I don’t know why I’m crying. I’m not sobbing or anything, but from the moment I jumped on the trolley and left him on the sidewalk, tears kept randomly slipping from my eyeballs. It’s ridiculous. I knew exactly what was going to happen. Sure, I didn’t expect it to happen this soon, but it was going to happen. I’ve only spent thirty-six hours with him, technically only the last twelve in the relationship zone, and yet I feel heartbroken. I broke up with my college boyfriend of a year and a half with less ache in my chest. Seriously, I’m insane. It’s probably a great thing it ended before it began because I was way too invested, clearly.

The tears stop before I get to the office, thankfully. Not that anyone will be there besides the security team, but still. I flash my pass at the guard sitting behind the large marble desk in the lobby. He hits a button and the door buzzes and I pull it open. “Working on a Sunday, huh?”

“Hockey never sleeps,” I quip and smile, but it feels forced. He doesn’t care and neither do I. He just nods as I make my way to the elevator bank.

I’m a selfish idiot for being this depressed. It’s very hard to even get drafted in the NHL. I remember when Jude was in high school he told me like 0.16 percent of all teenagers who play hockey would actually make it to the NHL. And now Elijah Casco is one of them. This is amazing. It’s incredible. But it still hurts like hell.

Last night was the biggest mistake of my life. I let him lull me into this false sense of confidence that we could somehow keep this going. Ugh. I knew better, but I let it happen anyway. Because I’ve never felt such a strong connection to someone before.

I push open the glass door that leads to my department and make my way over to my desk. It’s not as weird as I thought it would be, being here all by myself. It’s actually kind of calming. I’m glad I opted to come in rather than work on this at home. I could have done it on my laptop, but I needed to get out of there. Even if I had somehow convinced Eli to go without leaving myself, the whole apartment smelled like him and everything in the place was a memory of our thirty-six-hour lovefest. I had to get away from that.

I drop into my chair and start up my computer. Forty minutes later I’ve drafted the press release and sorted through the interview requests that have already come in and listed them in order of priority. I send my draft to Ann for a quick once-over, and as I wait for her response I pull out my phone and find myself looking at the last half-naked selfie Eli sent me back when he was in Sacramento. It was hard to have these pictures in my memory and remain professional when I saw him at the event this weekend. How the hell am I going to do that now that he actually means something to me?

My phone buzzes in my hand, startling me so badly I almost drop it. Fumbling, I see Jude’s name and number pop up on my screen. I hit Answer. “Hey, Jude.”

“What’s wrong?” he asks instantly. “You didn’t sing that. You always—annoyingly—sing my name when you put a ‘hey’ in front of it.”

“Nothing is wrong. I’m just busy. Working,” I explain and swivel my chair around so I’m facing the window. The sun is filtering in and it warms my skin. I hadn’t realized I was chilled, but I guess I am because it feels damn good. God, I wish I were on a beach somewhere. “I’m writing up the press releases about Noah’s injury and Eli being called up permanently.”

“They assigned that to you? I thought your boss handled the big announcements,” he says.

“She wants me to handle this one,” I explain.

“That’s as good as a promotion,” Jude says proudly. I smile. It’s nice to have a brother who is so supportive. Honestly, he could have made this a nightmare for me because it’s his team and his sport, but he’s done everything possible to make it a positive experience, including lying about being my sibling.

“Let’s hope so,” I reply vaguely, because I can’t spill Ann’s news. “So why are you calling from the road? I know it’s not the usual reasons, like some puck bunny put your dick on the internet.”

He huffs his frustration into the phone. “For fuck’s sake, Dixie, that happened once. Let it go.”

I laugh lightly and he huffs again. “Have you checked in on everyone yet? I want to know how the first day in the new place is going. I would bug Zoey to head over there and check on them, but it’s her day off, and I just want her to rest and take care of my boy.”

“Girl,” I correct him, even though I have no idea, but it’s too much fun to annoy him. “I will go over there when I’m done here. I’ll text you with intel. I’m sure they’re doing fine.”

I’m hoping that some alone time with my family will get my mind off Eli.

