I stood there in the empty rink. Alone. Staring at the spot where she'd been. But it was easier than admitting the truth. That I'd crawl across broken glass to touch her again. That I'd burn my entire career down just to hear her say my name one more time. That watching her kiss Nate had damn near killed me—and I had no right to feel that way.
None.
I picked up the pucks. One by one. Methodical.
And I told myself tomorrow would be different.
But we both knew it was a lie.
I was halfwaythrough logging the day's stats when the door to my office slammed open.
She stood in the doorway, chest heaving, still in her practice gear. Sweat-damp hair plastered to her temples. Eyes blazing.
"I'm done."
I didn't look up from my clipboard. "Then get out."
"You want to bench me?" Her voice cut through the silence like a blade. "Do it. But stop pretending I don't exist."
My pen stilled. I raised my eyes slowly, met hers across the small office.
She looked wrecked. Exhausted. Furious.
Beautiful.
"Fine." I tossed the clipboard onto the desk. "You're benched. Saturday's game. You sit."
The color drained from her face.
I watched it happen—the fire in her eyes flickering, dimming. Her shoulders sagged just slightly, like I'd landed a body check she hadn't seen coming.
"Please don't."
And that was when her voice cracked.
Not much. Just a hairline fracture in all that armor she wore. But I heard it. Felt it like a punch to the gut.
She swallowed hard. Looked away. Then back at me.
"I can't do this." Her hands curled into fists at her sides. "Nate won't leave me alone. He's watching me. Waiting for me to screw up so he can—" She stopped. Shook her head. "And you won't even look at me."
I stood. Slow. Deliberate. "What do you want me to say, Donovan?"
"I want you to stop punishing me for something I didn't choose."
"You chose to kiss him."
"I chose to protect you." Her voice rose, sharp and raw. "Because if anyone finds out what happened between us, you're done. Not me.You."
Silence crashed down between us.
"He doesn't know?—"
"He suspects," she said. She took a step closer. Then another. Until she was standing right in front of my desk, close enough that I could smell the ice still clinging to her skin. "I'm barely hanging on," she whispered. "I can't have him circling me like a shark and you treating me like I'm nothing. I can't do both."
My jaw clenched. Hands balled into fists. "You're not nothing."
"Then why does it feel like I am?"
