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Anticipation settles in my stomach as I round the bend, my feet hitting the pavement hard. I was running late this morning after Levi had a fit. It’s been hard ever since Julien moved out, and then work called and I had to deal with some asshat who thought he could pull some underhanded shit. I will not be scammed into using subpar materials on my braces, thank you very much.

My heart does a flip as the app on my phone announces I hit eight kilometres at a pace of seven minutes and thirty-eight seconds per kilometre. Not bad.

I hope I’m not too late.

“Woo, woo!” Levi exclaims, trying to launch himself out of the stroller. But I’ve secured that thing so tight even Houdini couldn’t escape. Levi snaps his teeth as we come to the same stretch of path that has me getting out of bed every running morning. No matter what, I always try to get to this section at this time.

Because there he is. Today he’s mixed it up. He’s wearing a dark grey long-sleeved shirt instead of his usual black. It’s paired with short black shorts (thank the running gods for men’s running clothes). Even from this far away, I can see his thick thighs flex with each step.

“Woo! Puh!” Levi holds up the little mini hockey stick he got for his birthday—a goalie stick from Adam—as Julien approaches. The smile this man levels at my son may have gotten me pregnant.

Julien waves and snaps his teeth at Levi in greeting, but his expression morphs when his attention shifts to me. I have no idea what my face is doing. Am I drooling? Crying? Who knows. We lock eyes as he comes closer until he’s so close I could reach out and touch him. The air sings between us, and I swear a gust of wind pushes me in his direction. But he stays his course and so do I.

We hold each other’s gaze until he passes by without either of us saying a word.

It’s the same every morning for the last month.

And then he’s gone.

The smell of baked apples and blueberries floods the apartment, making my mouth water. My face is itchy from the flour as I roll out another pie crust, preparing it for the lemon filling cooling in the fridge. Next up is the meringue.

I’ll be able to cut into the golden-brown blueberry pie soon, while the apple pie with its perfect lattice top steams beside it, cooling after coming from the oven. I make a mental note to stop at the store for more vanilla ice cream.

“Leah? ”

The sound of Paige’s voice jolts me from my pie stupor. I hadn’t heard the door.

“In here!” I yell.

She greets Levi, who sits in his booster seat eating lunch, or more accurately, throwing his lunch on the floor. When she glances up, there’s exasperation written all over her face.

“What?” I ask innocently.

“Why are you still baking? How many pies have you made in the last few months?”

She’s not wrong to ask. Everyone I know in Vancouver (with the exception of one brooding goalie) has at least two pies in their fridge, two in their freezer, and another on their counter.

I’ve been baking a lot. So much so I could probably start a bakery. Maybe move to Montreal and open a patisserie ... nope. I stop that line of thinking. It’s not the first time I’ve thought that, and the little girl inside who loves STEM and feminism screams at me for thinking it. Again.

Plus, my research is receiving so much attention that my trajectory is too good to turn my back on now. The prototypes needed more investment than the university could fund, and donors have brought the project to a new level. I’m in charge of a whole team now and things are moving so quickly.

There’s been a lot going on, and baking is my favourite stress release. Isabel called this morning saying our motion for dismissal was denied.

I’ll never forget the sickening feeling in my stomach when Ian served me with papers a week after Julien moved out. That complete spiral into despair had me calling in sick for a week and snuggling my baby as much as he’d let me.

Ian wanted joint custody. Fat chance that’ll ever happen. The judge overturned that request already, but Ian’s lawyer came back requesting visiting rights. It’s harder to deny him that.

His lawyer is a shark, but so is mine. Since Isabel isn’t a family lawyer, she’s been working with someone in her firm who is.

Like I need this stress. He wants joint custody so he can worm his way into my life and into my research. But I’ve patented that baby right up—no one is getting their name on it but me.

I thought I’d done that with Levi since Ian gladly signed away his parental rights, but now he’s trying to refute that. Prove he’s changed, wants to be a dad, deserves a chance.

He doesn’t. I take my frustration out on the delicate pie crust, effectively ruining it. Not to worry, I have another batch ready to go.

