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T he night Lotte’s world imploded, Coach Harris told me she needed time and politely issued an impolite warning to stay the fuck away from his daughter’s friend, and his house. Out of respect for the man, I have. I’ve stayed away, existing in a fog, not knowing which way is up for days, doing nothing but checking my phone every five seconds, fake smiling my way through a stupid dinner with Kelly’s family, and worrying myself sick.

I miss Lotte like … well, there is no comparison other than Mom. Even though I knew it was coming, in those first heinous days after she passed, I kept expecting to hear and see her wrapped in a blanket resting on the sofa, or sippingoolongtea in her favorite chair on the deck, eyes crinkling into a smile when she saw me lumbering towards her. But of course, she was never there. Never would be again.

Every second of it was hell. Heartbreak after heartbreak until my thick brain caught on and accepted that she was really gone.

That’s where this is different. Lotte is still here.

Still my Little D.

Tonight, the second Quinn’s eyes met mine across the packed post-game media room, I knew exactly what her unsubtle and sideways head jerking meant - the coast is clear. It’s now or never.

GO.

With the high of another win fueling our collective stupidity, the whole team helped me escape unnoticed. Shane and Paul created a diversion involving zippers and genitalia, the speed at which they came up with that plan, will never not be disturbing, or funny. With all eyes on the twin penile emergencies, Brady ushered me out the fire exit and straight into Claire’s waiting Jeep, handing me his beloved Princess Poppy for luck. “Really work the hair,” he insisted, face deadly serious, not a scrap of irony to be seen. “It’ll help, I swear.”

The damn ugly thing is in my hand now, my thumb stroking its pink tuft as I stand beneath the Harris’s blinking porch light. Skipping my shower means I smell like absolute shit, the odor making my own eyes water, but I don’t care. There’s a good chance Lotte will, but I’ll worry about that if she ever opens the door. Claire is on the phone with her now, trying to persuade her to do just that, while pacing the pavement like an expectant father. I can’t hear what she’s saying, but even in the dim streetlight, I can tell that she’s crying. Something I’m man enough to admit doing several times lately.

When Professor Carole was brought in for questioning, details of his long-lost daughter leaked to the media. Seeing her name and face splashed across news articles, gossip sites and TV broke my damn heart. I can only imagine how crippling all this attention would be for a girl who lived to garner none. Especially when it’s linking her to a man not worthy of the crud she scrapes from her shoes. Speaking of attention, Claire regains mine by jumping up and down like a fool. “Hey, dick. Start knocking.”

There’s no time to feign insult. Only time to knock like I’ve never knocked before. For several beats there’s nothing, the pounding of my heart becomes erratic, but when I look over my shoulder, Claire is behind me, giving me the thumbs up as she walks to the car, and it steadies. I’m not a hundred percent sure what made her come around, but I think witnessing me fall apart as Lotte’s world did made her realize just how strong the love between us is.

“How did you know I was here, Noah?” I rear back, not only in surprise and relief, but because Lotte sounds so broken behind the heavy timber door. “Quinn promised she wouldn’t tell you.”

“And she didn’t, little D. I swear.” Unable to stop myself, I lean towards her voice, resting my forehead against the door, “When you weren’t at home or with Marty and Donna, I knew you’d be here. Coach Harris was the one who confirmed it when he threatened to break my legs.”

“He didn’t?” I almost fall on top of her when she whips the door open, only just managing to catch myself on the door jam. After a steadying breath, I look up, and there she is, my Lotte. Smaller than she’s ever appeared, her crystal blue eyes faded and red, hair dancing around her in the breeze her haste created. She appears to have lost a few pounds and looks so fucking sad. But still, just like the first time I saw her, smiling in the glow of pink birthday candles, she takes my breath away.

“He did, and I quote, ‘you might be my number one player, kid, but understand this. That girl needs time. Give it to her or I’ll Tonia Harding you so fast your pretty head will spin.’” Her hand flies up to her mouth as an adorable giggle bursts free, and I’m so happy to know a smile lies behind it. I don’t care that she’s back to covering it up. “I miss you so much, Lotte.”

In a flash, the smile is gone, replaced by a thin, quivering lip. “I’ve missed you too, Noah, but I want you to know, after everything that’s happened, I understand we can’t be together. I’ve withdrawn my application for USF, and I’ll do my very best to ensure your name is no longer associated with me.”

I’m almost fucking speechless.

Almost.

“You withdrew your application? What …? We’re in a relationship, not an association, what the hell are you talking about, Lotte?”

“I’m talking about us. Claire was right. You need to be focused on hockey, not on me and my baggage. Look what’s happened since I came into your life. I’ve made you and Claire fight. Hoodwinked you into skipping training —”

“Look, I don’t know what hoodwinked means but if it’s what I think it is that’s crap. I made myself skip training and it was one session, Lotte. One so I could take you to an appointment.”

“Two appointments. One for the and one for the EEG, and you would have missed another next month if you took me back like you promised. Then there’s the time you’ve put into planning the fundraiser for Marty when you could have been studying or making extra ice time. The whole thing with Ryan targeting you was because of me, oh, who could forget the negative press you’d get being the boyfriend of the daughter of the man who ruined a local legend’s business. You’d be tarred with my brush, and you don’t deserve that.”

