“I hate to go now.” I release her and hug my mom, breathing in her familiar perfume.
“You need to.” Jemma pokes me in the side, right where she knows I’m ticklish. “You have to get your guy back.”
“Yeah.” I draw a deep breath, but my ribs feel compressed.The weight of what I’m about to attempt settles over me. “I’m going to try.”
It’s the best I can do, but I’ll do my best at it.
Chapter Thirty
Oliver
The puck flies across the ice, hitting the middle of the net with a soft thwack. I make a tight turn, hitting another puck, then another. The rhythm should be soothing—stick connecting with rubber, the scrape of my skates carving lines into fresh ice—but it’s not. It’s not as satisfying without anyone in my way, and for the first time in years, I find myself craving the chaos of a game, the deafening roars of the crowd drowning out my endless thoughts.
Here, alone in the rink before it’s even open, it’s impossible to ignore the memories sweeping over me. Devin and I laughing in her bed, her hair spilling across the pillow as she told me about the worst date she’d ever been on before me. The way she held me when I panicked in the hospital, her hand steady on my chest, her voice low and certain. Her face when I told her we were over—the hurt and the defeat, like I’d physically struck her.
My wrist throbs, but I grip the stick tighter, recover thepucks, and scatter them across the ice. The motion sends a fresh wave of pain up my forearm. I haven’t made it to the first one before the door opens, the sound echoing in the cavernous space.
Turning around, I start to tell the janitor—who I bribed with homemade cupcakes in order to get in here—that I just need another hour, but I stop short. It’s Niall on the other side of the plexiglass.
And he’s got that “let’s talk” face on.
Sighing, I skate over to the rink gate. “Hey.”
“You’re out and about early.”
“How did you know where to find me?” Now that I’ve stopped moving, my wrist has taken it as an invitation to completely give up. I can’t even close my fingers around the stick. The wooden handle slips from my grip, clattering against the boards. Stepping off the ice, I collapse on the closest bench.
“You only go a few places. I didn’t think I’d find you at the ballet school or senior citizens’ center.”
I snort. “Fair enough.”
He sits down next to me, both of us quiet as I unlace my skates. My fingers fumble with the knots, the swelling making even this simple task harder than it should be.
“I’m fine,” I say before he can even ask, pulling the first skate off and replacing it with a shoe. “I just needed to get out some excess energy.”
“How is playing on your wrist?”
It’s a rhetorical question. My wrist looks like it’s been attacked by a whole hive of bees.
“How about a walk?” Niall stands, not waiting for an answer. “You can get some energy out and give your wrist a break.”
“Sure.” I finish packing up my bag and stow it in the locker room before we head out into the windy morning.
The cold air hits my face immediately, sharp and bracing.With every step I take, there’s something to remind me of Devin. The bookstore where we got her a journal, the one with the navy cover and cream pages she kept touching like she couldn’t believe I’d noticed she needed one. The pizzeria where we found each other a second time. Rye Again, where we had our coffee date, where my hope in our love was rekindled.
That’s all gone now, scattered to the wind. She’s free to start a new life without the burden of lugging my dead weight around. Her family probably threw her a party the moment I left the resort.
I suck in a sharp breath. Speaking of...
She should be back home today.
The urge to call her is sudden and all-encompassing, my fingers twitching to find her name in my phone. I take a deep breath and keep walking. One step at a time. That’s all I need to do, just get through this moment... Then the one after that... and the one after that.
I can do it. What’s life anyway, but one stupid moment after another?
Niall breaks the silence. “I have a question.”
I side-eye him. We’re almost to the waterfront, and the cold wind calls to me, promising to sting my cheeks, a sweet pain that will help me forget everything I’ve lost.
