On the way to the locker room, I rip off my helmet and Andrei high-fives me. “Nice work,” he says, then smacks palms with Ledger too. “And you too, old man.”

  Ledger thumps Andrei’s head. “Where was your goal tonight, kid?”

  Andrei laughs it off and the conversation moves on to the next game and the one after that.

  And that’s the thing—it was one game, and anything could have happened, but it was a relief to play well. The bigger relief? My teammates haven’t said a thing about the podcast blowup and the big she’s your fake girlfriend bit.

  In the hallway, Gianna catches up and says she wants Ledger and me for the post-game press in ten minutes.

  “I’ll be there,” I say, and a few minutes later, after I take off my skates and jersey, we head to the media room. Along the way, Ledger shoots me a thoughtful look. “Don’t let that shit get to you. That bad luck charm stuff. I don’t think you are, but I just wanted to say it.”

  And I spoke too soon. They noticed. Or at least, he did.

  “Me, let something get to me? Never,” I say, keeping things light even though I don’t feel that way inside. I haven’t since Trina walked out. I know it’s for the best. Truly, I do. But I miss her more than I’d expected. Too bad there’s nothing I can do about it.

  Ledger gives me a dubious look, but there’s no time to dig deeper since Gianna’s ready and waiting outside the room. Which means I need my armor since it’s New York and the press here has fangs.

  After a couple easy questions about the game, a reporter in the back barks out, “Joe Cotton. New York Press. So you dumped the bad luck charm?”

  And I burn inside as the gloves come off. I hate that he called her that. But I can’t let on. I’m all smiles as I say, “C’mon, Joe. You know you can’t believe everything you read. She’s a friend.”

  “That’s not what I heard,” Joe presses. “She was your pretend girlfriend. Why’d you need a pretend girlfriend? To improve your play?”

  And yup. I had a feeling this would happen, but I’m staying on message because it’s the right thing for her. But Gianna cuts in, leaning toward the mic at the table. “We’d like to keep the questions focused on hockey.”

  “Fine. How was it dating someone who hates the sport?” someone else asks.

  Clever. Real clever.

  “That’s not hockey related,” Gianna corrects, but I can’t let her handle this mess for me.

  “Actually, she knows a helluva lot about hockey,” I say. “Picked up the nuances real fast. And if you’re interested in nuance, you might want to consider reading a romance novel. You might learn a thing or two. Next question?”

  Gianna seems to stifle a grin, and she lets the questions come. I handle them all. I might not be able to have Trina, but I can protect her even from afar.

  Later, when the battering session is done, I return to the locker room with Gianna and Ledger. “It’ll die down soon. And then you’ll be like me, and they’ll just ask when you’ll retire,” he says.

  “Not on my watch,” Gianna warns him.

  “Or mine,” I add. I rely on this guy. I don’t want to think about playing without him. Just like I don’t want to think about being back in my home without Trina when I return to California in a few more days.

  That’s going to suck big time.

  Sucks, too, that I can’t call or text Ryker to get a beer and play pool. We’re not really talking, and that’s all kinds of messed up.

  But for now, I’m the hassle to the team, and I hate being that guy. “Listen, Gianna. This should blow over soon. I’m going to do everything I can to make sure we can just keep on sailing,” I say, staying cheery.

  “It’s okay. My job is to smooth your path, not the other way around.”

  “Thank you,” I say, wishing I didn’t need the help.

  When she heads the other way, Ledger holds up a stop-sign hand. “Chase,” he says and shit’s getting serious if he’s using my first name.

  “Yeah?”

  “I told the guys not to say anything. About the podcast and your…friend. And everything that went down.”

  Oh.

  I scratch my jaw, a little embarrassed that it came to that, him cleaning up my mess. But this explanation makes sense—explains why the guys said nothing. They listen to Ledger since he speaks from years of authority.

  “Um, thanks,” I say.

  “Anytime,” he says, then clears his throat. “But I did it because you seemed happier before.”

