I follow her into the dim room. A low bedside lamp casts a warm glow against the blankets, and she sits on the edge ofthe bed with her knees drawn up. Arms wrapped around them, holding herself in place.
The bed dips as I sit down, leaving space between us, careful not to jostle the mattress. Silence stretches, but it doesn’t feel empty. It feels full, heavy with everything unsaid, everything still suspended in the air between us.
When I finally speak, my voice is low and tender.
“Have you known a while?”
Her lips part, but no words come. I glance over, and her jaw’s tight, as though she’s biting the words back. She finally nods, her gaze fixed on a frayed thread in the comforter.
“Just over a week, but I… It wasn’t the right time.”
“For what?” I ask gently. “Telling me?”
She breathes in shakily. “Yeah.”
My chest aches, but I nod, absorbing that without flinching as she continues.
“I didn’t want to derail you,” she says. “You’re in the playoffs, and you’ve worked so hard to get back. And this is—” Her voice splinters. “This is a mess.”
“It’s not a mess, Carina.”
“It feels like one.”
Her fingers are white-knuckled around her knees, and she still won’t look at me.
“We agreed this was no strings attached, no expectations,” she murmurs. “But this? This feels like a choice I’m forcing you to make, and it’s one I didn’t see coming.”
I nod, letting the quiet settle again.
“Just so we’re clear,” I say finally, “I’m not mad, and I’m not leaving… and I’m not here because I feel forced to.”
Her breath hitches at that, but there’s still no eye contact. I shift closer, just enough for my knee to brush the side of her ankle. I don’t reach for her yet, but fuck, I want to hold her.
“But it pisses me off,” I say softly, “that you thought I would.”
Her eyes finally lift to mine, fragile in a way I’ve never seen before. I pause, searching for the words that won’t come out clean.
“That you thought I’d be annoyed, or think this was some kinda trap. Like I wouldn’t want to show up for you because things get a little messy.” I glance down, huffing a breath. “That fucking kills me, Carina.”
She blinks once, holding back the weight of it all behind her lashes, but I don’t let her look away.
“You’re allowed to decide what happens next. That choice is yours, and I mean that.” My eyes coast down her face, then I meet hers again. “But don’t you dare think you need to carry this alone, or you have to protectmefrom the consequences. This didn’t just happen to you.Wedid this together. And whatever happens next—whatever you decide—I’m in it. I’m with you. But I need you to know that I would never walk away just because it’s not part of a perfect plan.”
I pause, the air in my lungs knotting with something heavy. “Because I don’t want to be anywhere else.”
She says nothing, but her lip trembles slightly, and her hands—still folded around her knees—are clenched so tight. I don’t reach for her, but I’m pretty fucking close. Instead, I let the words land, let her feel the truth of them before I offer more.
“You don’t have to want me,” I say softly. “You don’t owe me anything. But don’t shut me out just because you’re used to being the one who holds everything together.”
She swallows, her voice barely audible.
“You don’t get it.”
“Then help me understand.”
Her shoulders tense, folding in on herself, trying not to break.
“I didn’t think you’d disappear,” she says finally. “I just… I don’t want to be the thing that derails your life. Or scares you away, or makes you settle when it’s not what you want. You’reReid fucking Hutchison. You’ve got the playoffs, your hockey team, your life. I don’t want to be the thing that makes you stay against your will.”
