Page 64

When I sit, he doesn’t speak. He waits...a few feet away.

The silence stretches until I can’t stand it anymore.

"I’m scared."

My voice cracks, brittle and broken.

He sits beside me, careful not to crowd me. His presence is warm and grounding.

"Of what?"

I stare at the rippling water. "Of failing. Of not being good enough. Of becoming someone I don’t recognize just to meet everyone else’s expectations."

He doesn’t answer, so I keep going. "My parents don’t say it out loud, but I can see it. They want another success story. Allison was the wild one. Now she’s the married one, the settled one. And I’m the one who’s supposed to make good on everything. But I feel like I’m drowning."

My hands shake in my lap. "And when I’m with you... it feels good. Too good. Like I’m forgetting the pressure. Like I’m losing myself in you. And I’m scared that one day I’ll wake up and I won’t know who I am anymore. Just a player's girlfriend. A footnote. A notch on his belt."

He’s quiet for a long moment. Then he says, voice low but fierce, "You really think I see you as a notch on my belt? That’s messed up and ridiculous... and insulting."

I close my eyes. "I guess not. I just know I can’t afford to lose myself. Not when I’ve worked so hard to get here."

He shifts beside me, and I feel the heat of his hand as he gently touches my knee. "Mandy. Look at me."

I do.

His voice is low and raw. "I don’t want you to disappear into me. I want to stand beside you. To watch you become whoever the hell you’re meant to be, and cheer so damn loud when you do."

Tears flood my eyes. He doesn’t flinch.

"You think I’ve got it easy. That hockey is just skating and scoring and no stakes. But I’ve been traded. Injured. Dropped into cities where I don’t know anyone. And you know what scares me the most?"

I shake my head.

He leans closer. "Never having something real to lose."

My pulse kicks up hard.

"I’ve never had someone I was terrified to screw things up with," he says. "Until now."

The tears spill over, hot and silent.

He doesn’t move to kiss me.

He just cups my cheek and brushes a tear away with his thumb.

"You’re not alone in this. Not anymore."

That’s what breaks me.

I press my face into his shoulder and let myself cry. For the pressure. For the fear. For all the ways I’ve been trying to be strong for too long.

He holds me. Quietly. Steadily.

No jokes. No lines.

Just him.

Just Nate.