Just for a second.
Just long enough for the ache to slip through her armor.
She thinks she hides it well. And maybe she does around everyone else.
But I know her.
I know how much she loved Elijah. How long she loved him — since she was ten, scribbling "future Mrs. Deveraux" on her notebooks and swearing she'd marry him someday.
Zach told me the other day that Sam said she's staying away from Elijah for good.
At first, I didn't believe it.
How do you walk away from the person you've loved half your life?
But as days passed, I realized she meant it.
She doesn't visit the hockey dorms anymore. Doesn't show up to their practices. Hasn't attended a single game — not one — even though she used to live for this.
Instead, she's been going out every night with her friends. Laughing. Dancing. Partying. Filling her evenings with anything that isn't him.
She's really trying. She's really moving on.
And I'm happy for her — truly. So is Zach.
We're both rooting for her, both hoping that somewhere in this messy, complicated process, she finds the happiness she's always deserved.
Watching her now — quiet, composed, pretending she's just focused on the game — I just hope she eventually finds someone who loves her the way she's always loved Elijah.
I nudge her lightly with my shoulder. "So... where are you and your friends heading after this?"
Sam straightens a little, slipping on her cheerful mask like it's second nature. "Oh! We're going to the football house later. They're throwing a huge party tonight. The QB invited us."
I widen my eyes, grinning. "Look at you. Miss Social Life. You've been going out a lot lately."
She gives a half-laugh, toying with her straw. "Well... yeah. It's been fun."
I raise a brow, teasing. "Uh-huh. And have you met any guys?"
Sam rolls her eyes, but the smile stays. "I've met some. A few are nice. And a few are just—"
She waves her hand vaguely. "—your typical dumb jock. Cute, but the brain cells? Questionable."
I snort into my drink, waiting.
She keeps going, chattier now that she's comfortable. "Some of them try so hard it's kind of adorable. But they're nothing like E—"
Her words choke off instantly.
A tiny slip.
Barely a second. But it's enough.
She clears her throat so fast it's almost painful and flips her hair over her shoulder like she can physically redirect the conversation. "Anyway! Whatever. It's fine. It'll be a fun night. The girls want to dance."
I don't push. I don't say a word.
But God... I hope she knows she doesn't have to pretend with me.
