Page 174 of Playing With Fire

And for the first time since I moved in, the apartment feels too quiet.

The Phoenixes lose in Winnipeg.

Then Edmonton.

Our texts are careful at first.

Ken: Don’t say it.

Me: I haven’t said anything.

Ken: I can feel you thinking.

Me: That’s concerning from several hundred miles away.

Ken: We played like shit.

Me: You had two assists.

Ken: Still lost.

Me: Captain complex.

Ken: Brat.

He calls me that night.

Just Bishop’s voice in my ear while I lie in bed with Darcy pressed against my feet and Chicago rain tapping softly against the windows.

We talk for forty-three minutes. I know because I check after we hang up.

Seattle is a win.

The photo Bishop sends of the Space Needle at night is stunning. Makes me want to visit Washington again.

Me: How’s the PNW?

Ken: Wet. Cold. Too far from Chicago.

Me: Tell Christian Grey I said hello.

Ken: I’m pretty sure Jamie Dornan lives in England.

Ken: With his wife.

Me: Should I be impressed or concerned you know that?

Ken: You will probably be more impressed that I know about twitchy palms.

Me: I would be more impressed if you showed me.

Ken: That right?

Me: Yep, but first…

Ken: ???

Me: Why 22?