"Then at least you'll know." Volkov squeezed his shoulder once more before letting go. "Right now, you're in limbo. Suffering because you're imagining the worst but refusing to find out for certain. Get rejected, and you can start healing. But don't reject yourself on her behalf. That's not fair to either of you."
Tarmek stared at the floor between his skates.
His whole life, he'd been taught that control was strength. That discipline led to success. That emotions were liabilities to be managed, not expressed.
And it had worked. He'd built a career on that foundation, achieved everything he'd set out to achieve.
But control couldn't make Edie stay.
Discipline couldn't fill the empty space she'd left.
Success meant nothing if he had no one to share it with.
You let your mate walk out because you were scared to ask her to stay.
The realization didn't just hit him—it destroyed him. Cracked open something deep in his chest and let all the carefully contained feelings flood out at once. Fear and longing and regret and love, love, the word he'd been refusing to think because thinking it made it real, and real meant it could be lost.
He loved her.
He loved her chaos and her laughter and the way she left coffee mugs everywhere like she was marking territory. He loved her art and her stubborn spirit and the way she'd looked at him like he was something worth knowing. He loved the way she'd started putting things back where they belonged, not because she wanted to change herself but because she wanted to take care of him.
He loved her, and he'd let her walk away.
"Shit," he breathed.
"Yeah," Kowalski agreed. "That about sums it up."
Tarmek stood abruptly, nearly knocking Dmitri off the bench.
"Where are you going?" Makron asked.
"To find her."
"Now? Practice isn't officially?—"
"I don't care."
The words felt foreign in his mouth—Tarmek Stonefist, captain of the Emerald Enforcers, saying he didn't care about practice. But he meant them. For the first time in his professional career, hockey could wait.
Edie couldn't.
"Go," Volkov said, a small smile cracking his weathered face. "And Stonefist? Actually use your words this time. Full sentences. Feelings. The whole thing."
Tarmek was already moving towards the door.
"And maybe shower first!" Kowalski called after him. "You smell like desperation and regret!"
He ignored them all.
Because Edie was somewhere in this building, working on her mural, probably convincing herself that he didn't want her—and he had to fix that.
He had to fix everything.
Even if it meant doing the thing that terrified him most.
Tell her.
The locker room door slammed behind him, and for the first time in days, Tarmek felt something other than hollow grief.
