Back in the room, Chase is still awake.
"Feel better?" he asks.
"Yeah. A bit."
"You called her."
Not a question. A statement.
"Yeah."
"Good. You've been miserable without her." He sets his phone down, looking at me with that serious expression that means he's about to say something I won't want to hear. "You know you're going to have to tell Emma soon, right? Like, actually soon. Not 'after playoffs' soon."
"I know."
"She's going to figure it out. The way you two are around each other, it's obvious if you're paying attention."
"Are we that bad?"
"You're that in love. There's a difference." He turns off his bedside lamp. "Just don't wait too long."
"Noted."
I lie in the dark, staring at the ceiling, listening to Chase's breathing even out as he falls asleep. He's right, we're running out of time. Maya knows it, I know it, Chase knows it.
We need to tell Emma, need to stop lying, need to come clean before this secret destroys everything we've built.
When I get home.Two days.Then we'll figure it out.
The next couple of days blur together in a haze of travel, team meals, and postgame adrenaline. We take the win in Montreal, closing out the road trip two and one. The team's clicking, riding high heading into the final stretch before the playoffs.
But my head's not fully in it. I can't stop thinking about Maya, about the pendant, about everything I want to say and haven't, about the life I want to build with her once we're finally free of all this secrecy.
The bus ride back to Hartford takes five hours. I spend most of it staring out the window, watching the highway disappear under our tires, rehearsing different versions of the same conversation in my head.
Chase nudges me awake when we pull into the arena parking lot. "We're here, Cap."
I grab my bag and head to my truck, Chase falling in step beside me. It's after midnight, and the parking lot is nearly empty.
I drive home on autopilot, the familiar streets passing in a blur, Chase chatting quietly beside me, half asleep. We pull into the driveway, and I sit here for a minute with the engine running and the heat blasting.
The pendant feels heavy around my neck. I've been wearing it since I was twenty-one and Mom gave it to me, and it's never felt this weighted before.
I know what I need to do.
Inside, the house is dark and quiet, and everyone is asleep. I head straight to the basement, drop my bag, and sit on the edge of my bed.
I pull the pendant over my head and hold it in my palm.
The silver wolf catches the dim light, worn smooth from years of wear. My dad gave this to my mom when he proposed; it was supposed to represent forever, protection, and love.
Mom gave it to me with the instruction that I'd know when it was time to pass it on.
I know. I've known for a while now.
Maya.It belongs to Maya.
I need to give it to her properly, not just hand it over, but make it mean something, show her that she's not just someone I'm with, she's the person, the only person.
