Page 55 of Take Two

“The one that says you’ve already started decorating in your head. You look zoned out. Almost constipated.”

She laughs, bright and genuine, then narrows her eyes at me, and slowly turns back toward the room.

“I’ll let you have that one, Jamie, but I’m envisioning it.” She taps her chin as she circles the space in a wide, unhurried loop.

I lean against the wall and watch her picture the future inside an empty shell of concrete and brick.

It’s strange. A few months ago, my family lived three thousand miles away from me. Now my sister is standing in the middle of a shop she is preparing to make her own, my parents have started calling Seattle home without any prompting, and somehow the city I’ve played hockey in for four years feels fundamentally different beneath all of it. Something close to what I think home is supposed to feel like, more permanent, mine.

“Jamie.”

This time I look up immediately. “Hmm?”

“You’ve disappeared again,” Taz says, snapping her fingers twice.

I open my mouth to say something in my own defense, but before I can get there, my phone rings in my hand. The estate agent reappears from the back corridor at almost the same moment, stepping into the main room with a bright, professional smile and turning her attention toward Tazja with a question about whether they’d like to proceed. I catch Tazja’s eye and give her a small nod before excusing myself and slipping out through the front door, letting it close quietly behind me.

The afternoon air is warm and carries the particular smell of a city street in summer, coffee from somewhere nearby, exhaust, a trace of cut grass from the small park half a block away. The sidewalk is busy with the usual midday crowd, people weaving between storefronts and boutique doorways and each other without much ceremony. I answer the call before it can ring a second time.

“Hey, Marcus.”

“Tell me I’m not interrupting.”

I glance back through the front window. Tazja has already moved toward the rear of the unit with the estate agent, the two of them deep in conversation while Tazja points at the wall with the kind of focused authority that means she has already decided exactly what is going to happen to it.

“You’re good,” I say. “Just looking at commercial space with my sister.”

“The shop. Right, of course.” His tone carries genuine warmth whenever Tazja comes up, a specific warmth that I have noticed before and chosen not to examine too closely. The man is completely gone for her and she doesn’t know he exists. As her older brother, I am entirely at peace with this arrangement continuing indefinitely.

“Yeah,” I say, keeping my voice carefully neutral. “I think she finally found the right place.”

“That’s great to hear.” He pauses just briefly enough to signal that the pleasantries are wrapping up. His voice carries that particular easy confidence that usually means he is working his way toward the actual reason he called. Marcus has always been good at this, making the arrival feel natural rather than abrupt.

“I wanted to check in,” he says. “Things have gotten a little louder on the social media side this week.”

I lean back against the brick wall of the building and watch traffic move through the intersection in front of me.

“I figured they would,” I reply, shaking my head slowly. It is getting to the point where I can’t take an unplanned walk without it becoming a headline within hours. My private life has somehow become publicly owned news and I don’t entirely know when I agreed to that.

“That walk through Kerry Park didn’t stay quiet for long.”

I laugh under my breath, though there isn’t much humor in it.

“No, it didn’t. We were just walking.” The frustration bleeds into my voice more than I intend. Though at least Cameron had been with us. Small mercies.

“The photos have been everywhere. People were already paying attention after the earlier sightings, but those images specifically have everyone talking. Every entertainment outlet seems to have landed on the same conclusion about what’s going on between you and Cyaire Reed.”

“They’re not wrong,” I say evenly. “But Marcus, it’s none of their business.”

He lets out a brief laugh at the sharpness in my tone. “No, it isn’t,” he agrees. “It shouldn’t matter what two consenting adults do with their own time. I just want you to have a heads-up. Reporters are already starting to reach out, and I wouldn’t be surprised if a few of them start positioning themselves around the rink once training camp gets closer.”

I watch a bus pull away from the curb across the street, the hydraulic hiss of its doors carry over the general noise of the afternoon.

“I appreciate the warning.”

“I know you’ve always valued your privacy, Jamie. Dating someone as publicly recognizable as Cyaire shifts the landscape in ways that can be hard to anticipate until they’re already happening. I’m not telling you to hide anything. I just don’t want any of this catching you off guard when the season ramps back up.”

“I get it,” I answer honestly, though I wouldn’t say we are dating. Nope. Denial is indeed a river and Cyaire and I are sailing blindly down it.