Uncertainty lingers in my mind as I recall the hot and cold moments of the last few weeks. Every time I feel like I get closer to her, she shuts down and closes me off. This time could be no different, especially since Cole involved himself.
He’ll get what’s coming to him tomorrow. I might not be on the ice, but my boys are, and they’ll handle it on my behalf.
In the meantime, my focus is solely on her, and if not talking right this second is what she needs, then so be it.
Silence consumes us during the next few minutes as we near home and pull into the parking garage. She kills the engine, staring into her lap, and I hate that I recognize the look on her face.
A blank expression so numb that it almost looks cold. I hate even more that I wasn’t outside to get rid of him before he could even say a word to her.
“Ready?” I murmur softly, trying not to startle her if she’s lost in her thoughts.
She blinks away her stupor, the slightest nod communicating her response as she grabs her belongings and steps out of the car.
Eye contact is nonexistent as we head inside—something that’s driving me insane. I want her to talk to me, to let me in. But when we get inside the penthouse, she walks off to the spare bedroom without a word or glance, and my body tightens at her coldness.
“Fuck,” I whisper to myself when I hear her door click shut.
I groan as I crutch over to the staircase and head up to my room, leaving the door open as I sit down on the end of my bed, lying back and staring up at the ceiling.
We used to tell each other every single thing about our lives, and I know that was a different time for both of us, but that’s still who we are at the end of the day, just Lainey and Jensen.
I wish I knew what she’s so scared of. Fear is the only explanation. I just don’t know why. Does she not trust me anymore? Does she not want the same things from me as I’ve been leading on?
My heart starts racing at that thought, stinging me to the core. I know she wants me as badly as I want her. I can see it in the heaviness of her blue gaze, the way she watches me when she thinks I don’t notice.
The possibility of us not ending up together is a reality I never want to face. I don’t think I’d survive it. I need her more than I need air to breathe, more than I need to skate and play hockey. There’s nothing in my life I wouldn’t sacrifice to be loved by her, and that’s not ever changing.
I’m hers to the core, and I think I always have been. Any relationship I’ve ever had was fleeting. I constantly found reasons to end them all, nothing ever feeling like enough orright.
When Lainey first started dating Cole, I was so mad because sheknewthat I hated him from my time in high school and AHL hockey. He’s always been such a dirty rat of a player.
I tried to forget her, drowning myself in alcohol and flings. But nothing ever stuck or felt good.
Eventually, I stopped trying. I haven’t been with anyone in the last couple of years at least. I didn’t want to waste mine or anyone else’s time when I knew the relationship wouldn’t go anywhere.
I haven’t always been sure about what I want out of life after losing Carly and basically losing my parents, who I haven’t spoken to in almost a year—our new normal since I moved out nearly eight years ago. But I’ve always been sure about how I feel for Lainey.
Maybe it’s time I finally tell her.
My heart jumps into my throat as I sit up and crutch to my door, glancing down the hallway at her closed door. “I got this.”
Crutching down toward her room, I stop outside it, my breathing shallow as I slowly lift my fist and knock three times. “Lainey?”
I don’t hear any movement, so I call out again, “Lain?”
A shadow moves back and forth on the floor at my feet, light seeping out from beneath the door. She’s pacing back and forth on the other side, probably contemplating if she’s going to let me in.
“Just open the door. I know you’re right there. I can hear you pacing,” I say softer, knowing she’s less than a foot away from me.
The doorknob jiggles, and the shadow stops moving. One second. Two. Three. Four. Five.
Come on, baby.
The most exciting creak sounds as she pulls it open a few inches. And then a few more, and I notice the redness in her face, the splotchiness spreading down her neck.
Her eyes are bloodshot. She sniffles, her gaze on the ground as she steps back, making room for me to enter.
Planting myself firmly in her space and needing a break from these crutches, I sit down on the end of her bed and face her as she leans back against the now-closed door, keeping as much space as possible between us.
