Page 27 of Conrad

How hadhe gone from a superstar to the tagalong?

One minute, Conrad had been congratulating himself for not melting down in front of a group of hero-worshipping teenagers . . . the next, She Who Would Not Text Him had replaced him.

At least, that’s what it felt like as he watched Penelope and Lucas walk out of the building, chatting like a couple.

What. ever.

Wow, had he pegged that wrong. And worse, he’d made a royal fool out of himself, acting like he might be her hero.

He wanted to floor it back to Minneapolis instead of following Simon and the other team members to Lakeside Pizza Company, on the shores of Duck Lake.

“Just go,” said the voice on the other end of the phone, a.k.a. his sister Austen, the One Who Knew. Because she’d been there that night when his panic attacks had started.

Seagulls cried in the air on her end, so she probably sat at dock in her trawler-slash-live-aboard boat.

He slowed, driving through Duck Lake to the west end, where Lakeside Pizza Company sat on the edge of the namesake lake. Light puddled on the streets, cleared of snow and rubble that had been dumped into the municipal parking lot for now. A few shops remained open—Duck Lake Market, Sip and Paint, and the Lumberjack’s Table, a couple neon signs glowing in the bar-side extension.

He should really swing by and see his parents out at the King’s Inn, but then there would be questions and maybe some dodging of the truth, and he hated secrets. Hated lying.

Hated his stupid mistakes.

“The more you show up, the easier it will get,” Austen said through the speaker in his car.

And of course, she was referring to practice and the fact that he’d made it through without the world closing in on him. Without even having to find a small quiet place and breathe.

As if his nightmares hadn’t begun on this very ice so many years ago. Fifteen, to be exact.

“It’s just through next weekend; then I’m out.”

“But you had fun, right?”

Fun. Maybe.“I don’t know. Simon’s doing a good job. I showed up and helped him with some drills, taught them some shooting techniques.”

“You represent everything they can be. Everything they dream about. It doesn’t hurt to give them a piece of yourself. You have a lot to give.”

Funny, it felt like the kids had given tohim, at least for that brief hour of practice. He’d found pieces of himself he’d forgotten as he’d taken shots on goal against Simon.

“Well, at the very least, I didn’t throw up on them.”

She laughed. “That’s always a win. Maybe it was all those visualization exercises you did over the past four days.”

He heard rain pinging on the other end of the line. “Where are you?”

“On theFancy Free. There’s a little squall moving in.”

“Please tell me you’re at a dock.”

“Yes. Calm down. But tomorrow’s my day off. I’m heading out to a dive—serious treasure debris about sixty feet down. We’ll see.”

A clunk—maybe she was filling tanks.

He turned onto the drive toward Lakeside Pizza ahead.

“So, was he there?”

A beat.

“Jeremy.”

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