Page 141 of With the Assist

I start the car and pull out of the lot, leaving whatever is left of us where it belongs. Behind me.

38

Nathan

I’m in Seattle, three floors up in a hotel that smells like lemon cleaner and recycled air. I already know how this night is going to go.

We won the game. The guys are loud down the hall as someone knocks on the doors, while someone else yells into the rooms. I scored the winning goal, so I should be out there. I shut myself in anyway. They pestered me on the bus ride back to the hotel, but I said I was tired. Which is true, just not in the way they think.

I check my phone out of habit more than hope.

No new messages.

There’s a stupid part of me that keeps expecting her name to be there. But Wesley isn’t the type to wake up and undo this. She isn’t someone who would let her feelings get in the way of her plans, even if I wish she were.

I knew the second she got into her car that it was over.

I’d seen it in her eyes. It was the kind of resolve that’s useless to argue against. The decision was made, and now, a week and a half later, I still don’t know how to feel about it.

My mind does cartwheels trying to reason through it. It’d be easier if she felt nothing, then I could move on knowing that it was neversupposed to be anything anyway. But, she did feel something for me. It just wasn’t enough to change anything.

It didn’t matter that it was real or felt good. It didn’t matter that she wanted it.

What mattered was that whatever was between us had put her dreams at risk, and that was one thing she’d never compromise on. It was also the one thing I’d promised myself not to get in the way of.

I’ve been sick thinking about it.

The morning replayed in my head more than any bad shift on the ice ever had. Her voice had been sharp with panic. Her face was hollow when she told me she was late, like the ground was about to swallow her whole, and she was waiting for it to happen.

I didn’t make her miss it.

I didn’t turn off her alarm or ask her to stay.

But I was there. I was a part of it, and that was enough.

I strip out of my suit and stand under the shower longer than necessary, letting the water run hot until my skin turns red, and my thoughts blur at the edges. It doesn’t help. Nothing does. Not the noise of the water, not the quiet afterward, not the game film looping through my head instead of her smile.

I dry off, pull on sweats, sit on the edge of the bed, and check my phone again.

Still nothing.

Two days ago, I finally pestered Liam to ask Avery for information. He clocked me immediately, but did it anyway.

She was still going to camp in a couple of days.

My chest loosened at that. Relief and guilt tangled together so tight it made me nauseous. Relief because she hadn’t lost the thing she’s been building toward her entire life. Guilt because I knew exactly what it had cost her to make sure of that.

Me.

Takeout should be here any minute, but I’m not hungry. I ordered out of habit from the same burger place we always order from here. Ordering in was an excuse to not be around the team. I don’t have itin me to sit at a table pretending to care about the game or the gossip. Though sitting alone with the truth I can’t say out loud, isn’t much better.

It’s taken everything in me not to text her or show up at the stadium. I woke up before seven every day this week. It was the universe’s cruel way of reminding me that I no longer have anywhere I need to be at that time. I don’t even know when it became so natural, but it had.

What kills me is that I’d already started planning. I’d thought about how we could make it work around flights, camps, and games. My mind got caught up in it all as ifI hadn’t known from the beginning exactly how it would end.

I check my phone one last time before tossing it on the bed in frustration.

This is fucking embarrassing.