Page 66 of The Puck Bunny

“Keep the change.”

Sara’s eyes widen and she smiles.

I shrug.

“Then it’s agreed,” Sheila says. “The ceremony will be at city hall where Mindy lives.”

“No parents,” Jonas says. “We keep this small and quiet.”

“Fine. But we’re going to have to tell our families afterward,” Mindy says.

“Sure.”

“Where do you live?” Sara asks, typing into her phone calendar. “Boston?”

“No,” Mindy and Sheila both say and laugh. “We live in Revere.”

“That’s where I live,” I say. That’s a convenient coincidence—but then I glance at Sara.

She’s turned white and has let go of her phone.

She’s worried about this charade being so close to home.

I squeeze her hand, and she turns to me. I smile and she relaxes. I’d love to take her into my arms, but let go of her hand instead. We don’t need any scrutiny. The team is going to get enough publicity once Jonas and Mindy’s story gets out.

“Great,” Sara says without admitting she lives in Revere, too. “I have to go now.”

“Don’t let us keep you,” Jonas says and this time I don’t hold back at all as I kick his shin good and hard under the table.

“Fuck. That hurt,” he says, reaching down to rub his leg.

In truth, I’m lucky he doesn’t kick me back. Except he knows he’s wrong to be rude to Sara.

She stands and smiles warmly at everyone, making my chest tighten and an empty feeling pangs in my gut at her leaving.

“I need to go, too,” I say and stand. Every one of them nods and smiles with that look that says they know my secret. Hell, they probably do.

I wish I knew what it was that makes me want to follow Sara when I shouldn’t.

Outside, she turns when I push through the door and join her on the sidewalk.

“Can I get you a ride?” I ask.

“Déjà vu much?” She laughs. “I don’t think I can afford to re-live the experience.”

I stare at her, then shove my hands in my pockets and move closer. “I have my car this time. No strings. No need for you to take the train this late at night.”

“You realize I do it all the time, right?”

“Then consider this a treat. Come on.” I put a hand on the small of her back and walk with her, holding onto her warmth as we head back to the Garden’s parking garage. We don’t talk, maybe because the crackle in the air between us is too loud.

As we reach the private entrance where staff and players park, she finally speaks. “I always wondered where this door went.”

“You don’t park here?”

She laughs. “I’m not high up enough on the corporate ladder for a parking space. Correct that—I’m not even on the ladder.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. Delaney seems to rely on you. I’ve seen the IG and other social media. You do a great job making me look like a saint.”