This was the first time that seeing her felt different.
I felt…nothing.
Well, not nothing. But not what I expected. Not that hollow ache that’s lived in my chest for five years. No hit of adrenaline. No punch to the chest. Just… a blank space where it used to hurt.
She’s still the same. Still works the same job. Still looks the same. Smiles that same smile.
Have I changed?
I think so. I’m just not sure when it happened. Maybe when I left Edmonton. Or when Vanessa left me. Maybe when I met Summer. Probably somewhere in between.
It’s not just one moment. It’s a slow shift you don’t notice until you’re standing on the other side of it and realize everything is different.
I barely recognize the old me anymore.
When I saw Vanessa, we exchanged a wave from down the hall, and all I could think about was what Summer said about being in love:I thought I was, but now I’m not so sure.
I know I loved Vanessa when we were together, but I don’t think that version of me exists anymore. It’s strange how you can feel so deeply for someone and still end up strangers. And maybe that’s not always a bad thing.
But my stomach sinks at the thought of that separation happening with Summer. How long after she leaves? How long would it take for her to stop feeling like an integral part of me?
I don’t want to think about it.
My phone sits on the nightstand, screen dark. It’s almost midnight here, which makes it nearly one in Chicago. She’s probably asleep.
I reach for it, anyway, pull up her contact, and press FaceTime.
The call rings three times. I’m about to hang up when she answers.
“Miles?” Her voice is soft; she’s definitely in bed. I can barely make out her face in the dark room.
“I didn’t wake you, did I?”
“No.” The sheets rustle as she sits up, then a light clicks on. She’s in my bed—or is itoursnow? Either way, she looks good in it.
“Everything okay?” She adjusts the phone, bringing her face a little closer to the screen.
“Yeah. Everything’s fine. Sorry for calling so late.”
We’ve fallen into a routine of talking every night when I’m on the road. It grounds me in the same way her pre-game texts do. She hasn’t missed one. But I already spoke to her earlier, and I’m not in the habit of bugging her multiple times a night.
She props the phone against a pillow and snuggles into the bed. It’s the same view I’d have if I were home, lying next to her. “Why’re you still up?”
Because I can’t sleep. Because I keep thinking about you. Because I’m in a hotel room, and all I want is to be home.
“Can’t sleep.”
“Me neither.” I hear Grace purring in the background. “Gracie says hi. She’s very upset you’re not here.”
“Just Grace?” A smile tugs at my lips, and at Summer’s shrug, I add, “Tell her I’ll be home soon.”
“She’s not impressed.”
We fall into silence, but it’s comfortable. Just her breathing on the other end of the line.
“How was the studio today?” I never got a chance to ask her earlier.
“Better, actually.” There’s something different in her voice, not quite excitement, but close. “We still have some tough days, but for the most part, things are falling into place, I think.”
