My stomach drops.
It's a beat-up Honda Civic, silver paint faded on the hood, a crack in the rear windshield that's been there for years. I know that car.
Maya.
"Why is Maya here?" Emma's voice cuts through my thoughts, surprised and confused. "I didn't know she was coming to visit."
My heart's pounding. The post-game adrenaline is nothing compared to this: the sharp spike of panic mixed with something else. Something I've been trying to ignore for a year.
Chase kills the engine, already unbuckling. "Maybe she wanted to surprise you?"
Emma's out of the truck before I can process what's happening. She's moving toward the front door, keys already in hand. Chase follows, carefully extracting a sleeping Ethan from his car seat.
I grab my gear and take my time walking up the driveway. My pulse is too fast, and my hands feel unsteady on the strap of my bag. This is stupid. I'm a grown man, a professional athlete, and a team captain. I shouldn't be nervous about seeing a woman I've known for a decade.
A woman I've been in love with for eight years.
A woman I kissed and then walked away from a year ago.
The last time I saw Maya was two months ago. Ethan went on the ice for the first time, and she helped me shop for newgear for him. We spent an hour in a sporting goods store picking out tiny skates and a jumper. It should've been easy. We used to be able to talk about anything. Instead, it was awkward as hell.
We haven't really spoken since.
The front door's already open when I reach the porch. I can hear Emma's voice inside, high and excited. Then another voice. Lower, familiar.
Maya.
I step inside, and there she is.
She's standing in the living room, and she looks… wrong. That's the first thing I notice. Not wrong like she doesn't belong here, because she's always belonged. But wrong like something's broken.
She's thinner than I remember. Her jeans hang loose on her hips. Her brown eyes look tired. Her black curly hair is pulled into a messy bun, and she's wearing an oversized sweater that swallows her frame.
But she's smiling at Emma, and for a second it's like nothing's changed. Like we're still kids, and she's the girl my mom took in after her mother died. Still the bright, loud, wild girl who made our house feel fuller.
Then her eyes slide past Emma and land on me.
The smile falters.
Something flickers across her face—surprise, maybe, or panic—before she rebuilds the mask. And it is a mask. I can see the edges of it now, the construction of someone pretending to be okay.
"Why are you here?" She says it like an accusation, and Emma frowns.
"I've been staying here for about a month now," I say, keeping my voice even. "Didn't Em tell you?"
Maya's eyes widen. She shakes her head, turning back to Emma. "You didn't mention?—"
"I didn't think to mention it. Honestly, I didn't even know you were coming."
"It was last-minute," Maya says quickly. I catch the tension in her shoulders, the way her hands are shaking just. "I should have called first. I just… I needed to get out of Pinewood for a bit."
"You're always welcome here, you know that." Emma hugs her, and Maya returns it, but something's off. I can see it in the way she holds herself, like she's barely keeping it together.
Chase shifts Ethan in his arms. He's fully asleep now, drooling on Chase's shoulder. "I'm gonna put this guy to bed." He glances at Maya. "Good to see you."
"You too."
Emma follows him toward the stairs, already talking about making up the guest room.
