But she didn’t have any social media, or at least none that I could find. And even though my buddy, Nate Waller, went into the tech business, I could never bring myself to ask him to look.

  He would’ve done it if I asked. He knew how much her leaving fucked with my head.

  But if he found her, and I know he could’ve found her, then what?

  I just show up on her doorstep?

  Beg her for answers?

  What if she’d been married?

  I stare at her name on the paper.

  Still Utley.

  Hopefully that means she’s single. Or at least not married.

  Just like I never got married.

  It’s not like I stayed celibate all these years. But I did make a point to only date women who didn’t remind me of her.

  Which, now that I think about it, probably saved me from marriage. Because no matter how much Hannah shredded my young heart by disappearing like that. A part of me always recognized that she was exactly the type of woman I’d want to spend my life with.

  Not that any of that matters anymore.

  Because when Hannah looked at me today, she looked at me like she didn’t even know me.

  EIGHT

  HANNAH

  “Good night,” I call back to Mom and Chelsea.

  They’re going to stay up and watch another episode, or more likely three, of the new makeup artist reality show they found. It’s entertaining, but unlike the two of them, I have an alarm going off in the morning.

  Between the dining area and the kitchen is the staircase leading upstairs, but I take the short hallway next to it and head toward the back of the house.

  My bedroom is the only one on the main level, across from one of the two bathrooms. The first and third generations of the family have bedrooms upstairs, sharing the other larger bathroom.

  The floorboards, a light wood that is original to the house, creak beneath my feet.

  I pass our little laundry room, and then on my left is the bathroom, and on the right is my bedroom.

  It’s a small room, but it’s a corner room, so I have one window overlooking the side yard and one to the back yard, giving me lots of light when I happen to be home during the day and want to hide away with a book.

  The space was actually meant to be a study, not a bedroom, so the entire wall that the door is on is covered with built-in bookshelves.

  I step into my room and shut the door, and as always, it feels like I’m walking into my own personal library.

  After pulling the curtains closed, I climb into bed.

  As is customary, I brushed my teeth and changed into my sleep pants and tank top before the last episode. It’s something Mom and I started doing back when I was in high school, so if we stayed up too late watching TV, we could go right to bed.

  Small flickers of moonlight sift through the curtains, reminding me of a time I slept in a different library.

  Pulling the blankets up to my chin, I close my eyes and let myself remember.

  When we realized we’d been locked in, Maddox and I came together like magnets. Like there was no other outcome than us combining the way we did.

  We used benches as a bed, and… after, I used his chest as a pillow, and we used his hoodie as a blanket.

  I think about the paper football he had in his pocket, how he propped it against his chest and told me to make a wish and flick it onto a chair for the wish to come true.

  I wished for Maddox to be the man that I marry.

  And when the paper football went off course, he kicked it into place.

  At the time, it felt like a sign. Like some sort of good omen.

  But ever since then, I’ve decided it wasn’t. That maybe his interference messed with our destinies. Like he rewrote our timelines with that one kick.

  It’s foolish, of course. Destinies aren’t real.

  But what if he hadn’t helped it? What if it had continued off course and landed on the floor?

  Maybe I would’ve gone to sleep that night with a little less confidence. And therefore wouldn’t have put so much weight on our time together.

  I roll onto my side and curl my hands under my chin.

  I never forgot about Maddox. But as time went by, as I watched his life morph into that of a professional athlete, the memories felt less and less real. Because he became someone I didn’t know anymore.

  He became such a distant figure I never even considered what I’d do if I ran into him again.

  Of course, I knew he lived somewhere in the Twin Cities since he played for the Biters for five years. But we ran in such different circles it didn’t occur to me to worry about it.

  But just because I kept an eye on his career, doesn’t mean I was pining over him, just curious.

  I’ve dated since then. Gone out with some really nice guys. It’s just bad luck that nothing has worked out.

  I wasn’t waiting.

  NINE

  MADDOX

  “I know several teams have their eye on Max Lovelace for first-round drafts next April,” the sportscaster says about my little brother.

  I keep listening to the TV but pull up the location for Petals again.

  There’s something about all this that just doesn’t make sense.

  Why would Hannah work at this dinky shop for so many years, then leave for HOP U for only one week before returning?

  She never struck me as the irresponsible or rash type. She wouldn’t have done all the work to get admitted, move, and get a job on campus, just to leave.

  I slap my phone down onto my thigh.

  Why am I obsessing about this?

  She’s just some woman I used to know.

  I force my eyes to the TV screen. But I only make it a few minutes before I pick my phone back up and send the link with the business name and location to Waller.

  Me: Do me a favor?

  Waller: If you want me to send you roses, you can just ask.

  Me: If I have to ask…

  Waller: You getting drunk without me?

  Me: No. But it’s not a bad idea.

  Waller: I’m out of town, so you’ll have to drink alone tonight. But I can send the flowers if it’ll make you feel better.

