Page 159 of Only Ever You

I ball my fist, my eyes stinging.

“I’m proud of you, kid,” he continues. “Whatever comes next, remember who you are. Remember what you’ve already achieved and focus on what you want to achieve in the future. Don’t let the noise touch that.”

I nod, even though he can’t see it. “Thanks, Dad.”

The second I hang up, Isla’s arms are wrapped around my torso, her cheek resting against my back.

“Everything’s going to change,” she whispers, her voice going right through me.

“Yeah.”

A tight knot forms in my chest. Not only is my life about to change, but this life we’ve just begun creating together will too. That’s the part I’m not ready to think about.

“Michael, we need to talk.”

I nod.

“Can you please turn around?”

I do as she tells me, head hanging, and wind my hands around her waist. She’s so small and fragile right now, looking at me with her deep blue eyes full of intensity. “We’re both standing on the edge of something huge. I’m flying to France, and then I’ll go to nationals. Then, there’s Four Continents. Maybe Worlds. And I’ve only started college.”

The tightness in my chest turns painful. I already know where this is going, and I hate it. I hate that she’s right. Because how do we make this work? Me in New York. Her in Paris. Then nationals. Training camps. Games. Flights. Different time zones.

We’re about to live two completely different lives.

And while I don’t doubt us, the timing sucks.

I nod slowly. “I know.”

“I’ve always believed in you, Michael. I know you’re going to be incredible. The NHL won’t know what hit it.” Her voice wavers, her eyes welling with tears. “And I don’t want to be the thing that pulls your focus away from that.” She places her hand over my heart, which is currently thundering in my chest. “You won’t be here. I can’t be in New York. We’ll be controlled by clocks, flying to and from different airports.” Her fingers curl into my shirt. “And I know it’s true that if you want something enough, you’ll make it work. But I’m afraid if we do this now, we’ll only become another pressure point in each other’s already high-pressure lives.”

“I don’t want to lose you—” My voice fails me at the end of the sentence, my lungs nearly incapable of inflating.

“I know,” she whispers. “But I don’t want to be the reason you’re exhausted or distracted or feeling like you’re failing because you’re trying to be where you’re supposed to be while making time for me too.” She presses her forehead to my chest, and a sob escapes her. “And I don’t think you’d want me to feel that way either.”

Fuck. It hurts so damn much.

“So what are we doing?” I ask quietly, pressing her tighter against me.

“We’re not breaking up,” she says. “We’re not pretending this doesn’t matter.”

“A pause then?” I ask, the words barely making their way out.

“A pause.”

I plant a kiss on the top of her head, breathing her in like I’ll need the memory later. “This isn’t goodbye, baby,” I whisper.

She tilts her head up, her eyes shining with tears. “No. It’s just a ‘see you later.’”

I cover her lips with mine, desperate to lose myself in her. To forget about what happens next, even if only for a while.

Because even though we found each other…we’re yet again living in the wrong timeline.

Her flight leaves from gate twenty. Mine leaves from seventeen.

The two of us stand in front of gate eighteen, her arms circled around my torso, mine looped around her back. We talk about everything. Anything. Like we’re trying to talk for months ahead.

I don’t want to leave her.