The Next Shift (book 2)

Kylie

There are some mornings that feel like the beginning of something.

This one feels like the beginning of everything.

I stand in front of the mirror in the bedroom I’ve somehow managed to claim as my own at the Peters house, staring at my reflection while trying to decide whether I look like a college student or a girl who accidentally wandered onto campus.

My Michigan sweatshirt is Cole’s. Obviously. The sleeves are too long, the hood is enormous, and it still smells faintly like his cologne. Also obviously.

My textbooks are stacked beside the door. My backpack is packed. My laptop is charged. My schedule is pulled up on my phone for approximately the fiftieth time.

Physical therapy.

Two words that still make my stomach flip. Not because I don’t want it. Because I do. I’ve wanted this for years. But wanting something and actually standing at the starting line are two very different things.

A knock sounds against the door.

I turn.

Cole leans against the frame. Messy dark hair. Blue eyes. Michigan hoodie. That stupid half-smile. He looks completely relaxed. Of course he does.

“Ready?”

I stare at him. “No.”

He nods. “Cool.”

I blink. “That’s it?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know. Maybe something encouraging?”

He pushes off the doorframe and walks toward me.

“You’re going to be fine.”

“That wasn’t very inspirational.”

“You’re smart.”

“Better.”

“You’re going to work your ass off.”

“Still better.”

“And if you start freaking out…” He stops in front of me. “I’ll remind you that you’re the girl who graduated valedictorian while half the school was busy talking shit about you.”

I smile. “That’s actually pretty good.”

“I know.”

There he is. My cocky hockey player.

I shake my head.

“You’re going to be unbearable in college, aren’t you?”

“Probably.”

He reaches up and fixes a strand of my hair that doesn’t actually need fixing. Then his expression softens.

“But seriously. You’re going to crush it.”

I look at him for a second. “Thanks.”

He kisses my forehead.

“Come on. We’re going to be late.”

Downstairs is absolute chaos.

Emma is sitting at the kitchen table eating cereal while trying to color at the same time. Patrick is arguing with Cole’s mom about whether he actually needs to leave for school yet. And Cole’s hockey bag is sitting directly in the middle of the kitchen.

I point at it. “You’re taking that?”

Cole looks at me like I’ve asked if he’s taking his own head.

“Yeah?”

“You have practice tonight.”

“Exactly.”

“It’s eight in the morning.”

“Exactly.”

I stare at him. “You’ve been in college for five minutes and you’ve already become one of those people.”

“One of what people?”

“Hockey people.”

Patrick looks up. “That’s rich coming from the girl who spent half of high school wearing his jersey.”

“Shut up, Patrick.”

He grins. “Welcome to college.”

Cole grabs his bag. I sling mine over my shoulder. And for a second, I just stand there. Looking around.

This house has become part of my life in a way I never expected.

I remember the first time I walked through that front door. I barely knew these people. Cole and I were pretending to be together. Patrick drove me insane. Emma was adorable. And Cole—Cole was just the guy I was absolutely not supposed to fall for.

Now my toothbrush is upstairs. My clothes are in his closet. Emma has a drawer full of things she insists are “Kylie’s.” Patrick complains when I’m not here. And Cole…Cole is home. Which is a terrifying thought when I stop to consider it. And somehow the most comforting one I’ve ever had.

He reaches for my hand. “You coming?”

I smile and take it.

“Yeah.”

We walk out together.

The campus is already buzzing when we arrive.

Students everywhere. Cars packed into parking lots. People carrying backpacks and coffee. Groups of freshmen looking just as lost as I feel.

Cole parks and kills the engine. For a moment neither of us moves. Then he looks over.

“First day,” he says.

“First day.”

“You nervous?”

“A little.”

“Me too,” he admits.

I turn toward him.

He gives me a look. “What?”

“You just admitted you’re nervous.”

“Don’t tell anyone.”

I laugh.

He reaches across the console and takes my hand. “We’ll figure it out.”

I squeeze his fingers.

“Together?”

He smiles. “Always.”

And that’s the thing about starting over. You don’t actually know what’s coming. You don’t know which people you’ll meet. Which plans will change. Which dreams will get bigger. Which ones will fall apart. You don’t know what you’ll lose. Or what you’ll find. But as Cole gets out of the Jeep and comes around to open my door, holding his hand out to me like he has every other time we’ve stepped into something new together, I realize something.

Maybe I don’t need to know. Maybe that’s the point. Because whatever comes next—I’m not facing it alone.

By the time my second class ends, I’ve already learned three things about college:

One: professors do not care that it’s the first week.

Two: apparently “syllabus week” is a lie.

And three: I have no idea how I’m supposed to remember where any of these buildings are.

I stare down at my phone as I walk across campus, trying to match the building number on my schedule to the map.

PT 201 — North Hall

Easy enough.

Except there are approximately seventeen buildings that look exactly like North Hall.

My phone buzzes.

Aria😈👯♀️: HELP

Another message immediately follows.

Aria😈👯♀️: KYLIE I HAVE A FOURTEEN PAGE PROJECT DUE IN THREE WEEKS

I stop walking.

