Late nights. Deep conversations. Laughing effortlessly.
And the contract. Communication. Being open.
My gaze flicks to her neck.
No collar.
My heart thumps in my chest. She’s still staring at me, perfectly in character. As if she doesn’t know me. Like we’ve never spoken.
Everything I thought I understood about her, and about us, has been a lie.
But she’s not getting away that easily.
Violet and I are going to have a little heart-to-heart. Only this time, I want to speak with Solace.
The morning feels too bright. I’m sitting on the edge of the bed in my hotel room, phone in my hand, as my thumb hovers over Violet’s contact.
Still nothing.
No replies. No read receipts. No returned phone calls.
I try again anyway.
It rings twice and goes straight to voicemail.
My jaw tightens, and I hang up before her automated message can finish the greeting.
If Violet wants to disappear, that’s fine because she’s clearly good at it. But I’m not done with her yet.
I drop my phone onto the bed beside me and drag both hands over my face, trying to wipe away the restless knot I keep feeling behind my ribs.
A sharp knock on my door jolts me out of this hell I’ve been living in since last night.
“Skye. Bus in ten,” Paige shouts.
Right. Hockey. That’s why I’m here.
I glare at my phone before I grab it, tossing it into the bottom of my bag where I can’t think about it.
I’m here for a reason, and it’s time that I follow through with that.
Violet and Solace will have to wait.
“LET’S GO!!!!” Paige yells beside me, jumping on me as I stand by the net. We’re at the arena for media and interviews, but the high from yesterday is still heavy on our jackets. “FINALS BABY!”
I laugh despite myself, my heart keeps racing. For a few minutes, everything is perfect. We had a shutout game yesterday, and we’re heading to the next level. The final level.
The gold medal is within reach, and I won’t stop until I have it.
Paige and I exchange a look that tells me it was damn close with me almost own-goaling and putting it at a tied game in the beginning, but we don’t talk about it. We simply celebrate the outcome and ignore what could have been.
The media swarms as soon as they’re let into the arena. Cameras shoved in our faces and microphones flying everywhere.
“Skye. Skye. Over here.”
“How does advancing to the gold medal game feel?”
“What was going through your mind during that first play?”
