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My brow furrows as I rack my brain for an answer that has to be buried somewhere. The temptation to bring up Google and search him has me closing out the message thread and opening up a new window. But as I type in his name, I feel like I owe him my honesty.

I want to say April.

Nope.

Well, are you going to tell me?

Nope.

A single laugh bubbles from my chest.

Okay, try me with another.

All right, last chance, Hart.

Butterflies swirl in my stomach. Why the fuck do I find something I played back in junior school so damn exciting? This is the sum of what my life has become.

Jack

What was my last name before I changed it?

I roll my eyes and type out a response.

Me

Give me a little credit. Thompson, obviously.

Good girl.

One more since that was so damn easy.

Last one, and then I have to go to skate.

Hit me with it. Give me your best.

I take a seat on the bench and hold my breath while I watch him type.

Jack

Why did we wait so long to start speaking?

My thumbs hover over my keyboard as the few very faintmemories I have of Jack in college play like a carousel in my mind. Most of them are of him on the ice or the look he would throw Tyler or his friends from across the room.

As the slideshow continues, it finally stops on one moment I was aware of at the time, but never thought—or allowed myself to think—much more about it.

I was playing in a game when my knee gave out. I was in my third year, and it was the second time in my college career it had happened. The trainer wrapped it, and when the final whistle went, everyone headed back to the clubhouse.

I stayed sitting on the bench for a while longer, staring out at the pitch and trying to figure out how long I’d be out this time.

In that moment, I felt pretty desperate. It was a game Tyler had promised me he’d come to since he wasn’t busy with hockey, but he hadn’t shown.

The one person who had? Jack.

My attention was drawn to a guy on the other side of the pitch, wearing a college baseball cap and jacket. I knew it was Jack, but I assumed he was here for someone else.

So, why was he still there when everyone else had gone inside?

I wanted to head over and ask him what he was doing here, but the second I rose from the bench, Tyler’s voice filtered from behind me.