Me: It’s the first week.

Aria😈👯♀️: I KNOW

Aria😈👯♀️: THAT’S WHY I’M PANICKING

I laugh under my breath.

Me: What class?

Aria😈👯♀️: Human Anatomy

Me: You knew college was going to involve anatomy.

Aria😈👯♀️: I knew.

Aria😈👯♀️: I did not know it would involve an entire presentation and research paper and group project

I smile.

Me: Welcome to adulthood.

Three dots appear.

Aria😈👯♀️: I hate you

Me: Love you too ❤️

My phone buzzes again.

Aria😈👯♀️: Also I just saw your hockey boy on someone’s Instagram story

I stop again.

Of course.

Me: What was he doing?

Aria😈👯♀️: Existing apparently

Aria😈👯♀️: There are already girls posting about him

I stare at the screen for a second. Then lock my phone.

Nope. Not today.

I’m not doing this.

By lunchtime, I’ve survived three classes, gotten lost twice, and learned that the campus coffee shop somehow charges six dollars for something that tastes like melted cardboard.

I’m sitting outside with my laptop when my phone buzzes again.

Cole❤️: Where are you?

Me: Lunch

Cole❤️: Obviously

Me: What does that mean?

Cole❤️: You get cranky when you’re hungry.

I smile.

Me: I do not.

Cole❤️: You absolutely do.

Me: Where are you?

Cole❤️: Student center.

Cole❤️: Come here.

I glance at the clock. I still have twenty minutes before my next class. Plenty of time.

I find him before he sees me.

He’s sitting at a table with several guys wearing Michigan hockey gear. And he’s laughing. Really laughing. Head tipped back. One hand around a bottle of water. Completely relaxed.

I slow down for a second. Because this is different.

At high school, I knew everyone around him. I knew the teammates, the coaches, the parents.

Here? They’re all strangers. And yet Cole looks like he’s been part of this group forever.

One of the guys notices me first. He elbows the guy beside him. Then another.

Cole finally looks over. His entire expression changes. That smile becomes the one I know. The one that’s only for me.

He stands. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

He reaches for my hand and pulls me closer.

“You survive?”

“Barely.”

“Good.”

I laugh. “Good?”

“Means you’re getting the authentic college experience.”

He kisses my temple before turning back toward the table.

“Guys, this is Kylie.”

A tall guy with sandy hair immediately grins. “The Kylie?”

I blink.

Cole sighs. “Don’t.”

The guy laughs. “What? You talk about her.”

“I do not.”

“You absolutely do.”

Another guy holds out his hand. “Carter.”

I shake it.

“Kylie.”

“Nice to finally meet you.”

Finally? I glance at Cole. He gives me an innocent look.

“I don’t talk about you.”

“Apparently you do.”

Carter laughs. “He’s been talking about you since training camp.”

Cole points at him. “You’re done.”

I sit beside Cole.

The conversation quickly turns to hockey. Which, honestly, I expected. What I didn’t expect was how quickly everyone started talking about Cole. Not about him exactly. About what he’d done at training camp.

“You should’ve seen that move,” another teammate says. “Second scrimmage.”

Carter nods. “Absolute filth.”

I look at Cole.

He shrugs. “What?”

“What did you do?”

“Nothing.”

“Cole.”

“It was a good play.”

Carter laughs. “He deked two defensemen, cut through the slot, and roofed it.”

Another guy adds, “Then he scored again thirty seconds later.”

Cole takes a drink like they’re discussing the weather.

I stare at him. “You didn’t tell me that.”

“You didn’t ask.”

“You told me you had a good practice.”

“It was a good practice.”

Carter looks at me.

“That’s his version of bragging.”

“I don’t brag.”

The entire table laughs.

Cole shakes his head. “Traitors.”

I watch him for a second. The way these guys talk about him. The way they already respect him. The way he doesn’t seem particularly impressed by himself. It makes something warm settle in my chest.

He’s good. Really good. And people are starting to notice. Maybe more people than either of us expected.

My phone buzzes again. I glance down.

Another message from Aria.

Aria😈👯♀️: UPDATE

Aria😈👯♀️: I MAY HAVE CREATED A GROUP CHAT FOR MY PROJECT

Aria😈👯♀️: I REGRET EVERYTHING

I bite back a laugh. Cole notices.

“What?”

“Aria.”

“What’s she freaking out about now?”

“Fourteen-page project.”

He winces. “Damn.”

“Exactly.”

He steals one of my fries. I slap his hand.

“Get your own.”

“Yours taste better.”

“They’re literally the same fries.”

“Still.”

I shake my head.

And as the guys start arguing over some training-camp play I apparently need to hear the full story about, I lean back in my chair.

For the first time all day, I stop feeling like I’m trying to figure out where I belong. Because sitting here beside Cole, surrounded by his new teammates, listening to them talk about hockey like it’s a second language…it feels a little like we’re both finding our place.

Together.

Even if I’m beginning to suspect Cole’s new life is going to come with a lot more attention than either of us anticipated.