Page 54 of Home of the Brave

“Yes.” It wasn’t a lie. That was all that happened. Last night.

“You’re not telling me everything.”

That was correct. She had me, and we both knew it. Before this assignment, Cambrie and I had been friendly, but not necessarily friends. I wasn’t sure how much I should, or could, tell her. I’d been burned before by trusting the wrong colleague.

Plus, Josh and I had only talked. In public. It wasn’t like we’d done anything wrong or salacious.

I also really wanted to talk about it with someone. Was it as weird as I was making it out to be? Did he simply forgive me and had extended an olive branch? Could his spotting me, coming up to me, and sitting with me mean something more?

“Off the record,” she finally broke my awkward silence. “I promise nothing you say will be repeated.”

I quirked my lips. "Written or verbal.”

She grinned. “No hand signals or miming either.”

I sighed. “Okay, things last night were fine. I know those guys pretty well, so it was fun to catch up, and since Josh doesn’t hate me anymore, he opened up too.”

She bit her bottom lip as her smile grew. “And?”

“And this morning I was watching the women’s practice, and he came and sat down next to me.”

“And?” she repeated, leaning in.

“And we just talked. He asked me about playing and the injury that changed my career path.”

“So work talk?” She seemed disappointed as she went back to her sandwich.

“Yeah.” Now that she said it like that, it was a rather professional conversation. An interview where we both offered a look behind our walls, but stayed within the safety of hockey.

Maybe it hadn’t meant anything after all.

“Well, I’m glad he doesn’t hate you anymore,” she said after another bite.

“Yeah, me too.”

“So last night, my friend and I went to this heavenly French spot. I didn’t even know something so good could exist––”

She went on about how great the food was, while I tried to dismantle the hope one stupid conversation caused.

Hope of what?

We lived on opposite sides of the country. Our jobs kept us incredibly busy, with little to no flexibility. We didn’t even have a say in where or when we were. The only difference was that his schedule was set every summer for the next season, and I had very little notice day by day.

Sure, he was incredibly handsome, and I felt. . . special that he sought me out and talked with me. He was on the quiet side, even with his friends, but he chose to come to me.

That didn’t necessarily mean anything other than he saw me and had time to burn before practice.

“So I agreed to meet up again before we leave,” Cambrie finished.

“That’s great.” I smiled and hoped it was the right response.

“You guys have to see this!” Scott from In The Net called to the room before turning and running out toward the rink.

We stood and hurried out with the mass of other reporters. I stopped against the glass of the press box and covered my mouth before I let a burst of laughter slip out.

Most of the Stars players were on the ice, warming up before practice officially started, which wasn’t unusual at all.

What stood out was Hartman still in his warm-up sweats running around.