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I can hear her breathing as she contemplates what I’m asking of her. When the man across the room holds up two fingers, she finally sighs.

“You’re Alexander O’Conner,” she reminds me in that stern voice that offers no room for argument. “You were one of the two hundred and twenty-four people drafted out ofhow many? And let’s not forget that only forty-nine percent of players drafted even see time on the ice. You’ve already played twenty-eight games. Twenty-nine, if you count the one you were penalized for part of the last period.”

My chest swells hearing her admit she knows how many times I’ve put my skates to good use. I didn’t let myself wonder ifshe watched my games or not because I figured she would have erased me from her life completely. And I wouldn’t have blamed her for one damn second if she decided I wasn’t worth even the smallest memory.

“I don’t think you need your ego stroked, but those statistics mean you’re obviously doing something right,” she adds, her tone a little softer than before. “People want to see you out there because they know you can get results. In your world, that means something. Because there’s always somebody better who can replace you in a heartbeat. You’re not a rookie anymore. You’re in it now. You’re exactly where you want to be.”

I’m not sure why that pierces my heart like that steak knife sliced my skin when I was younger. Maybe because her words don’t just apply to sports. Sure, another player who’s faster could take my place.

But somebody could easily walk into her life and take the spot I held in her heart for a long ass time. And it shouldn’t bother me that that’s true. Because I was the one who severed our connection. I was the one who let her walk away.

It was never going to be that deep for me. Not with you.

All lies, but she didn’t need to know that.

Just like she didn’t need to know that I’d gotten into my car and followed her at a snail’s pace to make sure she got back okay the night we parted ways. Or that I looked her up online a time or twenty to see what she was up to or if she’d started seeing anybody.

Every single time I saw one of the funny, dumb memes she shared or pictures she was tagged in by friends, I’d been relieved that there wasn’t a guy in any of them.

And that made me a real dick.

My attention is drawn to the man holding up one finger and telling me to wrap it up.

As if Olive senses our time is up, she hefts a sigh. “The only thing you need to focus on is being yourself. That’s what people want to see. I have no doubt you’ll win them over. It’s a trait I’ve always hated about you.”

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, hearing the hurt threaded around her words. “I’m—”

“Don’t,” she whispers, stopping the apology before it passes my lips. “I don’t want to hear it. It makes it easier to hate you.”

My throat bobs.

“And Alex?”

“Yeah?”

“Go fuck yourself” is her goodbye to me before ending the call.

I can’t help but smile a little, because there was no hostility in her tone when she said it.

“O’Conner,” the man says. “You’re up.”

I tuck the phone into my back pocket and roll my shoulders.

I’m Alexander O’Conner.

Not surprisingly, that does very little for me.

But hearing Olive say my name…

That carries me through.

CHAPTER FIVE

Olive

Smooshing the cutestlittle plump cheeks in until I’m rewarded with a toothy smile, I nuzzle my nose into my favorite pseudo-nephew’s stomach. He laughs, and the sound makes my chest all warm and fuzzy.

“You’re so good with him,” Skylar praises, propping her chin on her palm. “You’d make a great mom. And if they get your eyes, it’ll be the prettiest baby I’ve ever seen next to Bentley.”