  I snort. Waller can be an idiot, but there’s a reason we’ve stayed friends since our days playing for HOP U. Even while playing for rival teams, we always stayed in touch. And now, we both ended up retired in Minnesota. Me because I grew up here, him because he visited and fell in love.

  Me: I can buy my own flowers. I need you to look into the business. Background shit.

  Waller: I suppose solar energy and floral arrangements could go together.

  Me: Why am I friends with you?

  Waller: Because I’m so pretty.

  I laugh out loud.

  Me: My left foot is prettier than you.

  It’s not true. With wavy hair and defined features, Waller’s never had trouble getting attention.

  Me: One of my employees worked there for a long time, and I have some questions.

  I should just tell him who. It’s probably been a decade since he’s heard me talk about her, but I’m sure he’d remember.

  But for some reason, I’m not ready to tell him.

  Mostly because he’ll ask questions I don’t have answers to.

  And his first question will be asking if I’m going to go after her.

  My gut reaction is yes. But my heart reaction is no. And my brain reaction reminds me there’s a no-fraternizing policy at my company. A policy I made sure was in place when I first joined the industry to keep employees from hitting on me.

  Waller: On it.

  Me: Thanks.

  It’s not that late, but I’m exhausted and ready to be done with this day.

  Picking the remote up, I turn off the large TV mounted over the fireplace and stand from my couch.

  My knees twinge, mirroring the ache in my back, but after a few steps, they loosen up.

  The plate from my dinner is already in the dishwasher, so I grab my glass of water off the island and turn off the kitchen lights.

  I flip off the rest of the lights as I head to the main stairway, but moonlight shines through the uncovered windows, illuminating my way.

  At the top of the steps, I turn right toward the owner’s suite.

  The other direction houses the rarely used guest suites.

  I step through the open double doors into my bedroom and leave them open. There’s no one here, so there’s no need to close doors behind me.

  My bed is unmade, how I left it, and I strip as I cross the room.

  Naked, I walk into the attached bathroom and through to my walk-in closet.

  After selecting a clean pair of boxers, I pull them on, then go back into the bathroom to brush my teeth.

  The routine is second nature, and while I run through it, my mind wanders back to Hannah.

  It stays on her as I spit my toothpaste into the sink.

  It stays on her as I exit my bathroom and cross to my bed.

  And I can’t stop thinking about her as I pull the blankets into place.

  With my arms spread out across the mattress, I think about that one night we had together. How I lay down just like this, on a bed made of benches, and how she curled up into my side. How her little hand looked on my chest, and how I could feel the warmth of her thigh as she hitched it up over mine.

  I close my eyes and think about my Hannah Bunny.

  How the first three times I saw her, she ran away. Like a scared little bunny.

  And I think about her hiding today.

  How she’s still running from me. Acting like I’m a stranger.

  But no matter how much time has passed, we’re not strangers.

  Maybe I need to remind her of who I am.

  TEN

  HANNAH

  Crouched next to my chair, I pull open the bottom drawer of my desk.

  Apparently, the companies were preparing for this merger for a lot longer than anyone told us, because the office upstairs is ready for us to start moving in on Monday. Hence me spending my Friday morning packing all my stuff.

  Annoyance flares every time I think about it.

  It’s not like I would’ve quit just because Maddox was going to be the new owner. Well, truthfully, I might’ve. But now we’ll never know. Because no one told us. But at the very least, I could have prepared myself better.

  Never thought I’d think this, but thank god for Brandon. If he hadn’t come into my office before my interview, I would’ve walked into that situation entirely blind.

  I shove a handful of files into the box.

  I didn’t see any signs of Maddox yesterday, so I just need to get through the rest of today, then I can have the weekend to stew over my current predicament.

  “Need a hand?”

  The deep voice startles me, and I start to tip.

  My arm jerks out in response, and I bang my elbow against the edge of the desk before losing my balance completely and ending up on my butt.

  “Shit!” I grab my elbow with my opposite hand and rub at the pain as I sit on the floor.

  “Hannah?” Maddox’s voice moves closer until he’s looking at me over the top of my desk.

  Perfect. The exact man I was hoping to avoid today.

  “You alright?” The large man takes a step around the side of the desk.

  I stop rubbing my elbow to hold up my hand, palm out.

  He takes one more step before halting. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “You didn’t.” I don’t know why I deny it. It’s obvious he did. I’m on the floor, after all.

  “Of course not.” He presses his lips into a line, and I think the jerk is trying not to smile. “I forgot how accident prone you can be.”

  My mouth pops open, but before I can snap something at him, he bends down, hooks his hands under my arms, and lifts me to my feet.

  A small sound croaks out of my throat as my heart stutters in my chest.

  He shifts his hands so he’s gripping my upper arms, steadying me.

  His scent surrounds me as we stand chest to chest.

