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“I spent weeks with your hands on me, Ellie.” He wasn’t looking at me anymore, but staring at the floor like the words were being dragged out of him. “Weeks watching you arrive early and stay late. Weeks of you believing I could heal when I didn’t believe it myself.”
“My name is—”
“No.” His eyes met mine. “You don’t get to Dr. Lundrig me right now.”
“What do you want from me?”
“Everything. I want everything.”
“You can’t have it.”
“Why not?”
“Because you already threw it away!” The words came faster, louder, ten months of swallowed-down feelings erupting all at once. “You made me feel like I was only valuable for what I could do. Like fixing you was the only thing I was good for.”
“I did.” His voice was barely above a whisper.
“And the worst part? I already believed it. I’ve always believed it. I’m not useful. I’m not worth keeping. You just confirmed it.” Tears streamed down my face. “So Denver makes sense. It’s a new city, a fresh start, and a chance to prove my worth to people who already see it.”
“I see all of it, Ellie. Every single piece of you. That’s the problem.”
“That’s not a problem.”
“It is when you think you’re only worth what you can do.” His hand lifted, hovering near my face, not quite touching. “It is when I’m terrified that the second you figure out I’m just a weapon in the net, you’ll realize you deserve better.”
“I already know you’re not just a weapon.”
“Do you?” His voice dropped to barely above a whisper. “Because I’ve spent my whole life being told that’s all I am. If I can’t do that, I disappear.”
My throat closed up. Because I understood.
“I built my whole identity on being competent,” I said. “On being the person who arrives early and stays late and never needs help because needing help means admitting I might not be enough on my own.”
“You’re more than enough.”
“So are you.” The words came out fierce. “You’re the male who laminated instruction sheets. Who asks if I’ve eaten breakfast. Who sends ice photos at 9:41 every single night because you wanted me to trust you. You’re the person who buys sandwiches for strangers and shows up fourteen minutes early. You made me believe I was only valuable for fixing you, and I made you believe you were only valuable for stopping pucks. We’re both wrong.”
His hand finally touched my face, his palm warm against my cheek, his thumb finding the freckle at my temple.
“I see all of you,” he said. “The competence and the late nights and the research. But I also see the woman who wears my hoodie like it means something.”
“It does mean something.”
“I know.” His forehead touched mine. “That’s why I’m terrified.”
I grabbed the front of his shirt, trying to shake him, but his feet had been solidly planted on the floor. “Why did you hurt me?”
“Because I’m broken,” he said against my lips. “I thought if I pushed you away first, it would hurt less when you figured out I’m nothing outside of hockey. That’s all I’ve ever been.”
I pulled back to look at him. Tears tracked down his cheeks. His face crumpled, his mouth twisting and his eyes squeezing shut like he couldn’t bear to look at me while admitting it.
“You’re such a fucking fool.”
I pulled him down and kissed him.
He made a soft sound. I turned and backed him into the wall, and he opened his mouth and let me in.
The kiss was teeth and tusks and tongue and too many days of wanting and being afraid to want.