“I texted Sadie last night, and she said Dad went to bed early because he’s getting a cold,” Jude says. “If they need a doctor, I’ve had all his records transferred to one our team doctor suggested who is supposed to be the best neurologist in the city. Mom has her name and number.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about,” I say, trying to calm him down. The one downside to having Dad here is that Jude is going to make himself even sicker than he already does with worry. “But email me the contact info too.”

“Will do.” Jude pauses and then adds, almost reluctantly, “Is it too much to ask you to check on Zoey too? I just worry being so far away. But don’t tell her I sent you. She’ll hate that.”

The ache in my heart over Eli is temporarily replaced by a warm, fuzzy feeling over my brother, the manwhore-turned-lovesick-about-to-be-dad. “Don’t worry, Zoey will never know.”

“Thanks,” he says gratefully. “You’re my favorite youngest sister.”

I laugh. “I love you, Jude.” I never say that to him. Like hardly ever, but I’m feeling weak and vulnerable.

“Love you too, Dix.”

I end the call and am turning around to check my open inbox on my computer to see if Ann has responded when something catches my eye. Trish is standing by the door staring at me. I’m so startled I jump and nearly fall off my chair. Gripping my desk with one hand and my chest with the other, I gasp. “Hey! Jesus, I had no idea you were here.”

“And I had no idea you’d be here,” she replies with a big smile as she walks toward her own desk.

“What are you doing in on a Sunday?” I ask.

“I heard about Noah and that they’re bringing up Elijah Casco, and I wanted to get a jump on the press box requests,” she explains. “You know it’s going to be through the roof for the first home game.”

I nod. Right. Trish is in charge of assigning press box seats.

“I take my job very seriously,” she adds.

Okay, that was a weird declaration. I try not to frown. “I’m here helping Ann with the press release.”

I feel like I need to explain that to her so she knows I take my job seriously too and I’m not just here stealing staplers or something. She smiles her typical smile that is so big it looks fake. “That’s great.”

She gives me one last smile and turns to her computer.

I wish I knew why I find it so hard to hang out with her. I try not to sigh as I check my email. Ann responded that my release is good to go, so I spend the next fifteen minutes uploading it to the press section of our website, then grab my bag and stand up. “See you tomorrow, Trish. Don’t work too hard.”

She smiles. “Yeah. You have a great night, Dixie.”

I wave, overenthusiastically like she would to me, and I’m out the door before she can respond.

Sadie buzzes me into my parents’ new place, and as soon as I walk in the front door my mom hands me a key. “Use this whenever. Also, we have a pull-out couch in the living room, and we can put another bed in Sadie’s room if you’d like.”

“Make it Winnie’s room!” Sadie calls out, wandering down the hall toward the kitchen.

“I don’t need a bed. The pull-out is fine,” I promise and hug my mom, taking the key and slipping it onto my key ring. “I probably won’t spend the night anyway.”

“Is that Little D?” I hear my dad call out. I smile. The older I got, the more I disliked the nickname for a multitude of reasons, including the fact that I really was the littlest in the family, in age and height and weight, and also because it felt like it kept me in the baby zone and no one would ever think of me as an adult. I never told him that and now I never will. He can call me whatever he wants. I’m just grateful I still get to hear the sound of his voice.

I follow the sound down the hall to the den, where he’s watching hockey on the biggest TV I’ve ever seen. Jude must have bought that, because their TV in the family room in the Toronto house was half this size. This TV is even bigger than Jude’s.

He’s in his wheelchair with his feet up on the tufted ottoman coffee table in front of him. He’s got a mahogany TV tray next to him that I recognize from my childhood, with a big green smoothie beside him. I smile. My dad would never be drinking that if he weren’t sick. Now he lets Jude talk him into all kinds of weird health foods, and he doesn’t complain at all. I throw myself dramatically on the couch to his left, sprawling out across it. He smiles. “What have you been up to today that has you so wiped out?”

“Just work,” I explain. “They asked me to write the press release for Elijah Casco’s call-up, and the press requests are blowing up my inbox.”

I see the pride in my dad’s face I heard in Jude’s voice and it makes me smile. “My Little D is a PR rock star,” he says and winks. “I bet the Thunder needs you even more than they need Jude.”

