Page 118 of Ice Cold Chemistry
“She won’t talk to me.”
“Then figure out how to make her listen.” Dana’s voice softens slightly. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on between you two personally, and frankly, I don’t want to know. But I’ve watched you both over the past few weeks. Whatever started as fake didn’t stay that way. Unless you’re the world’s best actor, you care about her. And she obviously cares about you too. That’s worth fighting for.”
“What if I already lost it?”
“Then at least you’ll know you tried.” She stands, signaling the end of the meeting. “Now get out of my office and go be useful. And Banks?”
“Yeah?”
“Whatever happens with the trade talks—and yes, I know about that too—don’t let it be an excuse. You’re still a Knight until you’re not. Act likeit.”
The rest of the day passes in a blur. I try to talk to Logan after the afternoon session, but he brushes me off with a mumbled, “Not now, man,” and disappears before I can explain. I try to catch Archer’s eye in the weight room, but he’s focused on his reps, deliberately avoiding my gaze.
The team is a unit, and I’ve been cut out of it.
I’ve felt this before—the isolation, the sense of being on the outside looking in. It happened in Detroit, before the trade. It happened in Tampa, during the trade. That slow erosion of belonging, the way people pull back when they sense trouble, when they decide you’re not worth the investment.
I thought New York was different. I thought I’d finally found a place that felt like home.
Turns out I was wrong. Again. It hurts even more than I expected it to.
My phone buzzes. For a split second, my heart leaps—Winnie, maybe she’s finally responding to my last text—but it’s Rick, my agent. Probably with more bad news about the contract.
I don’t answer.
Instead, I sit in my car in the parking garage, engine off, staring at nothing.
Three days ago, I had a woman who wanted to love me, teammates who respected me, and a career that felt stable.
Now Winnie won’t speak to me, the team thinks I’m a liar, and I might be shipped across thecountry before the month is out.
I’m losing everything.
Again.
Just like I always knew I would.
This is why I don’t let people in. I was right to be afraid. I just wish being right didn’t feel so much like dying.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Stay
Winnie
The email arrives on Friday morning. I almost miss it, buried under a pile of spam and promotional newsletters. But the subject line catches my eye:Opportunity with Seattle Storm Athletics - Flexibility Program Director.
I click it open.
It’s a job offer. A real one. Apparently, word of the Knights’ improved injury metrics has spread through the league grapevine, and Seattle wants to poach me. They’re offering a director position—not just instructor, but full program oversight. More money. More responsibility. A chance to build something from the ground up.
Three thousand miles from New York.
Three thousand miles from Banks.
A week ago, I would have deleted this without a second thought. Now I read it three times, imagining a different life. A fresh start. No messy entanglements, no broken hearts, no man who can’t let himself be loved.
I close my laptop without responding.
