I reply.
Me: You did it. I’m so proud of you, Cel. You’re magic.
There’s a flutter in my chest, like hope trying to remind me it’s still alive under the bruises.
I busted my ass to pay for her summer program because she’s one of the most important people in my life. Because she matters.
This whole influencer thing has taken on a life of its own. When I first started on social media, it was because I wanted something I rarely saw when I was a kid. A role model. A female hockey player. I never intended for it to get this big. Spin out of my control like this. But a good part of it was for her. And now? Even if everything else burns down, she’s dancing. That has to mean something.
I stare at the screen until her little typing bubbles disappear. Then I tuck the phone away, stand, and grab my bag.
I should feel proud. I am proud. But the weight on my shoulders doesn’t lift. Not yet.
Not when the one person I wanted to share this moment with still hasn’t called.
The back hallway of the rink echoes with shouted reminders from the men’s team about locker clean outs. At least they’re loud enough to signal their presence ahead of time. I duck my head and keep moving, one hand wrapped around my water bottle like it’s a weapon.
Then I hear it.
“Luna.”
Just one word. My name. I freeze, but the swell of hope I was feeling collapses, leaving an even deeper ache in my chest.
“Wait.”
I don’t turn around. Because it’s not him. It’s JJ.
My pulse hammers behind my eyes, and I keep walking. He calls my name again, softer this time. Almost like a question. But I ignore him, pushing through the exit, out into the fading light. The door hisses shut behind me, sealing the divide between us.
Outside, it’s cold enough to bite.
I let it.
Chapter 32
Aftershocks
Beau
Insteadoffocusingonthe athletic director pacing a trench around the cramped meeting room, I keep glancing at the door. Most of my team is here. Beth’s head swivels away when she catches me looking at her. Not a good sign. A shadow falls in the doorway and hope rises again, only to crash down when Maisie walks in, JJ by her side. I’m pretty sure she catches the question in my eyes, but she turns away too.
The worst part isn’t that Luna’s mad. The worst part is I don’t know if she’s done with me. I need to talk to her, but I got too far up in my head and took too long to reach out. Now she’s not answering my texts or calls, and I don’t blame her. This is my chance. She’s got to show up today. I’ll get a chance to explain everything and beg for forgiveness.
The team meeting room smells like dry-erase markers and someone’s too potent cologne. We’re packed tighter than usual. Usually, this space is reserved for smaller meetings, not all hands on deck situations. Maisie ducks up front to talk to the AD and Sin in a hushed tone before taking a seat across from me,and my heart sinks. Luna’s seat. Her alternate is filling in for her tonight.
JJ’s bouncing his leg beside me like we’re in line for a rollercoaster. Dev hasn’t said a word since we walked in.
The AD clears her throat and switches the slide on the screen behind her. The university logo disappears. A new one pops up. It’s clean, minimalistic, luxury-coded. The donor’s foundation.
Just seeing it twists something low in my stomach.
“We’ve received word that the Bridgefern Foundation has canceled its upcoming visit to Lakeview.” Her tone is way too even to be casual, and even though she’s not looking at me, I can feel the judgment slashing into my chest. “The donor is reevaluating potential alignments.”
Reevaluating alignments. A bunch of PR bullshit talk that tells me the donor is walking away from us.
“Unofficially, they’ve been touring facilities at Western Shore.” She twists the knife.
A ripple goes through the room. Someone mutters a low shit from the back.
