I didn’t have a dime to my name because he managed all our money.
He promised to take care of me.
And I stupidly trusted him.
Worse than anything that might happen tomewas what would happen to Shane.
He would have his job ripped from him, his only tie to hockey gone in a flash. And Nathan would make sure he never had another job in the league.
It would be over for him.
And I knew hockey was everything in his heart.
It didn’t make any of it hurt less, and I’d felt like a ghost going through the motions since the night I drove out of Will’s driveway. I wanted to talk to Shane, to explain my coldness, to make sure he knew that I didn’t regret that kiss, that I wished it could be more.
But I stayed away.
Nathan was watching me like a hawk, questioning everything — and now, it was bleeding into Sweet Dreams.
He’d been different since his return from Vegas, moving through our house with a quiet, methodical purpose, like he was taking inventory of a life he suddenly suspected wasn’t his anymore. He combed through the mail the moment he walked in, asked offhand questions about packages I’d already opened.He checked the bank app over breakfast, eyes flicking to me as if he expected me to flinch. He lingered in doorways when I got ready for work, watching me the way a scientist might watch something that had slipped out of its enclosure.
His suspicion was a creeping, living thing.
When he asked what kept me out of the house until nearly midnight when I was preparing for the Sweet Dreams Gala, his jaw clenched at my reply. “You were working on Sweet Dreams that long?” He’d shaken his head. “Maven didn’t mention staying that late.”
The day after that, he wanted paperwork — invoices, schedules, timelines.
“Something feels off,” he’d murmured, scrolling through his phone when I’d given him everything he’d asked for. “It’s probably nothing. I just like things to be clean.”
Then came the digs, soft as tissue paper, but sharp all the same.
“You’re always tired lately. Maybe Sweet Dreams is too much responsibility for you.”
“We should review our budget. Georgie’s tuition review is next month—don’t forget.”
“You looked flustered at the rink today. You should be careful. Optics matter.”
Each comment was mild, reasonable, even helpful if I looked at them sideways. But every one carved out a little more space inside me and replaced it with him.
And now, I was sitting alone in our bedroom with my hands folded tightly in my lap, trying to recover from the blow that finally took me down.
“I talked to PR,” he’d said to me tonight, loosening his tie as he sat down at the table I’d set for dinner. “Given your… emotional connection to the families, it’s better if you step backfrom Sweet Dreams. Let Maven and Grace take point on the gala. You can help from behind the scenes.”
Panic had slithered in and choked me like a snake.
“Nathan…” I wished I could say my voice was even and calm, but it was impossible for his name not to be a shocked plea.
“It’s better this way. You’ll have more time to devote to the house. And we have your big birthday party coming up — your focus should be there.”
“Nathan,” I’d begged again, shaking my head as my eyes flooded with tears. “Please don’t—”
“Don’t what?” He’d tilted his head, as if he were innocent, as if he didn’t know he was ripping my heart from my chest. “I’m protecting you, Ari. And the organization. You’ve been spreading yourself too thin lately. Besides, you don’t want sponsors thinking you’re too close to the beneficiaries. That wouldn’t be good for anyone. Especially not Georgie.”
And that was it — the veiled threat not so hidden any longer. He’d locked his eyes on me with the mention of my brother’s name, as if he were daring me to try him.
We’d eaten the rest of dinner in silence, and then Nathan had excused himself to meet an “important business colleague” downtown for drinks.
Which was how I ended up here, perched on the edge of our bed, staring at my hands like they belonged to someone else. Like they might listen if I silently willed them to fight, to run, to save me.
