Sage stood just off to the side of the tunnel, half in the shadows, eyes locked on me like the rest of the world didn’t exist. Everything in me shifted direction.
“Sage—”
I hit her at full momentum, arms wrapping around her waist as I lifted her clean off her feet. She laughed, surprised and breathless as I spun her once, twice, the world blurring around us.
“Did you see that?” I said, words tumbling out, chest still heaving.
“Yes!” she laughed. “I saw it. You were amazing.”
I couldn’t stop grinning. My whole body was still in the game, still wired, still chasing that last second. “Did you see that last play?”
She nodded, breath catching. “I saw the last play.”
I set her down, my hands sliding up to her face, and I kissed her. It was hard and messy, all adrenaline and heat and the kind of reckless joy that doesn’t ask permission.
She kissed me back, but—
Something was off.
It was subtle, but I felt it.
I pulled back, breath still uneven, eyes searching hers. The noise of the tunnel started creeping back in around us.
“What’s going on?” I asked, the high in my chest dipping, something colder slipping in. “Did something happen?”
Her smile faltered just a fraction, confirming my suspicions. Something was wrong.
She took a breath, like she had to steady herself before she said it. “I got the scholarship.”
“Sage, that’s—” I grabbed her again, lifting her up without thinking, spinning her like the words hadn’t fully caught up with the moment yet. “That’s incredible!”
But this time, she didn’t laugh, and the tension in her body hit me mid-spin. I slowed, setting her back on her feet, my hands still on her arms as I looked at her properly.
“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” I asked.
She nodded. “Yeah.”
Relief tried to come, but it didn’t land. Not fully. Not with the way she was looking at me.
“They don’t have room in the program here in San Antonio,” she said then.
Something in my chest tightened, but I let her finish without interruption.
“The only place they have left is in New York City.”
“New York?”
It hit like a shift change I hadn’t seen coming. Fast. Disorienting. Knocking the air sideways in my lungs.
“I called them today,” she said. “And I told them I’m taking it.”
30
Sage
My living room felt too small for everything that had followed us inside it. Too much noise. Too much heat. Too many things unsaid that pressed against the walls as if they were trying to claw their way out.
Aiden stood in the middle of it, still in his Surge hoodie, hair damp from a rushed shower, looking like he’d come straight from the rink and forgotten how to breathe somewhere along the way.
