me: Thanks! Yeah, it got a little crazy around here. Are you still in Boston?
Peaches: No. Took the red-eye. I have to help Sienna prepare for her show in London.
Me: Sorry I missed you. Sienna has had nothing but good things to say about you.
Peaches: She’s great.
Peaches: I should be over you by now, right?
Fuck. I dig the heels of my hands into my eyes and groan. What the hell am I supposed to say to this girl? It’s been over a year since I last saw her. And still, she haunts my thoughts day in and day out. My team just won the Stanley Cup. I should be on cloud nine. My brothers’ first championship, the team’s first ever cup, should be the only thing taking up space in my mind. But a simple text from Millie, and she’s all I can think about.
I shouldn’t want her. Definitely shouldn’t still be thinking about her.
Every reason I have for staying away for the past year flits through my mind, one after another, on repeat, even as I grab my duffel bag and shove clothes and toiletries into it.
There are a million reasons to stay away.
A million reasons why we won’t work.
I open the safe and snag my passport.
Then I text my driver.
Millie Hall is the last girl I should want.
But I’m tired of being reasonable.
Fuck it.