  It’s different than it used to be. Still soap and cologne, but more… grown up.

  It’s too much.

  Being this close… having him reference our history… it’s just all too much.

  How dare he?

  My nose starts to tingle.

  I can’t let him have this control over me again.

  My cheeks start to burn.

  “Hannah.” His tone is gentle. And it’s worse than the teasing.

  I straighten my shoulders. “I don’t know what you’re referring to, Mr. Lovelace.”

  He narrows his eyes the tiniest bit as he takes a step back. But instead of just dropping his hands, he trails his fingers down the backs of my arms, ghosting them over my hurt elbow. “Sure you don’t.”

  Goose bumps dance across my skin, but I ignore them. “Was there something you needed?”

  Maddox crosses his arms over his massive chest, the fabric of his sleeves stretched tight over his biceps.

  I don’t want to notice how good he looks. But again, he’s in a plain shirt and dark slacks, and he looks dangerously handsome.

  I take a small step back.

  He seems taller than he was in college, but maybe it’s just that he stands with even more confidence.

  Mad Dog Maddox was impressive in his twenties, but in his thirties, he’s a force.

  I cross my own arms, wanting to match his power pose.

  My maroon and white striped shirt is buttoned all the way up, unlike Maddox’s, and at my collar are two long strips of fabric I’ve tied into a bow. It’s cute, but it’s also a shirt I wear often, so no one will think I’m trying too hard to dress up on a casual Friday. Because I’m not wearing this for Maddox. I’m not trying to impress him at all. And if I have the loose-fitted shirt tucked into my snug but stretchy ankle jeans, that’s because it’s comfortable and has nothing to do with me thinking my butt looks good in these pants.

  Unwanted, a memory flashes in my mind of seeing Maddox on TV at some charity event with a stunning super-model-looking woman on his arm.

  I cross my arms tighter across my body.

  I have body-image issues like anyone, but I’ve learned to be comfortable in my skin. I’ve taught myself that all bodies are good bodies. I’ve made sure Chelsea has grown up in a home where no one is shamed for the way they look. And all of that makes me hate this self-conscious feeling even more.

  I don’t want to feel like this.

  I won’t let anyone make me feel like this.

  Heaving out a breath, I drop my arms.

  It’s not a power stance if I’m using it to hide.

  “Knock, kno —” Brandon starts from the doorway. “Uh, Hannah?”

  Maddox’s oversized frame is blocking me entirely from Brandon’s view.

  I step to the side, careful not to trip over my box of files, and look at my coworker. “I’m here.”

  His eyes go to the back of Maddox, then to me. I don’t miss the way Maddox is ignoring Brandon’s presence.

  “Just, um, wanted to see if you’d like to go out to lunch.”

  This isn’t the first time Brandon’s asked me. I’ve always said no in the past because I don’t want him to take it the wrong way, but I’m really tempted to accept today. Simply to get out of this situation.

  Then Brandon adds, “A bunch of us are going.”

  Sold.

  “I’d love to come.”

  Inwardly, I roll my eyes at the smug look on Brandon’s face.

  I’ve made it as clear as possible over the years that I’m not interested in knowing him outside of work. And he just invited me to a work lunch, with a bunch of other people, so there’s no reason at all for him to look like he’s won something.

  But whatever. Not my problem if he wants to be dumb.

  “Everyone leaving now?” I ask while I use my foot to kick the bottom drawer closed.

  “Yeah.” Brandon nods. “Heading over to Puck Off, that hockey-themed place with the good lunch specials.”

  Finally, Maddox turns away from me to face Brandon.

  Maddox lifts a brow. “Hockey?”

  Brandon grins. “No offense.”

  Men.

  Taking the opening, I snag my purse from atop my desk and step around Maddox.

  I’ve just made it past him, taken one step beyond his position, when he speaks.

  “I’ll meet you there.”

  ELEVEN

  MADDOX

  Hannah can’t hide her reaction. She doesn’t want me to come.

  Brandon is even worse at masking his annoyance, and that just makes me more certain of my first impression of him. Which is that I don’t like him. And now I know he has his sights set on Hannah.

  “Oh, uh, don’t feel like you have to. If you had plans…” Brandon glances back and forth from me to Hannah, who’s still frozen between us.

  “No other plans.” I step forward and place my hand on Hannah’s back — guiding her out of the office — and, if I’m reading him correctly, pissing Brandon off.

  “How many?” the host asks me as I walk into the restaurant.

  Then he does a double take.

  “Holy fuck!” He winces. “Sorry. But fuck! You’re Mad Dog Maddox, aren’t you?”

  I nod, and he runs his hands down his face. “Damn, dude, I love you. I mean, not in like a weird way. But…”

  I cut him a break and smile. “It’s alright, kid. I appreciate it.”

  The door opens behind me, but the kid — who is probably in his twenties — doesn’t pay the newcomers any attention.