“Leah—” Paige chides as I grab the wrapped dough from my fridge.

“I have to finish this one. It’s lemon meringue.”

Even she can’t say no to my lemon meringue. It’s one of my best.

She sighs. “What did Iz say when she called?”

“The judge is willing to hear Ian’s plea, give him a chance, the usual bullshit. She thinks we’ll still be able to win, or at the very least, stipulate supervised visits.”

The thought sends a chill down my spine. I do not want Levi alone with his sperm donor, but I also don’t want to spend any time with Ian .

“If that’s the case, Adam and I can supervise his visits with Levi so you don’t have to.”

I look up, shocked. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

She raises her brows. “I thought we were getting better at asking for help.”

Scoffing, I lift my middle finger and stick out my tongue. Like the mature thirty-two-year-old I am. Thirty-two. My birthday was last month and it was perfect, spent surrounded by every living person I love.

Except for one brooding goalie. We haven’t spoken for three months. Not a text, not a word.

But there are the mornings.

I run five days a week now. Still impossibly slow. The first time I ran a 10k, it took an hour and a half, even with Paige by my side encouraging me. But I also pushed the stroller the whole damn time without stopping. I’ve been running solo too.

Well, solo plus Levi.

I gave up after the first try and called Paige. She wasn’t able to come and sent Adam instead. That was fun—he’s a golden retriever, that man. But he was helpful on the days I did 15k and 18k for the first time.

Until I was finally able to suck it up and go by myself.

I treasure those mornings now. When it’s just me and Levi against the world, like it always has been. Finding those serene moments has been crucial for my mental health these past few months. One moment in particular .

Every morning without fail, I look forward to seeing him. I thought it was an accident at first, or maybe he wanted to talk. But that first day when he passed me, I knew what it meant. He was giving me space while showing me he was still there.

Now I pass Julien on his runs every day. We don’t speak, but Levi always gets so excited. And every time he smiles, I swear I feel my ovaries cry. And when he turns his smouldering gaze on me? If I wore underwear while running, they would fall down at those heated looks. Panty dropping.

We’re both slow, so it takes a while to pass each other, and the buildup every day is both the most excruciating and exhilarating part of my day. I miss it on rest days.

I got dressed in his jersey to go to his first game back, trying to do what he did for me every morning. But, coward that I am, I couldn’t bring myself to go. Still, I watch with Levi at home until he falls asleep and then I’m glued to the TV, waiting for any glimpse of Julien I can get. I’m hopeless.

The lab sent him the newer brace, the one I developed to go underneath his goalie pads. I made sure I knew all the rules and regulations and had Adam and Mateo help me design it specifically for Julien. I hope he’s wearing it.

He’s been on fire the last few games, almost able to stay out on the ice the whole time. The first few were rough—he was subbing on and off constantly—but it seems like he’s almost back to his pre-dislocation self.

I want to send him a pie. I can’t.

“Hello, earth to Leah!” Paige says, humour in her tone .

“Sorry, I zoned out,” I mumble, waiting for the comment that’s sure to make my heart squeeze.

“Daydreaming about a certain goalie?”

“No,” I say too quickly. I don’t know why I deny it since I’ve told Paige everything. It took a while, but finally being able to talk to my sister about my heartache felt freeing. After I got over, or rather, Paige forced me to get over, the feeling of burdening her.

My sister smiles knowingly. “Mm-hmm. So, are you packed?”

“Of course. The better question is, are you packed?”

“Adam is packing for me.”

I choke on my sip of water. There’s no way in hell I’d let anyone else pack for me. Even when I was getting ready to move here, I had to make Paige go away because she was doing it wrong. Paige smiles knowingly. Clearly both our minds went back to a year and half ago.

There’s a knock on the door. Expecting Maggie, I smile and go over to open it, coming face to face with the last person I expected.

Julien.

Julien at my door.

I don’t think my brain is working.

“What’re you doing here?” I blurt out, proving my point.

“Hey, Maggie, you’re a bit early, Leah’s making—” Paige stops abruptly when she rounds the corner to see Julien. “Oh, hey, Jules.”

