String lights twinkle between the storefronts, already lit even though the sun hasn't fully set. The mountains loom in the distance, purple and white against the darkening sky, and the whole town looks incredible.
"This is my favorite time of night," I say casually, trying to break the silence.
Zoey walks beside me, supply list clutched in one hand, her jacket pulled tight against the chill. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"
It's all I can do to just look at her and nod.
Yeah. Just beautiful.
We keep walking as I shove my hands deep in my pockets, trying to look casual. Tryingnotto think about how close she was to me during that photo shoot. How warm she felt. How badly I wanted to pull her closer and never let go.
We pass Frost Café, and through the windows I can see Harold Frost behind the counter. I give him a look, checking my 'plan' for this afternoon is still in check. He winks at me and gives a thumbs up.
Zoey glances at me, her expression suddenly thoughtful.
"You're really good with Morgan, you know."
The comment catches me off guard. I shrug, deflecting on instinct. "Morgs? She's easy. Smart kid."
"Maybe." Her voice is softer now, curious. "But not everyone knows how to talk to kids. You just...do. Have you always been like that?"
I'm quiet for a moment, turning the question over in my head.
Have I?
"I was an only child." My voice comes out a little too casual. A little too light. "I always wanted a sibling, though. Brother, sister… didn't matter to me. Hell, I would've taken a dog just for a bit of company around the house."
I can feel her looking at me.
"Brothers aren't all they're cracked up to be, you know." She bumps her shoulder against mine. "You can have one of mine if you want. I've got three, and they're all big hockey goofs like you."
I laugh. "Hockey boys, huh? What are their names?"
"Mason, Declan, and Beck. The Morrison brothers." She rolls her eyes fondly. "They're across the country now, playing in the big league like you. But they still call me every Sunday to ask if I'm eating enough and whether I've met anyone nice."
I stop walking right in the middle of the sidewalk.
"Wait." I spin toward her and lock her gaze on mine. "Mason Morrison? Declan and Beck?TheMorrison brothers?"
Zoey blinks at me, confusion flickering across her face. "You know them?"
"Know them?!" I run a hand through my hair, grinning like an idiot. "I played against Declan in juniors. He's fuckingbadass. He checked me so hard once it was like he was warming me up for what Gabe just did to me."
Zoey rolls her eyes and laughs softly. "Sounds about right."
"Swear to God, I saw stars for a week. Separated my shoulder and everything. I couldn't lift my arm above my head for a month."
We start walking again, closer now. Our shoulders brush with every other step, and neither of us moves away.
"The Morrison Brothers," I murmur, smiling into the wind. "Small world."
"Smaller than you'd think." She tilts her head, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Hockey's like that though, isn't it? Everyone knows everyone."
"Pretty much. Six degrees of separation, except it's more like two degrees and a cross-check."
She laughs again, and the sound wraps around me.
"But growing up with three brothers who were addicted to hockey…" She shakes her head. "I was basically their second mom. Our parents worked constantly, so I was the one who made sure they ate vegetables and did their homework.Anddidn't kill each other."