  Ledger doesn’t usually give relationship advice. “That so?” I say with a smile.

  “Yeah, that doesn’t fool me. That smile,” he says, calling bullshit. “If the bad luck charm makes you happy, get her back. We all know it wasn’t fake.”

  He turns around and heads into the locker room, leaving me stuck with that piece of advice.

  Get her back.

  As if it’s not the thing I want most. And the thought I’ve been trying to avoid since I let her go on Sunday night.

  Alone in my hotel room that night, I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, the words get her back echoing in my head.

  Nice idea, but it seems impossible. Ledger doesn’t know it wasn’t just her and me. There was someone else in the mix too, and we both want the girl. We both want to share the girl. But I’m not even talking to Ryker. Not so much as a single text. So getting back the girl seems harder than pulling off a hat trick.

  I need to keep my head in the game, even if my heart’s on the other side of the country.

  But as the trip goes on, the missing doesn’t ebb even as we keep winning. It intensifies. Every day. Hell, every hour. By the time the trip ends, and I’m boarding the plane back to San Francisco, my chest is tight, my muscles are tense, and my head is a mess. I can’t separate thoughts of her from thoughts of anything else.

  I can’t focus on a single thing that’s not her, knowing I’ll be in the same city as her again.

  I’ll be close to her store. Close to her. She’s all I can think about. She’s the only thing on my mind. And she’s filling up every hollow space in my heart.

  I can’t fix this feeling. I can’t solve this feeling. I can’t paste on a smile and make it all go away.

  I just want her, no matter how hard I try to be the same guy I was before.

  Because maybe I’m not the same guy anymore.

  39

  IT’S COMPLICATED

  Ryker

  When my Saturday afternoon game ends, I meet Ivy for an early dinner in Hayes Valley. We’re at a trendy spot she picked out that serves Mediterranean food, and I wish she’d told me in advance since it reminds me of Trina. But then again, everything does.

  That’s just my life.

  Ivy and I catch up about her work and Grandma over hummus, but a few minutes in, she sets down her mojito. “Enough of this small talk. What’s going on with Trina and you and Chase?”

  “Someone doesn’t mess around,” I say with a low whistle of appreciation for her candor.

  She’s unflinching. “Talk. It’s that thing people do with those they trust when something’s on their mind.”

  But where do I even start? It all feels so big, so consuming. I drag a hand over my beard, hunting for a way out but knowing I won’t find one. Or maybe I don’t want one anymore. Maybe I’m ready for…connection.

  “So, after the wedding, we had this huge fight,” I begin, then tell her what went down. What I said, what Chase said, how she left, how I left, and how I haven’t talked to Chase since and can’t get Trina out of my head.

  “First, you’re pissed at him. I get that,” she says. Then she tilts her head, studies me with those deep blue eyes. “It sounds like you really miss her.”

  Part of me wants to deny it, even though I know that’s pointless. Ivy knows me too well and can see right through me. So I just nod instead.

  “I miss her like I’d miss breathing,” I finally admit, taking a sip of my beer as if it might give me some courage to go on. “But it’s complicated.”

  She laughs at that but shakes her head. “Ryker, of course it’s complicated. That’s why you need to talk to Chase, and then you need to figure out how to breathe again.”

  I close my eyes for a second, picturing Trina, how I felt with her. Understood. Accepted. Most of all, I felt trust, coming both ways. From her, from me, and then, honestly, with my best friend too.

  It’s so strange, wanting all of that. Wanting to have her both to myself but also with him. Wanting to love her but not just alone. Wanting to give her more love like she deserves.

  Would he even want to though? And would she want to hear from us again? No idea, but it’s time to fix everything that’s wrong.

  I can’t avoid him much longer. And I don’t want to.

  40

  WHAT IF IT DOES?

