A slow breath left my lungs. "Yeah," I admitted. "I really do."
Tannen nodded as though I'd confirmed something he'd already known. "You need to get out of Seattle."
The abrupt change in direction caught me off guard. "What?"
"You heard me."
I stared at him.
"I'm serious."
I leaned back against the stall and folded my arms. "We have three days off, not three months."
"Exactly." His gaze held mine. "You have three days before everybody starts asking questions again.”
When Tannen put it that way, the more appealing his suggestion became
"Take him somewhere people don't care who you are."
A humorless laugh escaped me. "I'm not sure a place like that exists."
"It does."
“Where?”
Tannen shrugged. "Winterhaven."
The name immediately made sense. His hometown sat tucked away in Vermont, far from NHL arenas and media scrums. Most people knew it existed only because somebody happened to be born there.
Then he added, "Or Juniper Hollow."
That made even more sense. Juniper Hollow wasn't just a dot on a map. It was familiar. Safe.
My parents had friends there. I'd spent time there growing up. If I wanted to disappear for a few days, it was probably the closest thing I had to a refuge.
Tannen stood and grabbed his bag. "You've got three days."
"You're awfully invested in this."
He slung the strap over one shoulder. "Maybe."
I narrowed my eyes.
"Or maybe I don't want to spend the next week listening to you complain about paparazzi while refusing to do anything about them."
"There he is."
"There who is?"
"My best friend."
That earned an eye roll.
As he headed toward the door, he paused long enough to glance back at me. "Take the guy somewhere he can actually enjoy Christmas with you."
Then he left.
The locker room fell quiet again. For several moments, I remained where I was, staring at the empty doorway.