I laugh. “Please tell Jude that. And make sure I’m there and my camera is ready to catch his reaction.”

Dad chuckles at that, his blue eyes glancing back to the screen. He lifts his right hand and points at the game. I look over. I think it’s Brooklyn versus Seattle. “These games get so much hype, the Barons versus the Winterhawks, because the Garrison brothers play each other. I assume the hype about Eli and Levi being on the same team is just as big.”

“It is.” I nod and take a deep breath. “It’s a lot of pressure for Elijah.”

“Levi is tough. I haven’t met the kid brother yet, but if he can bounce back from that neck injury, he’s got to be tough too,” my dad says.

“He’s not quite the player he was before the injury,” I reply softly because I hate admitting it. It’s like his struggles are mine. “Not yet.”

“He got back in that net after an injury that could have cost him his life,” my dad says, his voice serious. “That alone makes him a tougher player than half the guys out there.”

I smile and file that nugget of wisdom away in my brain to tell Elijah later if he needs a pep talk. Maybe I can give it to Jude to tell him, because I probably shouldn’t be giving Eli pep talks, or talking to him at all unless it’s work related, now.

Dad coughs. It’s deep and wet. I sit up in concern as Sadie wanders into the room, eating a bowl of cereal in her pajamas. Our eyes meet as the last of Dad’s cough rattles out of him. Sadie chomps quickly and swallows down a mouthful of Cinnamon Toast Crunch. “Daddy, is the cough getting worse?”

“I don’t think so,” he replies, eyes focused back on the game on the TV. “Jesus, that Deveau kid is a hell of a defenseman.”

Sadie looks back at me. “I think we’re going to swing by the doctor tomorrow, Dad. Just in case.”

He sighs loudly but doesn’t argue. I know he loathes doctors, and he’s had them up in his face for over two years now. I lean forward and drop my hand over his. “Humor us, Dad.”

He grimaces. “Fine.”

Sadie swallows the last of her cereal and then yawns before tipping the bowl to drink the remaining milk. “Are you just waking up?” I ask.

She nods. “I woke up when you buzzed. Winnie’s still asleep. We went to a wine bar last night to celebrate the move. We called you to join, but you didn’t answer.”

Right. I didn’t.

“Figured you were with the boy again,” Sadie says right in front of Dad.

He pulls his eyes from the game and looks at me with a smile. “There’s a boy?”

I groan and throw Sadie a vicious glare before turning to my dad. “No boy.”

“Sadie doesn’t lie, Little D, and so if she says there’s a boy…” He lets his sentence fade, and when I just shake my head no, he continues, “What are you embarrassed to tell me? Why? You don’t think I’ll approve? Is he like my age or something?”

“Ha!” I squawk and grin. “God no.”

“Good. Guys my age that hit on girls your age are all pervs,” my dad announces, and I can’t stop cringing inwardly over the slight slur to his words. “So why won’t you tell me about him?”

“Because it’s not anything,” I promise. “It was over before it began.”

My dad seems to ponder that a moment, and then he gives me a wistful smile. “Okay, Dixie, if you say so. But I worry about you. You work so hard, but there’s more to life than the office, honey.”

“I know,” I say. “But I’m focusing on my career right now. Besides, women have to work twice as hard as men to move up the corporate ladder just as fast.”

“Just don’t forget to enjoy life, Little D.” He pats my hand and goes back to watching the game. I stand up and stretch, leaving my bag on the couch. “I’m going to grab some of that cereal Sadie has.”

As I walk out of the room, I grab my sister by the arm and drag her out with me. Before I can even yell at her, Sadie says, “I’m sorry! I’m a little hung over. I wasn’t thinking. I shouldn’t have brought him up in front of Dad.”

“What if he brings up the mystery boy in front of Jude?” I snap and tuck my hair behind my ears as we enter the kitchen. “Jude won’t let it go until he figures out who it is.”

“Don’t worry, Dad knows better than to say something in front of Jude,” Sadie says and goes over to the sink to rinse her bowl. “You know he just wants to feel like you’ve got someone to take care of you.”