  Trina

  The door to my studio apartment swings shut as Aubrey and I step inside on Saturday evening. It smells of paint and freshness, and finally I feel some joy in my own space. It’s starting to look like home, especially when Nacho scrambles around my feet to say hi. I scoop up his cuteness and give him a kiss in greeting. “Missed you, but we were only at the farmers’ market for a half hour,” I say.

  In dog time, that’s forever, so he takes another minute to kiss me before settling into his bed with a satisfied huff.

  I head to the kitchen counter where Aubrey sets the daisies we bought in a vase, then takes a step back to survey the room.

  “There,” I say since it’s finally come together, and Aubrey’s been helping me make it look like home. My little home with my little dog. Just us. “Looks good. Thanks to the flowers.”

  Aubrey takes in the scene with an approving eye, but then turns on her eagle-eyed-friend vision. “The place looks great, but now that we’re alone, tell me—how are you really doing?”

  My heart aches in response. “Sad,” I admit, before quickly pushing away the thought and forcing a more optimistic tone in my voice. “But you know what? It’ll be okay. Eventually it will be okay.”

  “You don’t have to be a tough girl with me,” she says as she heads to the couch that came with the place. Furnished studio for the win.

  “It’s been almost a week. I’m fine. I’m just fine,” I say, staying strong, keeping my chin up.

  “Are you though?” she asks, not letting this go.

  She pats the couch, and I join her, slumping against her, grateful to admit the full truth. “I miss them still. I have all week. So much it hurts. But what can I do?”

  I sit up, exhaling, trying to let them go once again like I’ve done every day for the last week. I’ve had no luck though. There’s a Chase-and-Ryker-sized hole in my heart, and it shows no signs of mending.

  “Well,” she says, meeting my eyes, “you could talk to them.”

  I shudder. “Talk. Ugh. What is that? That sounds terrifying.”

  She laughs, but then quickly turns serious again. “You could though, Trina,” she urges.

  “But I did. I literally told them,” I say, and she knows because she’s heard the story. She heard it the day I drowned my sorrows with her in nachos—well, they’re a favorite—and cheap wine and friendship. “And Chase said nothing, and Ryker basically said hey, I had a good week.”

  “I know, but I just think with everything that went down, maybe Chase was really rattled. I think he was truly trying to help. And I think Ryker was pissed because he’s already madly in love with you.”

  I wish I had her optimism. Truly, I do. “That doesn’t mean he wants to be with me. And it’s fine. I mean, who finds their two true loves a few weeks after a horrible ex cheats on them? That stuff doesn’t happen.”

  The stuff that does happen is this—longing, missing, wanting. But then, figuring out how to move on. I’ll have to do that, even though I ache terribly for the two men I never expected to fall for.

  “But what if it does?” Aubrey asks, encouragingly.

  The question is too tempting. Too alluring. It’s a question for book club. A question for starry-eyed dreamers. One I’ll ask the ladies tomorrow night.

  In the real world? No matter how much I wish it were true—and I wish for it from the bottom of my soul—it can’t be.

  I used to think the three of us couldn’t be a thing because of my family. Because of my sister. Because of all their unmet expectations of me. But sometime in the week I spent with Chase and Ryker, I learned to let go of their life plans for me.

  To embrace my own un-plan.

  I came to accept myself, and my own quirky, messy, making-it-up-as-I-go-along choices. Including the one to fall for two men. To imagine a future with two men. To see that as a bright, new possibility, with me and my two guys.

  I was ready that night after the wedding. Ready to say screw the world, let’s be together anyway.

  But I told them I was falling for them, and they didn’t see it the same way. I’ll have to keep moving forward into my own messy future, full of unpredictable choices.

  Even though the question Aubrey asked plays on repeat for the next day.

  What if it does?

  41

  THE BIG IF

  Chase

  The text arrives when I’m walking to my mom’s home for the lunch she planned last week—the one with the guy I used to call my best friend.

  Ryker: Let’s talk. Today.

  That’s a relief. I was about to send him one saying the same thing. I hit reply.

