I curse under my breath and rake both hands through my hair, needing to do something with the hurt clawing at my chest.
There’s a bang as the locker room door pops open behind me.
“East,” Hunter calls. “We've got to go. Coach wants us on the bench. Kiss your wife goodbye. You’ll see her after the game.”
The words twist like a knife.
I turn back to her. “Can we at least talk about this after the game?” I ask, desperation leaking through. “Just… give me that much. Don’t walk away after a hallway conversation before puck drop.”
Her eyes flick to the ice entrance beyond me, then back. “I won’t be there,” she says. “I’ve already moved out.”
My brain stalls. “You… what?”
“I moved my things today,” she says, voice steady. “My grandmother has a place for me to stay. You can cancel the lease on the penthouse. Save the money.”
I just nod, my hands pinching at my hips because that’s all I can do. “I guess you’ve thought of everything.” The words boil up in my throat before I can stop them. “What about the divorce papers, Kat?” I ask. “You have those ready too? Want me to sign them right now between line changes?”
Color drains from her face, but she keeps her chin high. “No. My lawyer will reach out when they’re prepared.”
“Jesus, Katerina,” I say, something like a laugh—bitter and disbelieving—breaking out of me. “I’m in love with you. I took your virginity. That meant nothing?”
Her eyes flash finally, finally showing something fierce and wounded. “Of course it meant something,” she bites out, and for one second she sounds like the woman who moans under me in my bed, who whispers my name when I make love to her. “But not enough to change what my life is supposed to be.”
There it is.
Not enough.
I look away, pressing my tongue against my teeth so I don’t say something I can’t take back. My hands are shaking. I curl them into fists.
“I should go,” she says, like she’s announcing an intermission. “The limo is waiting.”
She turns.
At the last second, she hesitates. Her shoulders tighten. I swear I see it—the first real crack, the truth trying to claw its way out—
“Kat,” I say, reaching toward her. “Kat—”
She doesn’t look back.
Her heels click against the concrete as she walks down the tunnel, past the security guard, around the corner.
Gone.
“East.” Hunter’s voice is closer now, softer, like he saw just enough to know not to joke. “We've got to go, man.”
I drag a hand over my face. My throat feels raw, like I’ve swallowed glass.
“Yeah,” I say hoarsely. “Yeah. I’m coming.”
I step out onto the ice with my team, the roar of the crowd crashing over us. The lights and music… the usual hype.
I look up to our section like a reflex.
Our seats are empty.
No dark hair, no sharp cheekbones, no ballerina spine sitting in my seats.
Just two vacant chairs and a hundred strangers around them, screaming for a game that suddenly feels like the least important thing in my life.
