Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 83216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
I can almost feel the weight of his gaze, as if he’s looking straight through the camera and crowd.
Through everything standing between us.
A moment passes.
Then another.
His shoulders drop a fraction before he turns toward the nearest camera and points once before tapping his heart twice and skating away.
The announcers chuckle.
“Looks like that goal might’ve been for someone watching at home,” one says.
“Guess we’ll have to wait for the postgame interview to find out who,” the other replies.
But I already know.
Every bone in my body knows.
The realization hits hard as my throat burns and my eyes sting. I blink, refusing to let the tears fall. If I start crying now, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop.
Mom sits beside me, silent at first. When she finally speaks, her tone is gentle. “You look like me after your father walked out. As if you’re terrified of needing anyone.”
The comment drops like a stone into calm water, the ripples spreading until I can’t ignore them.
The difference is, she was brave enough to stop running from what she wanted.
And I’m still halfway out the door.
After a few beats of silence, she asks the one thing I’ve been trying so hard to avoid. “Do you love him?”
The question lands like a whisper and a challenge all at once.
With my throat tight, I nod. “I do. But is it enough?”
She glances toward the television before answering. “I think it’s a pretty good start.”
For the first time since I ran away, the panic in me loosens its grip.
Maybe this isn’t about being sure.
Maybe it’s about being willing to risk the fall.
Long after the game ends, a muted replay flashes across the screen. Oliver in the locker room, helmet off, hair damp and curling slightly at the ends. His eyes are steady and unreadable, heart on full display even when he tries to hide it. I see it in the way he stands and the tension that brackets his mouth.
Every part of him still feels tethered to me.
Maybe love doesn’t fix everything.
Maybe it just makes you brave enough to try.
48
Oliver
The locker room buzzes with postgame noise. Water bottles snap open, tape rips, and triumphant shouts bounce off the walls. The air is thick with sweat, soap, and adrenaline.
I sit near my stall, half out of my gear, and stare at the floor. My thoughts are a jumbled mess that keeps circling back to Rina when I should be celebrating with the team. The win tonight was hard-fought. It’s the kind that should leave me pumped. My gloves are off, my skates unlaced, but I can’t make myself move.
Or even give a shit.
Which is a first.
“Come on, Van Doren,” Knox calls from across the aisle, his grin stretching wide. “We won. Look like you’re actually happy about it.”
River snorts, dragging a towel through his hair. “You were on fire tonight. I don’t think I’ve seen you skate that hard since the playoffs.”
I tug my jersey over my head and toss it in the bin. “Just focused, I guess.”
“Focused?” River laughs. “More like possessed.”
Their voices fade into the background. Normally, their banter would pull a smile from me, but today it doesn’t even come close.
The one face I wanted to see in the crowd tonight was a no-show.
Rina never misses home games. Her seat in the suite might as well have her name etched across it. She’s part of this team, and takes her role as PR manager seriously. Seeing that spot empty for the first time in years hits harder than any check on the ice.
It was a gut punch I was unprepared for.
I keep telling myself I’m doing what’s best for her by giving her space and the room she needs. But, Christ, it’s harder than I imagined.
The laughter around me grows louder. Someone’s yelling about postgame drinks, another guy’s talking stats, but it all feels far away. Almost like I’m underwater, listening to a world I don’t belong in. There’s the rip of Velcro, the clang of metal, and the faint sound of music from the hallway. Every sound grates against the hollowness that fills me.
I lean forward and brace my elbows on my knees before dragging a hand through my damp hair.
It’s hard not to chase after her when every part of me feels wired to find her.
When did she become my other half?
The thought settles heavy inside me as the noise around me fades. I move on autopilot, stripping off the rest of my gear before heading to the showers. The water hits my shoulders, hot enough to sting, but it does nothing to wash away the ache beneath my skin.
If this were any other time, I’d stay, joke around with the guys, and let the adrenaline fade under all the usual banter and bullshit.
But not tonight.
By the time the reporters clear out, I’m left with nothing but a bone-deep exhaustion.