Page 75 of Locke

The simplicity of the question hits an unguarded cavern in my heart.

“Yes,” I say confidently.“Genuinely, yes.Which is its own problem, honestly.It would be easier if he weren’t.”

She nods like she understands completely.She probably does.“How does this end?”she asks.

“I don’t know,” I say.And it’s the truest thing I’ve said all morning.

Juno looks at me then she does the thing I didn’t know I needed, which is not to say anything wise or cautionary or particularly helpful.She nods once… with confidence.“You’re a smart woman.You’re a good woman.You’ll figure it out just fine.”

And she says it with such surety, I almost believe it.

“Do you want to get some coffee?I found a place here in the east wing that does a decent Americano.”

“That’s called the Blue Line,” I say with a laugh as I rise from my chair.

“But it’s all the way over here in the east wing, so it’s like we’ve traveled somewhere for a decent cup of coffee,” Juno says with a waggle of her eyebrows.

The transition back to friendship banter is just what I need, and I manage to push my worries aside for a little bit.

Chapter 23

Locke

Thelunchrushisgone and the dinner hour isn’t even close, so the Blue Line is quiet, only a handful of staff and a few players who’ve finished their afternoon workouts and haven’t yet found a reason to be anywhere else.I had an extended rehab session for a sore elbow, and now I’m starved since I missed lunch.I order at the counter, take my food to a table in the back corner by the window, and spend approximately twenty minutes not thinking about anything more complicated than how good my turkey club is.

I’m halfway through it when I see Van.

He comes through the side entrance in a jacket and street clothes and scans the room.His eyes land on me briefly and he nods.

I lift my chin back at him, which is an invitation of sorts, I guess.Meaning… I’m actually okay if he wants to come sit with me and… converse?Yeah.It’s cool.

Three minutes later, he’s at my table with a tray in hand and I push the chair across from me out with one foot.

He settles in and removes his plate and silverware from the tray.“How’s the elbow?”

I extend it.“Right as rain.How’s the chicken?”I ask, nodding down at his plate.

He cuts a bite and puts it in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully.“Fucking delicious,” he says with a grin, and I can’t help but laugh.

I’ve always given Van more than I give most people.Not a lot more, but there’s something about the man that makes hostility feel like overkill, and with me that’s not a low bar.

I know the outline of his story and maybe that’s why I feel more of a connection with Van because I know enough about punishing people who didn’t deserve it.He’s never said a word about any of it to me and I’ve never asked, and that arrangement suits us both perfectly.

“Good game Wednesday,” he says without looking up from his food.

“We needed the two points.”

“You needed the two points.Your line has been the difference-maker the last three games.You and Rome, and we’re going to need that tomorrow night against Quebec.”

“You’ll get it,” I say with confidence.

“I’m not blowing smoke.”He glances up.“I don’t do that.”

“I know you don’t.”

He sets his utensils beside his plate.“Penalty minutes are down too.”

“I’m aware,” I say, wiping my mouth with my napkin.