Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 136559 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 683(@200wpm)___ 546(@250wpm)___ 455(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136559 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 683(@200wpm)___ 546(@250wpm)___ 455(@300wpm)
Best to focus on the present then, and this moment since that’s all I can have. “Anyway, we’ll see what comes of the whole co-captain thing.”
“I’m rooting for you,” she says.
“Thanks. Here’s hoping for a good training camp and a good year. It’s an honor that I’m being considered.”
“I’m not surprised you’re being considered,” she says, in a cheery tone, a supportive tone, and I wish I could read her more easily. I wish I could read her like I could the day I spent with her.
Since then, she’s gotten better at holding back. I try once again to focus on this whole friendship thing. “Turns out, my brother was traded here too. Haven’t played with him in a long time. Feels a little surreal. But it’ll be interesting.”
“To play with him instead of against him?” she asks, getting it completely.
“Exactly. He’s been the enemy for ages.”
“You know what they say in hockey—keep your teammates close, and your family on the bench beside you where you can keep an eye on their every move.”
I laugh. “Exactly. Gives new meaning to my brother’s keeper.” I pause, scratch my jaw then add, “You think you got some good pictures tonight?” I just don’t want to stop talking to her. She’s not making a move toward the door, so I hope she’s feeling the same damn way.
“I do. I think I might make Asher and Maeve a surprise photo album or something. Or frame some of them.”
“Can I see them?”
She looks around at the servers cleaning up at the nearly empty coffee shop, sensing they probably do want to close this place down. “I can show you outside,” she offers.
I should probably keep my distance, but when the woman you can’t have—the woman who’s lodged front and center in your brain—offers to spend more time with you, you don’t say no.
“Let’s go,” I say.
“Let me grab my things.” She snags a box of chocolate from the counter, then a second box, dropping them into her bag, then we leave.
But it’s crowded outside in Hayes Valley, with people pushing past us along the sidewalk.
It’s a warm summer night, the kind that feels like it shouldn’t end too soon. I don’t feel like looking at her camera out on the street, so I nod to a bar at the corner. “You want to just duck in there?”
I have no earthly reason to want to look at photos of Asher’s and Maeve’s wedding party. But when Leighton says yes, I feel like I’ve won a game I barely realized I was playing.
And I do like winning.
I walk, fast and determined, toward the bar with her.
15
THINGS HAPPEN
Miles
A shot of the newlyweds dancing, Maeve’s head tipped back as she laughs. A photo of Max whispering something in Everly’s ear, her expression…serene. An image of Wesley standing behind Josie, his arms wrapped around her, amusement in her eyes. Pictures of Asher’s dads sharing a slice of cake. Maeve’s brother lifting a glass to toast.
“These are great,” I say, admiring the way Leighton captures a moment in time, each one rich with emotion and connection.
And then there’s a shot of me, elbows resting against the counter, looking pensive as I survey the scene. Alone, but watching. I try to place when it was taken, but I’m not sure.
“I don’t know what I was looking at,” I say, trying but failing to remember that moment. Mostly it feels like…the whole night. There’s a glass in my hand in the photo, and I’m just…watching.
“As a photographer, I’m more interested in what you were thinking,” she says, studying the viewfinder on her camera with the shot of me on it.
“What’s your take then? What was I thinking?” I ask, turning the question back on her, here in this corner of the bar.
We’re at The Spotted Zebra, tucked into a small booth in the back. The lights are low here, the vibe very much after dark, the music a little sultry. It might not have been the wisest choice for resisting, but the more I fall into Leighton’s orbit, the less I’m thinking rationally.
She has that effect on my brain—she makes everything warm and hazy.
She studies the picture a little more, then looks at me next to her. Her gaze on me right here, right now, tightens the pressure in my chest. She looks back at the photo. I’m wearing my glasses, like I am now, with a faraway look in my eyes. “I think you’re wondering,” she begins, her tone thoughtful, “what’s next for you. Where do you go from here? Will you live up to the captain job? And what will it cost?”
Talk about a mind reader.
“You got all that from a photo?” I ask, but she’s shockingly right. Those thoughts all ran through my mind.
“Yes, but in all fairness, I was looking for it too. I wanted to remember that moment in time. So I was trying to find your thoughts on your face and capture them in the picture. When I was taking it, I knew what to look for—the idea that you had a lot on your mind.”