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“I’m sorry.”

“You keep saying that.” She sat down and picked up her stylus. Her hands were still shaking. “Sorry doesn’t fix it. Sorry doesn’t make me trust you again. Sorry is just a word you’re saying because you feel bad, not because you actually understand what you did.”

“Then tell me what I did so I can fix it.”

“No.” She looked up, and her eyes were red but dry. “I’m not going to do your emotional labor for you. I’m not going to explain how you hurt me so you can feel better about apologizing. Figure it out yourself.”

“Ellie—”

“Dr. Lundrig. And I want you to leave.”

I stood there, useless. All the words I’d practiced on the way evaporated under the weight of her gaze.

“You were right,” she said. “This was a bad idea. We should’ve kept it professional. I have work to do. I asked you to leave.”

I sighed and walked out of her office because staying would only make it worse.

The door clicked shut behind me, final as a coffin lid.

I stood in the hallway, staring at the closed door, my palms pressed against my thighs.

I’d come here to apologize. To explain. I’d planned to find some way to un-fuck what I’d broken.

Instead, I’d proved her right.

This was a bad idea. We should’ve kept it professional.

I heard those words in my head all the way to my truck. All the way home to my empty apartment where the instruction sheets still sat on my coffee table and my phone still showed no new messages.

I sat on the couch and stared at the laminated paper. Her handwriting. Her belief. The smiley faces she’d drawn because she’d thought I was worth encouraging.

She’d seen something in me I’d never seen in myself. Something beyond the saves and the wins and the brutal reputation.

And I’d thrown it back at her because I was too fucking scared to believe it might be real.

I traced her handwriting with my thumb.

I didn’t know how to fix this. But for the first time in my life, I knew I had to try.

I pulled out my phone and opened a new note.

Ways I Made Ellie Feel Like She Didn’t Matter:

I started typing. Every moment I could remember where I’d reduced her to what she could do for me instead of seeing who she was. The list got long fast.

When I finished, I stared at it, my stomach churning.

This was what I’d done. This was who I’d been.

Now I had to figure out how to become someone different, a person who deserved a second chance.

Even if I never got one.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

ELLIE

My favorite gray blazer lay on my bed. On my first day at the facility, I’d buttoned it up and thought I’d looked competent. Ready to face the hockey world. It turns out I couldn’t armor-plate my way through a seven-foot orc who knew exactly where I was soft.