I scoff. “A mistake? From where I'm standing, you chose hockey over me. And you chose iteasily. Just like Brett said you would.”
“Your brother doesn't know what he's talking about.”
Tears burn behind my eyes. “Hockey is your girlfriend, Cole. Your mistress. There's no room for anyone else, and I was stupid to think there could be.”
“Harper, please.”
But I'm already walking toward the guest room, my decision made. “The movers will be here in an hour. I'll be out of your way soon.”
“This isn't over,” he calls after me.
I pause in the doorway, not turning around. “Yes, it is.”
In the guest room, I throw my belongings into suitcases with shaking hands. Each item feels like evidence of how foolish I've been. The Renegades t-shirt he gave me, the book I was reading in his bed, the expensive face cream he bought for me.
I was so stupid to think this could work. To think I could have both love and success, that I could build something real with Cole Maddox.
When the movers arrive, Cole tries one more time. “Harper, don't do this. We can figure it out together.”
I look at him standing in his designer apartment, still in his team-issued workout gear, and I see the gulf between us clearly for the first time. This man lives for hockey, while I live for Hayes & Company Events.
“Some things can't be figured out, Cole. Some things are just impossible.”
I walk out of his apartment and don't look back, even though every instinct in my body screams at me to turn around.
I choose this. I choose to protect what's left of my career, my independence, my sense of self.
24
Cole
The locker room is quieter than usual, heavy with the weight of what tonight means. This is it. The game that determines whether we make the playoffs or watch from home like every other year. We've worked like devils all season, pushing through injuries, losses, and media distractions.
We can't lose now.
Harper slips into my mind despite my efforts to keep her out. Will she come to the game? She's been buried in planning our season awards gala. I've texted her, called her, even gone by her office once, but I was told she wasn't in.
It's painful as hell to realize she's completely given up on us as quickly as she has. It’s only been a week since the news of our relationship hit the tabloids. And to think she's shoved me out of her life while every day, every night, she's all I can think about is torture.
But I can't think about Harper now. I have a game to win.
I'd been hoping my mother would show up for this game, but she texted me this morning that something had come up with one of my step-siblings and she couldn't make it. Oh well. I'm used to disappointment.
“You look like someone stole your puppy,” Nova says, dropping onto the bench beside me. For once, his usual cocky grin is replaced by genuine concern. “What's eating you, Cap?”
I don't answer, just continue taping my stick with mechanical precision.
“You let management bully you into losing someone you loved,” he says quietly.
I look up, surprised by his serious tone.
“I saw the way you were when Harper was around,” he continues. “You actually smiled. Laughed. You were human instead of this hockey robot we're used to.”
Before I can respond, Coach Mercer’s voice booms through the locker room. “Time to go, boys. Let's make some history.”
We file down the tunnel and onto the ice for warm-ups. The crowd is deafening, eighteen thousand fans on their feet, desperate for a playoff berth. I go through my usual routine. Practice shots, passing drills, but my eyes drift to the family section.
No Harper. Why did I even check?
