This was none of those things.
This was hollow.
Dark circles shadowed his eyes, visible even from across the room. His skin looked ashen, lacking its usual healthy warmth. And his eyes—those intense dark eyes that had always tracked her with such fierce attention—were flat. Distant. Like someone had turned off a light inside him.
What happened to you?
"He's been like that for days."
Edie startled. She hadn't realized Sam was still beside her.
"Like what?"
"Don't play dumb, honey. It doesn't suit you." Sam sipped her champagne, watching Tarmek with a concerned frown. "The boys are worried. He's barely sleeping, playing like garbage—which, by the way, I wasn't supposed to tell you—and when he's not at practice or games, he's just... existing. Going through the motions." She paused. "It started right after you moved out."
No.
Edie's chest tightened. That couldn't be right. Tarmek had practically pushed her out the door. He'd fixed her camper and kept it secret. He'd told her it was ready whenever she wanted it—code for please leave so I can have my space back.
Hadn't he?
"He seemed relieved when I left," Edie said, hating how small her voice sounded.
Sam turned to look at her, eyebrows climbing towards her hairline. "Relieved? That man has been haunting the halls of the arena like a lovesick ghost. He walked past the mural three times yesterday. Stood there staring at it for ten minutes before practice. If that's relief, I'd hate to see devastation."
No. No, no, no.
"He didn't ask me to stay."
"Did you give him a chance?"
The question hit Edie like a slap. She opened her mouth to argue—of course she had, she'd practically waited for it, hoped for it—but the words died in her throat.
Had she?
Or had she been so busy running, so determined to leave before she got hurt, that she'd never actually stopped long enough to let him speak?
The camper's ready whenever you want it.
She'd heard goodbye. But what if he'd meant something else entirely?
Across the room, Tarmek finally escaped his circle of sponsors. He moved towards the bar with the mechanical precision of someone following a predetermined path, and Edie tracked his progress with her heart in her throat.
He looked so tired.
Not the usual athletic exhaustion he wore after a hard practice, but something deeper. Bone-weary. Soul-weary. Like he was carrying a weight that had nothing to do with physical exertion.
And then he saw her.
The moment their eyes met, something in his expression cracked. Just for a second—a flash of raw hunger and desperate longing that made Edie's breath catch—before his face smoothed back into careful neutrality.
But she'd seen it.
She'd seen it.
Oh god. He wasn't relieved. He was?—
"Go talk to him," Sam said quietly. "Put us all out of our misery."
