Page 22 of The Dixon Rule

I want to ask her if she’s seeing anybody, but I know I shouldn’t. Fortunately, this time my mouth is able to curb the impulse.

“How about you?” Lynsey asks. “Everything’s good?”

“Yeah. Hockey’s great. New apartment is sick. Oh—my best friend got married.”

“What?! Who? Beckett?”

“Seriously? That’s your guess?” I sputter with laughter. “Try again.”

She gasps. “No. Ryder?”

“Yep.”

“When did this happen?” she demands.

“Three months ago.”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“Distance, remember?”

She sighs grudgingly. “Fine. That’s fair. But I think when it comes to friends getting married, you have an obligation to make that call. Deal?”

“Deal. I’ll call you when Beck gets married.”

“Thank you.” This time I can hear her smiling, and it sends another ache to my heart. “Did you guys enjoy your first season at Briar?”

“Definitely. We got off to a rocky start, but we won the Frozen Four, so I can’t complain.”

“What’s the campus like?”

“Great. Why? Want to transfer?” I joke.

She hesitates. “Actually…”

My pulse starts racing again. “Are you kidding me? You’re really thinking of transferring?”

“I’ve been considering it. I might want to take on another major, and Liberty doesn’t offer many academic options. I heard Briar has an excellent psych program. And I already spoke to my advisor—she said it would be easy to transfer. I have all the credits I need and won’t have to retake anything. But…I don’t know. It’s kind of far, and…”

And you’re there is the rest of that sentence.

“Come on, Linz. Briar is big enough for the both of us. We could probably go years without crossing paths.”

“No, that’s not it.”

I snort.

“It’s not entirely it,” she amends. “But yes, I might come and do a tour.”

“Nice. If you do, you’re welcome to crash here. I have a very comfortable couch.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“It’s not an imposition. You know you’re always welcome here. Same goes for Monique and the rest of the old crew. Just because you and I aren’t together, doesn’t mean we’re not all still friends, right?”

Her voice softens. “Well, thanks, Lindy. I appreciate that.”

I’m wired after we end the call. My skin’s buzzing, pulse still off-kilter. I head for the living room and step onto my balcony, which overlooks the landscaped grounds. I can’t quite see the pool, but I have a clear view of the flower-lined path leading to it. I feel like I’m at a Caribbean resort. It’s fucking amazing.

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