Page 97 of On the Line

“Well that’s a relief to hear! Drew . . .” I pause, trying to place him because Jameson didn’t mention anyone named Drew stopping by tonight. And then I realize who he is. “Oh! You’re Drew Jenkins”—I literally face-palm—“of course. I work in marketing for the Rebels. Welcome to the team.”

“Thanks. I’m really excited to be back in Boston.”

“Yeah, Jameson mentioned you have family here?”

“I grew up in West Roxbury,” he says mentioning the Boston neighborhood that feels almost like a suburb and is directly south of our town of Brookline. “My whole family’s still there. My sisters live on the same street as my mom.” His lips turn down at the corners, but I can’t quite figure out why and don’t feel like it’s my place to ask.

“They must be very excited to have you back here. Where are you living?”

“My family has a cabin up on Lake Winnipesaukee, so I was up there for most of the summer, but I just bought a place in the Back Bay. Moved in earlier today.”

“You’ll be right in the thick of things, then,” I say, since the Back Bay is where many of Boston’s best shops and restaurants are located. With two NHL contracts already under his belt, Drew has to be in his mid- to late-twenties, but with his wispy, light brown hair and his ridiculously long eyelashes, he could pass for younger.

Jameson and Colt must see Drew just then, because Colt shouts out, “Jenkins!” and waves his arm at him. Drew glances back at me.

“I think you’re being summoned by your team elder,” I say.

“Oh my God,” Drew laughs, “do people really call him that?”

“Only if they want to piss him off. I wouldn’t recommend starting off that way.” I think I remember Jameson saying something about Drew getting off on the wrong foot with some of his teammates in Colorado. “In fact,” I say, grabbing his forearm, “definitelydon’t do that.”

“I won’t. It was nice to meet you, Lauren.”

“You too. I’ll talk to you later,” I say and turn back toward the house.

I know Audrey was headed toward the house to grab the platter of s’mores supplies a minute ago, and I want to make sure she found everything since I imagine Jameson will start the fire up soon. But I’ve only taken a few steps when I see her standing on the deck, frozen in place, looking like she’s seen a ghost. And when I follow her gaze, her eyes are locked on Drew.

She doesn’t even notice me until I’m right by her side. “You okay?”

“What’shedoing here?”

“Drew Jenkins?” I say, just to be sure.

“Yeah.”

“He got traded to the Rebels. I assume Jameson invited him over because he just moved into his new place in the Back Bay.”

“What?” She whispers the word out so quietly it’s almost silent. Her eyes still haven’t drifted away from Drew.

“Why do you seem so shook?”

She exhales a ragged breath, then gives me a small, tight smile. “I’m not shook. I’m just surprised to see him here. We went to college together.”

“Did you guys know each other well?” I know I’m prying, but it’s not like Audrey to not spill all the info, and the fact that she’s being a bit cagey has me wondering what the rest of the story is.

“Yeah, I tutored him in calculus my junior year.”

“Is it . . . good to see him?”

Audrey presses her lips between her teeth as her eyes drift back to Drew again.

“Not really,” she says, and then turns toward me suddenly, keeping her back to everyone on the patio and lawn and her head tilted forward so her hair covers her face on both sides. When I glance in that direction, Drew’s eyes are focused on Audrey’s back and there’s confusion written all over his face. “Shit. I need to leave,” Audrey mumbles. “I’m going to head inside. Would you do me a favor and send Graham in? He’s going to be mad if I make him leave early, and I don’t want to cause a scene out here.”

“Audrey, what’s going on?”

“I’ll explain later. Please, just send Graham in as quickly as possible.”

She makes a beeline for the glass doors and steps off the deck and into the kitchen, sliding the screen closed behind her. She must move farther into the house, because I don’t even see her through the screen.

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