Page 43 of Julian

“Okay, but Tanner’s sequence in the third—” Dylan leans forward between the seats as far as his seat belt will allow, which is farther than I’d like. “When he drew the penalty and then came out of the box and immediately set up Grizz for the power play goal—that was designed. That wasn’t accidental.”

“It wasn’t accidental,” Julian confirms, and I can hear the genuine pleasure in his voice at being met with someone who actually wants to dissect this. “Tanner reads the ice differently than most wingers. He’s thinking two sequences ahead while everyone else is thinking one.”

“He baited that defenseman,” Dylan says. “The Eagles’ number seven. He baited him into the interference call on purpose.”

“Completely on purpose,” Julian says. “Tanner has been doing that since his second season. He knows exactly how much contact he can absorb before the ref has to make the call. He’s a super smart guy.”

“It should show up in the stats,” Dylan says immediately. “Someone should be tracking that. Drawn penalties per game, per situation, per opponent. You could build a whole model around it.”

A brief pause from the passenger seat.

“How old are you?” Julian asks.

“Seventeen.”

“Right.” Another pause. “Have you ever considered sports analytics as a career?”

I keep my eyes on the road and say nothing.

“I’m not sure what I want to do yet. Harper says I should be a lawyer because I argue for sport. She means it as a complaint, but I take it as a compliment.”

“As you should,” Julian says with a chuckle, and I can’t help but smile.

“She also says I’m exhausting.”

“I’m right here,” I say blandly.

Neither of them acknowledges this and they continue to chatter the entire way to Julian’s townhome. Dylan is riding the high of it, talking in bursts—about plays and Grizz and Tanner, about things I barely caught but he somehow catalogued in perfect detail. I smile when I should and respond when it makes sense, but my mind drifts in and out, still caught somewhere between the suite and the way Julian looked at me.

We pull up outside Julian’s building, the night colder now. He opens the door and steps out of the car, before turning around and leaning back in to look at my brother. “It was nice meeting you, Dylan. I enjoyed the game talk on the way home.”

“Thank you, Mr. Langley. This is one of the best nights of my life.”

My eyes mist a little over the unfettered joy I hear from my brother. We can’t afford a lot of fun things, so he’s being genuine when he says this is at the top of his best memories.

“You’re very welcome. And I left you something there in that box beside you.”

I turn around in my seat, surprised that Julian would offer another present, and I watch as Dylan opens a brown box sitting beside him that I hadn’t noticed before.

“Oh, wow,” Dylan exclaims and holds it up for me to see. It’s an entire box of the eclairs they were serving at the game, which look much better than the squished one in my purse. “Thank you!”

“You’re very welcome. Share some with your sister.”

“Yes, sir,” he says.

Julian’s eyes come to mine. “Good night, Harper.”

“Good night, Julian,” I say, my heart racing a tiny bit, not just from the thoughtfulness of the gift but from the way he’s looking at me right now.

As if he did that for me as much as he did for Dylan.

Julian winks, then disappears into his home before I can even thank him.

Chapter 12

Julian

Isit behind my desk at home, the room arranged in the same manner it has been maintained for years, unchanged not out of habit but by design.