I smiled. “Until you leave too.” My voice was soft. “You graduate this year, what’s your plan for after?”
His whole face changed, lit up from the inside, that competitive fire I saw on the ice bleeding into his features. “Going pro,” he said simply. “That’s the goal. Always has been.”
“You’re good enough.”
“I know.” No false modesty. Just confidence, earned through years of early mornings and late practices and sacrifices I couldn’t even imagine. “There are some scouts coming to games this season. My coach thinks I have a real shot at getting drafted.”
“Owen, that’s amazing.”
“It’s not a sure thing. Nothing ever is. But yeah.” He took a sip of his beer, his smile turning almost shy. “But, for the first time, it actually feels possible.”
He talked about his dreams, the teams he would love to play for, the cities he’d considered, the way his whole body seemed to vibrate with energy when he described what it would feel like to step onto NHL ice for the first time. His passion was infectious, pulling me in, making me believe in it right alongside him.
But somewhere beneath the excitement, a colder realization was settling into my bones.
“It sounds like we’re on two different paths,” I said quietly.
Owen’s expression flickered. “What do you mean?”
“You’re going pro. I’m transferring.” I shrugged, trying to make it sound casual when it felt anything but. “Those paths probably don’t... intersect.”
He was quiet for a moment, his thumb tracing the condensation on his beer bottle. When he spoke, his voice was softer than before. “Who knows what the future holds?”
It wasn’t an answer. Not really. But the way he looked at me when he said it, like he was asking me to trust him, to believe in us, made my throat tight.
“I’ve been thinking about how to tell Jax,” he said.
My stomach clenched. “Oh.”
“I think I should do it face-to-face. Not over the phone or through text.” He leaned forward, elbows on the table. “I was thinking we could wait until winter break. When we go up there to visit. I can sit down with him, man to man, and…”
“Wait. You want to wait until winter break?”
“I mean, it’s only a few weeks away, and it feels like the kind of conversation that should happen in person, you know?”
A few more weeks of sneaking around. A few more weeks of pretending in public that we were just friends.
“Harlow?” Owen’s voice had gone careful, concerned. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“That’s not a nothing face. That’s a something face. A very specific something face that you’re trying to hide and failing at.”
I huffed out a laugh. “I’m not failing.”
“You are. I can practically see the thought bubbles over your head.” He reached across the table, his fingers finding mine.“Talk to me. We don’t have to wait if you don’t want to. I just thought…”
“No, it’s not that.” I stared at our intertwined fingers, at the way his hand completely engulfed mine, and tried to figure out how to say what I was actually feeling. “I just... what happens if Jax says no?”
Owen blinked. “Says no?”
“To us. To this.” I gestured vaguely at the space between us. “What if…” I paused, taking a deep breath. “What if he makes you choose between him and me. I would never want you to have to choose between…”
I couldn’t finish. Couldn’t say the fears that had been gnawing at me for weeks, that Owen’s loyalty to Jax ran deeper than anything. That if forced to choose, I wasn’t sure which way he would land.
When I finally looked up, he was smirking.
“What?” I demanded.
