Page 36 of A Major Puck Up

“Are you close with your other brother too?” She stands from the couch and wanders over to a table we’ve set up with a makeshift coffee station.

“Paul is…” I worry my lip, pondering a polite way to describe him. “Unmotivated.”

Sienna smiles. “So nothing like you and Daniel.”

I shrug. “Neither of us is like Daniel. Since the day he first put on a pair of skates, he’s been driven to become a pro hockey player. And now he is.”

Sienna laughs. “Oh, I get the hockey thing. And the sports thing. My family lives and breathes it.”

I ignore the mention of her family because that will only send me down a tailspin thinking about her brother. And about the ridiculous text message I sent last night. God, what was I thinking?

I can’t think about her brother. He’s the only thing I’ve thought about for more than a year. Something must be wrong with me.

“You ever play any sports?”

She scrunches her nose. “Does this face look like it’s ever been touched by sports?”

Of course not. Sienna’s skin is porcelain white, all her features dainty.

“I miss my brothers too.” She settles beside me again and hands me a cup of coffee. “I barely got to see them after the game, and I don’t know when I’ll make it back to Boston again.”

“Do you regret moving to Paris?”

Sienna turns to face me, her eyes wide. “God, no. Do you?”

The answer should be easy. I should be ecstatic to be here, to be involved in what she’s creating. But outside of work and Sienna, I don’t have much tethering me to this city. And I can’t get her brother off my mind, even if he’s made it clear that there’s no possibility of a future for us. “I don’t regret it. But I do miss home.”

Sienna nods. “That’s the difference between you and me. This is my home.” She pats me on the knee. “Come on, let’s finish up here, and then I’ll take you to my favorite restaurant. I’m making it my mission to get you to fall in love with this city just like I did.”

It’s after ten p.m. when I’m finally slogging my way up the steps to my apartment. The whole world has grand illusions about what it’s like to live in Paris. Like every balcony has a beautiful view of the Eiffel tower and that fresh croissants and cappuccinos are hand delivered every morning. That has not been my experience. My apartment is tiny. It’s furnished with a bed and a two-person table. Nothing more. There isn’t room for more. The kitchenette isn’t much bigger than the minuscule closet. There’s no room for a couch or even an armchair for visitors.

Not that I’d have visitors. I work all day, then come home and crash, and that’s how it’s been for the past year.

Keeping up with Sienna is an impossible task. Even if I find the time to go out, I spend most of it on my phone working because Sienna never stops.

Tonight, all I can think about is crawling into bed and falling asleep. And maybe sleeping for the next twenty-four hours. She’s giving me the weekend off now that we’re finished setting up for next week. After flying back and forth from Boston to Paris in only two days, I need it.

And I need to sleep so I can stop thinking about Gavin and that damn text message from last night. I don’t know what I was thinking.

You weren’t, my mind taunts. I saw him in his suit out on the ice, holding up the Stanley Cup, smiling wide and looking beautiful, and I ached for him.

I’m sure he never even saw my last message. He was probably out celebrating and is sleeping off a hangover now. Maybe with someone else in his bed.

God, that thought makes my stomach turn.

It shouldn’t. I shouldn’t still want him.

It’s been over a year.

But the moment I saw him, every emotion that plagued me for months after we met came rushing back.

At the top of the stairs, I stop short, and my heart races. Because there’s a figure slumped against my door. The dim light of the hallway casts him in shadow, making it impossible to get a look at his face as I take a step back and dig my phone out of my pocket, prepared to call my landlord. The building door was locked when I came in, but this man found his way inside regardless. Shit.

“Peaches?”

The voice is scratchy, but I’d know it anywhere, and that one word sends my heart tumbling.

“Gavin?” I turn on my phone’s flashlight and shine it in his direction.

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