He rolls his eyes, and the look is so playful I want to cry.

“Hey, Paige, I didn’t know you’d be here.” I haven’t heard his deep, quiet voice in so long, it’s a balm to my ears.

I’m so hopeless. Three months has not been long enough to stifle my feelings towards him. In reality, it’s made them worse. I thought the space would be good, clear the fog of desire and infatuation from my head. As if too much exposure is what made me think I was in love with him.

Turns out, not enough exposure was a torture I wasn’t expecting. Maybe seeing him every few days while running kept him at the forefront of my mind, but I was never any good at lying to myself.

I’m still in love with him.

And I still don’t know if I can have him.

Maybe that’s why I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him. Because there is a possibility he retires and stays here. Though he could still retire and move back to Montreal since that’s home and where his dad lives.

But that small possibility he’ll stay, it keeps the hope alive—and hope is a dangerous thing. Hope has kept my feelings intact and my heart gripping tightly to the chance that I could be with him.

“Can I come in?” he asks quietly, his eyes tracing my face as if he’s memorizing my features. A flush creeps up the back of my neck. I can’t speak, so I nod and step aside so he can come in.

“Woo! Woo!” Levi calls from his seat when he sees Julien, making a solid escape attempt. Paige catches him before he can climb all the way out.

“ Coucou, mon petit loup ,” Julien coos. Seeing this hulking giant melt into a puddle in front of my now two-year-old is not fair.

It’s then I notice he has a present.

“Who told you it was Levi’s birthday?”

He turns and gives me a half smile. “ Adam.”

Of course. Paige has been keeping a healthy distance from the subject, but those Harrison siblings, especially Adam and Isabel, are all over me all the time. Adam is the biggest meddler I know. He gets it from Maggie, but she has more tact.

“Can I?” he asks, gesturing to the gift.

I’m ninety-five percent happy for my son. And five percent jealous. Julien didn’t get me a present for my birthday. I kick myself for thinking the selfish thought. He was respecting my space.

The fact that he’s here for Levi, even though Levi probably won’t remember, is almost too much to bear. Why does he have to be so perfect?

“Let me clean his hands,” I say, automatically putting a hand on his bicep to stop his approach to my messy toddler.

The sound of his quick inhale goes straight to my lady bits. Wow, doesn’t take much, does it? No one has affected me the way Julien does. One sound of his breathing and I’m a goner.

To distract myself from thoughts of Julien, I wipe Levi down and unbuckle him, bringing him to the living room. Levi doesn’t stay on the couch though. He runs over, taking a series of adorable, bouncy little steps to throw himself at Julien.

Julien doesn’t miss a beat, dropping the present and swinging Levi up into his arms.

“Woo!”

Julien chuckles. I wonder why he’s never corrected Levi and tried to get him to say his name, but it’s sweet.

“ Bon anniversaire, mon petit loup .” Julien snuggles into Levi.

Don’t break our hearts, I think to myself .

Levi squirms out of Julien’s arms—the little fool. I’d stay all day if he picked me up. No, Leah, not those thoughts .

“Levi, Julien brought you a present,” I say, threading as much excitement into my voice as I can.

When Julien sits down, I don’t miss the slight wince on his face. The Whales went on to win the freaking Stanley Cup finals last night, on home ice. The first time in I don’t know how many years.

He doesn’t know this, but I was there, jersey on. Paige managed to get me some tickets and two lovely people in the back row were more than happy to trade their places for my behind-the-bench seats.

I didn’t want him to see me and potentially lose focus.

Heaven forbid he blame me for a Stanley Cup loss.

He was incredible. I didn’t care about any of the other players or the puck or the rules. My eyes were glued to the goalie the whole game.

Julien made some incredible saves, but I could tell he pushed it a little too hard. No wonder he’s sore. When his grimace lingers, I clench my hands behind my back so I don’t do something stupid like touch him again.

Levi climbs into his lap and starts pulling at the wrapping paper. Inside is a box, which Julien helps him open. Levi ends up tearing it with his strong little hands, making Julien laugh. The low sound reverberates through me. This man.

Inside the box is a soft, grey, plush little wolf.