  Chase: Agree. Let’s do it in about ten minutes.

  But the rest of the way, I’m still a powder keg. Too many emotions swirl inside me. I’m still pissed at Ryker for the attitude and a half that he gave me a week ago. I’m filled with regret for letting go of Trina. And then, there’s this brand-new emotion that’s jostling all the others like bumper cars.

  Obsession, I think?

  But that doesn’t feel quite right.

  Sure, I can’t stop thinking about Trina. Yes, I can’t stop wanting her. But I also want to shower her with gifts and pleasure and kisses and sex and adoration and so much more.

  Is that obsession?

  Hell if I know, but the question is driving me mad. It was driving me mad when I was in New York and then in Boston. It’s reached a boiling point now that I’m in the same vicinity as she is. I’m itching to go see her, to find her, to tell her I wake up thinking of her, I go to bed and dream of her, and I spend all day wanting her.

  I don’t know how to contain all these feelings. But I know this—I no longer want to.

  It’s time to deal.

  When I reach my mom’s home, she swings open the door. I relax for a second, giving her a hug and handing her a three-bean salad I picked up at the gourmet shop she loves.

  “Good to see you, Mom,” I say.

  “You too. You look good. But out of sorts,” she says, reading me right away.

  “I feel out of sorts,” I admit.

  She nods sagely. “It’s about a girl, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” I say, relieved.

  “Well, sort it out, kid,” she says, and on that simple piece of advice, I head inside, feeling a little less tightly wound. I breathe in the lavender scent of her home—one she owns fully, thanks to the money she and my dad put away. She’s been able to do that partly because I pay for college for my brothers, so she never had to worry about that.

  But as I walk through her bright, cheery home, it hits me—we’ve done it. Mom and me. She’s made it through the tough years. I helped her like my dad asked me to. But she helped herself too.

  Now, she’s secure and my brothers are set. Maybe it’s time to take care of me finally.

  I’m ready at last. Hell, that’s probably why I’m obsessed.

  In the kitchen, I find Ryker’s mom pouring a glass of chablis. “Hi, Chase. You better have brought a good salad this time. I still have nightmares about the egg salad from last month,” she says, then shudders.

  I smile, grateful for the levity, then give her a hug. “This one is good. I promise.”

  I don’t sit though. I’m antsier than I ever have been for a simple lunch. More out of sorts than when I’ve stepped onto the ice during playoffs.

  For all my time spent taking care of people, I’m clueless about romance.

  But maybe it’s like hockey. When the puck drops, you go after it. Seconds after Ryker rings the bell then comes inside, I don’t waste time. “Excuse me, ladies,” I say to the moms, then I tip my forehead to the patio. “We need to talk.”

  “Yes, we do,” he says.

  But before he heads outside with me, he looks to his mom, then mine. “Nice to see you. I guess I’ve been summoned.”

  His mom shoos him off. “Wish I could get my popcorn and watch, but you boys probably need to figure out your girl situation on your own.”

  Our moms are both smiling, and maybe, just maybe, they’re on our side. That’s a wild thought. But I’d better not put the cart before the horse.

  Once we’re on the back patio, I dive in. “I’m mad at you, but I’m mad at me too.”

  “Welcome to the club,” he says.

  “Everything is a mess, and we need to straighten it out,” I say, determined, like I was the night of the wedding but in a whole new way and for a whole new goal.

  “That’s what I was telling you a week ago. But then you didn’t even ask me what I wanted with Trina and, for fuck’s sake, with the three of us, man,” he says, but he doesn’t sound angry now. He sounds pissed but vulnerable, and that’s a different beast. I can work with this beast. Hell, I am this beast too. “You just decided how it was going to be. You didn’t even ask what I wanted or what she wanted.”

  “That’s fair,” I say honestly, taking it on the chin, letting go of my anger like he’s let go of his. “I’m sorry I was a unilateral dick.”