As if she’s spilling classified, top-secret intel, Mollie looks around, seeing that it’s only her and June in the restroom now, though she doesn’t check for feet beneath the doors or else she’d see my brown boots. Quieter, she stage-whispers, “Well, we’re not telling anyone ...yet, because it’s technically against the rules—” She pauses dramatically, her eyes bright with glee. “But you’re his sister, so I can trust you. Dalton and I have been seeing each other for a while. Mostly when we’re on the road since we travel together for the games. You understand how it is.” She gives June a knowing look, assuming she’ll recognize why hotel rooms would make secret rendezvous easier.

“Oh!” June exclaims, her eyes popping wide open in surprise. But then her brows furrow. “Why is it against the rules?”

June hasn’t figured it out yet, but I have. Mollie is a Moosette. That’s why she looks vaguely familiar. The cheer team has a signature look, and Mollie’s appearance tonight is fresh off the ice postperformance.

Mollie laughs again, pushing at June’s shoulder like they’re girlfriends teasing each other, not complete strangers in a bar bathroom. “Oh god, he really didn’t say a thing, did he? That boy.” She shakesher head like Dalton’s the most exasperatingly adorable thing she’s ever met in her life. “I’m a Moosette. Strictly off-limits for the players.” She stands extra tall as she says that, throwing her dark hair back over her shoulders, tilting her head, and smirking seductively like she’s completely aware that she’s utterly irresistible. “But if we meet in the offseason and things happen? Well then, who’s to say an established couple can’t be part of the teams?” Mollie winks like she’s found a sneaky way around the rules. No, likethey’vefound a way.

Her and Dalton. Dalton and her. Them.

My heart drops into my ass. It’s a feeling I’ve felt before, when I was standing in the doorway of Buchanan’s dorm, looking past him in a pair of boxers I’d never seen at a half-dressed girl trying to cover up with the sheets we bought him at Target before he left for college. At the time, I wanted to yell at her not to touch the sheets I had selected, washed, folded, and put on his bed. What I’d really meant was “don’t touch my man,” but that ship had long since sailed given her lipstick was smeared across his mouth. And really, it wasn’t her fault.

It was his. Buchanan’s.

He was the one who’d made promises to me. He was the one who lied to me.

And now, Dalton’s done the same thing.

Athletes are the same every damn time. Get them on the road and they’ll stick their dick into any hole. Apparently, even jacking off with me isn’t enough if Dalton is dating this woman too.

I’ve read that there are four responses to trauma—fight, flight, freeze, and fawn. Right now, I’m frozen more solid than hockey ice. My body’s numb, my heart’s pounding, and my mind is shutting down so fast I can almost hear the Microsoft chimes. Still, I want to shake my head to drown out Mollie’s words, but I can’t. I’m stuck—physically, mentally, and emotionally frozen and left to hear the rest.

June got her answer, but she doesn’t seem to readily accept it. “So you’re one of the dancers ... and you’re not allowed to date players likeDalton. But you are?” In a single blink, June quickly scans Mollie, head to toe, and then settles her gaze back on her face. Her expression never changes, but Mollie’s does.

Mollie’s smile melts, her painted red lips looking clown-like for a moment until she forces them to lift again. “The Moosettes are the team’s cheerleaders. And yes, Dalton and I—”

I don’t want to hear this! I can’t listen to her talk about what her and Dalton are to each other. Please, make it stop!

A quote I saw in the days after coming back from that college trip screams its way into my mind.Men don’t have to lie to women. If she loves you enough, she’ll lie to herself for you.

That had hit me so hard back then because I knew it’d been true. I’d suspected Buchanan was cheating. That was the subconscious reason I’d made that trip and had felt it necessary to make it a surprise. On some level, I wanted to catch him red-handed so I’d know for sure and he couldn’t charm his way out of it.

Ever since, I’ve kept guys at arm’s length. Until Dalton. He tricked me, playing patient until I let him sneak through my defenses. I thought I was taking a calculated risk with him. Turns out I suck at math and should’ve stuck with the statistics I’m good at. Chances of an athlete cheating? One hundred fucking percent. I knew that and yet, I lied to myself again. Convincing my heart, little bit by little bit, that Dalton was different.

I don’t know what happens, but my body finally moves as another response kicks in. Flight. I have to get out of here. Now. Hearing any more is only going to make the sharp agony in my chest worse, so I flush the toilet. The sound is loud, instantly stopping all conversation on the other side of the door.

I open the stall door, forcing my face to stay painfully stoic as I meet the two women’s eyes.

Mollie’s hands fly up to cover her open mouth. “Oh! I didn’t realize anyone else was in here. Especially you, Joy!” She frowns hard, her eyespuppy-dog pleading. “Look, I know you’re a reporter, but you can’t tell anyone what you heard. Please! It’ll ruin everything.”

I want to punch her in those pretty red lips. I want to yell at her that Dalton’s fucking me too. But I don’t.

Living in a small town like Maple Creek, I know firsthand how gossip can be destructive to people’s lives, and I do my best to try to stay away from the grapevine in town. But when it’s about me or people I care about, it’s human nature to want to know what’s being said. That way I can either tell everyone how wrong they are or forewarn my family or friend, depending on the situation.

I wish someone had warned me this time.

So I do think about telling Mollie the truth about Dalton and me. She deserves to know. It’s not her fault Dalton’s a cheating asshole. She’s just a woman like me who thinks she’s found something special and is lying to herself the way I’ve been doing.

I start to say something, but the words don’t come.

It’s not my place to ruin it for her. Dalton will do that himself eventually. And truthfully, she probably wouldn’t believe me anyway. If someone had told me about Buchanan, I absolutely would’ve shot the messenger and not believed a word they told me. When I was ready, I found out on my own, and Mollie will too.

“I won’t say a word,” I vow flatly. “Excuse me.”

I push past them to speed-wash my hands, no birthday song in my head because I can’t possibly be in here that long without falling apart.

“Well, I guess it’s nice to meet you,” June tells Mollie, but I can feel the weight of her eyes on me. She’s probably worried I’m gonna expose her brother’s affair with a Moosette and ruin his stellar season.

“You, too,Junie. I’m sure we’ll get to know each other better after Dalton wins the playoffs and gets drafted to the majors. Maybe you and I can plan his signing party together?” Mollie uses a nickname for June with ease, like they’re new besties who’re probably gonna get matching mani-pedis later, and makes the party suggestion like it’s all a done deal.