“Holy shit, Lotte, babe, you gotta breathe.” I reach out, tug her to me and wrap my arms around her. She’s skin and bone, shaking and crying and I fucking hate it. “Lotte none of that is true.”

“It is.”

“No it’s not. I wish you could see how much you helped me grow. I was so selfish, and blind to so much. I couldn’t see how much Claire was struggling. How she was so overprotective and over involved not because I’m some prodigal, boy wonder type, but because she couldn’t deal with the guilt and grief over losing Mom. She wasn’t trying to protect me from you, she was using me to numb her pain.”

“But—”

“No buts, just listen, okay? You didn’t turn Ryan against me, and it was easy for Carole to recruit him into the brotherhood of assholes because he already was one. Everyone on campus, including Carole, knew Ryan has been a jealous, pain in my ass ever since the C was stitched on my jersey, not his.”

Lotte pushes herself free of my grip, steps back and crosses her arms over her chest. It’s not the time to do it, but I can’t help a quick scan over her body. She has those fluffy pajama pants on, though the way they’re hanging loose on her hips is confirmation she’s lost weight. One foot is bare, the other covered in a crisp white sock I can picture contrasting so perfectly against her golden skin and her hair has twisted into two long braids, the ends of which lay over her breasts.

She’s perfection personified and I want her so badly it physically hurts.

“Even if all that was true, you’re going to be a superstar Noah, and an association with me will only cause you pain and embarrassment.” I shake my head, but Lotte persists. “Our original agreement was that we would fool around until you left for Tampa, and I think we need to rewind, then rewrite that arrangement. This has to be done. We are done.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” she snaps, adding a stomp of her foot.

“You don’t, and your wee piggy nostrils tell me I’m right.” Again, her hand flies up to cover her face, this time landing over her nose, not her mouth and I can’t help but laugh. “God, I fucking love you.” In one sweeping movement I step inside, slam the door with my left hand and pull her back against me where she belongs with the right. “I’m not letting you go, Lotte. Not now, not ever.”

“Do I have any say in the matter?”

I drop my forehead down to hers and take a moment to just breathe her in. Because of how we’re positioned, I feel rather than see the tears trickling down her cheeks. Silently, I kiss each one away, hoping she can feel how much I love her with every tender one.

“He knew, Noah,” she mumbles as she finally relaxes, melting into me the way I’ve dreamed of all week. “He knew I was his the whole time. My own father didn’t want me. Why do you?”

“Because I know you. And I love you. And you’re my person.”

“You’re my person, too. But I don’t know if that can be enough.”

“Of course it is, little one. You and me, will always be enough.”

One day rolls into another and the media circus rolls onto the next scandal, and little by little, bit by bit, Lotte comes back to me. There’s been no discussion about Carole, Lotte refuses to discuss him, or the end of school, and my move to Tampa.

Instead, the future hovers like a dark, ominous cloud in the distance while we gorge on In-N-Out. For now, I am more than willing to enable her denial because the thought of not seeing her every day feels akin to the flesh being torn from my bones.

There’s also been no physical intimacy past kissing, and some heavy petting, but color has returned to Lotte’s cheeks, and her eyes are clear and bright. Sure, I miss the sex, and would do whatever she wanted whenever she wanted this very second because sex is great.

Beyond great.

With Lotte, it’s existential. But having that girl, look at me that way … for that , I would remain painfully celibate forever.

Today is the first Lotte’s felt comfortable to leave the safety of the Harris House and come home to her apartment. To celebrate, she invited me, Brady, Claire and Kelly to join her for dinner. Quinn’s here too, despite patching things up with her parents, she’s accepted Lotte’s invitation to remain her roomie. Selfishly, I’d love to have Lotte all to myself when I’m here, but I’m relieved she’s not alone when I’m not. Which is a lot. In preparation for the Battle, Coach Harris has amped up team meetings and training. For all intents and purposes, we are currently full-time athletes and I fucking love it.

After dreaming of kissing Lotte senseless, I’ve rolled from bed, tugged on my sweats, gagged on a couple of dry as shit protein bars, and battled the first falls of snow to be at Conte by six am. Practice is followed by a proper, edible breakfast with the team, before we split into our lines for an hour of game tape analyses. Every second of ice time is scrutinized, chastised, and steps put into place to perfect it. As a team we work on the final preps for Marty’s fundraiser, then split up for the absolute bare minimum of class time Coach has negotiated us to do before Christmas break. After all that, it’s back to Conte for rehab and conditioning. It’s exhausting, but again. I fucking love it.

Almost seven by the time I make it to Lotte’s, my eyes are heavy and I’m several weary steps from her door when I add a pep to my step. Despite having a key to Lotte’s place now, part of Coach Harris’s conditions on the girls returning home, I knock and wait, heart in throat, palms sweating like it’s our first date.

The door flies open, and there’s my girl, blonde hair swept into a high ponytail, bunny ears in place, the same little black dress she wore to the Frat party is covering her sexy body, and a tray of steaming hot bowl of my favorite chicken broccoli pasta bake is in her hands.

Holy shit. I’ve died and gone to heaven.