I thought she felt it too.
No. I know she did.
Instead of drawing her closer and binding her to me, I’d pushed too hard and shoved her right over the edge.
Patience has never been my strong suit. On the ice, speed is everything. You strike before your opponent even sees you coming.
But with Rina… if I keep rushing the play, I’ll lose the whole damn game.
The thought tears me up.
The idea of losing her—no, not just her, but her and our baby—feels worse than anything I’ve ever lived through. Worse than a losing season. Worse than the night I sat in a dark hospital waiting room after Dad died, wondering if my family would be the same again.
I learned that night how quickly everything can disappear. One second, you’re planning for a future. The next, you’re standing in the wreckage of what you thought was unbreakable. And ever since, I’ve tried to control what I can—games, contracts, people—because if I keep everything moving, maybe nothing else will fall apart.
She says she needs space?
Fine. I’ll give it to her.
But space doesn’t have to mean distance.
Not for me.
No matter how far she runs, that woman will always be mine.
When I slide behind the wheel again, the car feels cavernous, the emptiness settling in all around me. The seat beside me still carries the faint trace of her perfume, something smoky and sultry, a ghost I can’t shake no matter how hard I try. My knuckles burn as I grip the steering wheel and force oxygen into my lungs in gradual, even pulls.
I’ve spent my whole life reacting both on and off the ice. When I want something, I go after it full force. But maybe this time, wanting her means learning how to wait.
She thinks I’m rushing blindly into this.
That I’m reckless.
That what I’m offering is nothing but an impulsive decision.
But that’s where Rina’s wrong, because there’s nothing impulsive about the way I feel for her. This isn’t some one-night stand gone awry. This isn’t obligation, panic, or desperation.
This is the rest of my life.
And I’ll spend every damn day proving it to her.
Even if she doesn’t believe me yet.
Even if it takes patience I’ve never had before.
I’ll wait.
No matter how long it takes.
The buzz of my phone rattles against the console, shattering the silence. I glance down as my brother’s name lights up the screen.
Hayes: How’d the appointment go?
For a long moment, I stare at the text, not sure how to respond. A tightness coils inside me as my gaze shifts to the empty passenger seat, the space where she should be. The answer lodges in my throat, my feelings too complicated to express right now.
Because, yeah, we heard the heartbeat today.
But I also heard the sound of Rina running away.
