She tries to shake her head, tries to argue, but her face crumples like the fight runs out of her.
And that’s the moment it hits me—how much she’s been holding alone.How long she’s believed love is something you lose if you ask for too much.I slide closer without crossing the pillow wall.I don’t touch her yet.I just let my voice do the work.
“Vesper,” I say, steadying myself on her name, “you didn’t ruin us.We did.We took something beautiful and got scared of it.We hurt each other because it was easier than admitting we wanted more.”
Her lips tremble.“And now?”
My chest aches at the question, because now is everything.
Now there’s her and a baby.
I swallow.“Now we have to do it differently.Fix what happened and learn from our mistakes if the three of us want to be happy—become a family.”
Vesper lets out a sound that could be a laugh, could be a sob.“That’s a bold statement.”
“I’m a bold guy,” I say softly, and then I let myself be honest in the way that scares me.“And I don’t want to lose you again.”
Her eyes shine.“Cally ...”
“I know,” I whisper.“I know it’s terrifying.I know it’s complicated.I know you’re going to want to run because running is what you do when you care.”
“If you love each other,” she says, voice tight, “why not stay together?Why the rivalry?”
Because we turned love into competition and called it survival.Because we made the world believe it was about hockey when it was about heartbreak.Because it’s easier to hate someone than admit you miss them—you love them—when the world wouldn’t understand.
I shift a little, and the pillow between us feels like an accusation.
“We didn’t know how,” I say.“Men together isn’t a good brand in sports—especially hockey.Then you have Monty who doesn’t do closeness unless he can control it.”
“I thought,” she says, “you were both happier hating each other.Like it made things simpler.”
“Nope.
Her eyes search mine.“So why didn’t you fix it?”
I swallow, and the truth tastes like something I don’t want to admit.“Because I chose you and my career.If I tried anything and he rejected me ...I didn’t know how to balance my love for you, the game and ...him.”
She winces in sympathy.
“Also, I didn’t want to reach for him and get shoved away again,” I add.“I didn’t want to be the fool begging for a friendship or a love he didn’t want.”
Her voice is quiet.“Did he shove you away?”
“He acted like I was the mistake,” I say.“Like I was the thing that ruined everything.And I told myself I didn’t care.I told myself I could live without him.And maybe one day you’d choose me.”I let out a breath.“And then it turned into a rivalry because ...if I’m honest, it was easier to be mad at him than to miss him.”
Vesper’s eyes soften, and that softness almost ruins me.
“Oh, Cally,” she says gently, “you’re such a dumbass.”
I huff a laugh, because I deserve it.“I know.”
“Do you still love him?”she asks.
“I thought I didn’t,” I begin, then sigh, adding, “But since we moved to Portland I realized I never stopped.I used the loathing to fight my feelings for him.”
Her eyes don’t widen like she’s shocked.They narrow like she’s been waiting for me to stop lying.
“And you love me,” she says, as if she’s testing the words.
