My heart sinks and swells at the same time.
"Oh, Zach..."
I cup his cheek, and he melts into my palm instantly — like his whole body exhales at my touch. His lashes flutter shut for a moment, his cheek pressing deeper into my hand like he's trying to live inside that softness.
"You did protect me," I whisper.
He shakes his head, eyes opening again, guilt storming inside them. "Not enough."
"You did," I repeat firmly. "In your own Zach way."
His brows pinch, confused.
"Remember," I murmur, brushing my thumb over his knuckles, "you almost got kicked out of school—twice. Allbecause you couldn't stop throwing punches at guys who ran their mouths about me."
His mouth twitches. "They deserved it."
"They did," I laugh softly. "But I was the one who begged you to stop, Zach. Because I didn't want you throwing away your future over people who weren't worth a single bruise on your knuckles. And because some of them were your teammates then. You fighting with them every week wouldn't have fixed anything — it would've just broken the team more. And I know how much hockey means to you... how much winning means to you."
Zach's jaw flexes. "Not as much as you," he mutters. "You mean more to me than any of that. You always did."
My heart melts, just absolutely puddles.
"Still... if I'd tried harder. If I'd pushed harder. Maybe they would've left you alone."
"Zach."
I slide closer, taking his face in both hands so he has no choice but to look at me.
"You can't change people like them. You can't control how insecure or cruel they choose to be. That's not on you. What mattered... was that I knew I had you." My voice softens. "You made my high school life bearable. You made it feel safe. And you loved me long before I even liked myself."
His throat bobs hard.
Then his hands slide to my waist, tugging me closer until I'm straddling him, knees bracketing his hips. He holds me like he's afraid I might disappear if he loosens his grip even a little.
"I hate them," he mutters into my shoulder, voice low and wrecked. "I hate that they ever made you feel small. And I hate myself even more for the three years I let you believe you weren't enough because of something stupid I said. I don't... I don't get how you forgave me for that."
I pull back just enough to see his face — the guilt, the sadness, the boy I once loved all tangled in the man I'm holding now. My chest stretches tight, painfully soft.
"Hey," I whisper, cupping his jaw and running my thumb along the warm line of his cheek.
"You're talking about a guy who barely knew how to handle his own feelings, remember? A guy who was terrible at communicating. The one who panicked and said something stupid instead of just telling his friend,'Hey, back off, I'm crazy about her'?"
I nudged him, trying to coax out a smile from him.
A tiny, broken laugh escapes him. "Yeah... that guy was definitely a coward."
"And immature," I continue, teasing gently.
"Wow," he murmurs, the ghost of a smile tugging at his mouth. "Drag me a little more, why don't you."
I grin back. "Gladly. The point is — that wasn't you. Not anymore. Not the you who loves me now."
I shift closer, pressing my forehead to his.
"I forgave you because it was a misunderstanding — not a truth. And because since the day we found each other again, you've shown me, in a hundred little ways, that those words meant nothing. Your actions are what mattered."
"And I wasn't exactly a picture of maturity either," I go on, giving him a wry smile. "If I'd just confronted you and said,'Hey, I heard what you said, you absolute idiot,'instead of running away and cutting you out? We could've saved ourselves three years of heartbreak. So no, it wasn't just you. I was a coward too."
