Page 80 of Unleashed

He nodded once. Just once. But something in his posture shifted. “Hoss said you understand cars.”

“Only enough to know what details matter to the people who truly love them.”

Another slight nod. Progress, maybe.

We spent the next hour going over technical requirements. He answered our questions with the bare minimum of words, but his knowledge was encyclopedic. Every so often, Adele would catch my eye, glancing meaningfully at particularly photogenic corners of the space. The music video possibilities were endless, but that was a conversation for another day. I didn’t think we should push our luck today.

By the time we climbed back in the van, the sun had shifted toward afternoon. A hot breeze carried the scent of motor oil and possibility.

“That went... well?” Adele said as we pulled away. “I think? Hard to tell with him, but he didn’t kick us out.”

“He’s giving us a shot.” I kept my eyes on the road, not letting my mind drift to thoughts about other taciturn men I’d known. Men who’d kept their emotions locked down tight until you earned their trust. “Let’s make it count.”

She hummed agreement, but I could feel her watching me. Waiting for the walls to crack.

Not today, though. I lived with the constant regret of what I’d tossed away so carelessly, and I suspected that wouldn’t change in this lifetime. I had a Jack Vignier-sized hole in my heart.

But today? Today was about building something new. Looking forward.

Even if sometimes my heart forgot to let go of what was lost.

Longshadowscreptacrossthe old hardware store’s dusty windows as day faded into dusk. The familiarclick-whirof hard drives and the hum of equipment filled our makeshift editing bay—a far cry from the high-end equipment we’d used in Austin, but infinitely more satisfying.

I leaned back in my chair, studying the footage from today’s youth hockey practice. Even through the viewfinder, Hoss’s passion for teaching shone through. The way he broke down complex moves into digestible pieces, his endless patience with wobbly skaters... My fingers flew across the keyboard, marking key moments for the promo piece.

“I think we’ve got it.” Adele’s voice drifted over from her workstation. “That transition you added really pulls it together.” She stretched, her back cracking. “Oh, before I forget—Riley mentioned Jack had his knee surgery last week.”

My fingers froze over the keys.

Long inhale. Small breath. Slow release.

I didn’t look up. I didn’t need to, to know that Adele’s eyes were on me, gauging my reaction. I wouldn’t give her one. Each word measured, controlled. Like discussing any other subject. Like my heart wasn’t trying to claw its way into my throat. “That’s... good.”

“Successful, apparently.” She kept her tone carefully neutral, but I could feel her watching. “Riley said he’s working with a top surgeon in Austin, some sports medicine specialist that’s all about pro athletes.”

I nodded, kept my eyes on my screen. Don’t ask. Don’t engage. But my traitorous mouth opened anyway. “Did Riley mention how he’s doing with recovery?”

“As expected.” Her voice softened. “Puppy says he’s driving everyone crazy, wanting to do more than he should.”

A familiar ache bloomed in my chest. That was Jack—all hyper drive and stubborn determination. A man who’d played through a serious cartilage tear just to give his team one last shot at the Cup. Who’d spend hours analyzing game tape, looking for any edge, any advantage…

No. Not going there. I rolled my lips, focused on the screen in front of me.

Focus. Work. I had deadlines to meet.

I threw myself back into the editing, but my mind kept drifting. Who was making sure he didn’t overdo it? Distracting him with coffee loaded with that ridiculous amount of creamer he refused to admit he loved so much...

Stop.

I forced my attention to our growing client board and the vision board Adele had insisted we create. Local businesses. Community projects. Authentic voices telling their own stories.

These small jobs would never trend on social media or win industry awards, but they represented honest work—the kind of storytelling that had made me fall in love with this career in the first place. The kind that finally let me sleep at night.

Respectable work. Work I would be proud to share with Jack.

I imagined him looking over my shoulder now, his chin dipping in approval at the youth hockey footage. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to pressing Adele to accept work for Hoss’s youth team. I’d wanted the connection to the sport Jack loved. It felt like a connection to him, even if only in my battered heart.

“Earth to Lily!” Adele’s voice cut through my spiral. “Where’d you go?”

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