“Jesus, what is this, 1842?” I gripe and open the cabinets, looking for a bowl and cereal since I have no idea where anything is in this house. “I can take care of me. He doesn’t hound you like that about men.”

“I’m not his Little D,” Sadie responds, and when I turn to glare at her again she laughs. “Dix, you are his baby. And you were a sick baby. He’s always going to want to have someone looking out for you. Deal.”

“I wasn’t sick. I was a preemie.” I always have to correct everyone in the family. “I just needed more time to cook.”

“The preemie thing had them coddling you to begin with, but then you had to turn out the most like Jude, who he adores.” Sadie rolls her eyes in jest.

“I’m nothing like Jude.”

She laughs. “You two not only look alike, you’re both insanely driven, unbelievably hardheaded and could tie for gold in the sarcasm Olympics.”

Sick of watching me hunt for the bowls, she turns and opens a cabinet next to the sink and hands me one. Then she points to what looks like a door to another room. “Pantry. Walk-in.”

I walk over and open it. Wow, it’s already fully stocked. I grab the Lucky Charms instead of the Cinnamon Toast Crunch and pour a heaping bowl full. When I step out of the pantry Sadie already has the milk in her hand. “So, were you with the goalie last night or what?”

“Shh!” I command and sigh before taking a mouthful of cereal. “Yes. I was. But I won’t be again. They called him up.”

“Already? Really?” She looks appalled. It’s kind of hysterical. “Did you at least get to orgasm again?”

“Yes. Four times.” I chew and swallow another spoonful of cereal. “Four glorious times.”

Sadie looks skeptical. “And now you’re both going to walk away? From all those free and easy orgasms. Just like that?”

“Yup,” I reply flatly. “He needs to focus on his career, and I need to work on getting the promotion.”

“Okay,” Sadie says slowly, running a hand through her tangled bedhead. “I trust you know what’s best for you, Dix. I guess.”

“Thanks,” I reply and finish my cereal. I glance at my watch. It’s almost three in the afternoon. I should get going and check on Zoey. I rinse my bowl and hand it to Sadie, because Jude or whoever designed this kitchen gave the dishwasher a front panel that matches the cabinets, and I’m not about to hunt around to try to figure out where it is.

“And even if you’re as big an idiot as Jude, he eventually figured it out, and you will too,” Sadie adds as she pulls down the dishwasher door next to the sink. “Or die alone with a lot of cats.”

“I’m allergic to cats,” I remind her.

“Then let’s hope you figure it out.”

I flip her the bird over my shoulder as I walk out of the kitchen. I head back into the den, grab my purse off the couch next to where my mom is now sitting and kiss my dad on the cheek. “I’ll be back for dinner. I’m just heading over to see Zoey.”

“Invite her too, baby,” my mom says. “I made a giant lasagna. Just need to pop it in the oven.”

“I’ll invite her,” I promise.

“Oh, and your phone rang. A Bieber tune,” my dad tells me, and I want to laugh at the fact he knows what a Justin Bieber song sounds like, but that ringtone is just for Elijah.

“Thanks,” I say and head down the hall and out the door. As I wait for the elevator I look at my phone. Sure enough I have one missed call from Eli. My heart flutters and aches at the same time, especially when I see he left a voicemail.

The whole ride down in the elevator I vacillate on whether I should listen to the message. But I can’t not. So as I step outside I hit the button to listen to my voicemail.

“Hey.” His voice is low and extra scratchy and deep, and hearing it makes me feel good. “I’m in Vancouver. I have a flight to Quebec City in half an hour. I’d say call me back but I know you won’t. I get it. I don’t even know why I’m calling except to let you know it’s going to be hard to pretend I don’t think you’re the most incredibly sexy and amazing woman out there. You’ve left one hell of an impression on me, sweet Dixie, even if I’m not allowed to act like it. See you in a few days when we get back from the road trip.”

I’m filled with such a light, airy happiness I feel like I could float. It’s the worst possible reaction because we’re still doomed. Our flame was extinguished before it even got to glow. But damn, I can still feel its warmth, and it’s nice to know he can too.