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It’d been a month since Mer’s accident. I was still playing up in the NHL and it looked like I’d be with them the rest of the season.

The first weekend we didn’t have a game, I boarded a flight back to Michigan. I needed to face her, to see if she was alright, and to fight for her.

When I touched down in Detroit, I rented a car and drove like a madman over to her apartment, but it was empty.

The only other place I knew to check for her would be Centre Ice.

I stalked into the rink holding flowers, but I halted as soon as my eyes landed on her.

At first, I wasn’t sure it was really her. She was wearing baggy clothes– a gray hoodie and sweatpants. Taking in her crutches was devastating, but seeing the bags under her withdrawn eyes was worse. It’s like her bright light had gone out. It’d only been a few weeks, but it looked like she’d been through a war.

She was talking to her coaches, and then Andy walked up from the locker room hallway.

Seeing him lit a fire in my system. I was on alert, ready to attack.

But then… His gloved hands went to her shoulders, he was saying something to her. Then he hugged her. When he pulled back, he kissed her head. He held her face and talked down to her… like he… Like he loved her.

It felt like the floor had been ripped out from under me.

So… that was it then? He was the reason she screamed at me to leave her alone? She moved on and cut me out?

I told myself I was jumping to conclusions. I sat there waiting for her to push him away, to recoil, to show any signs that she wasn’t with him.

But she didn’t.

And then I saw everything in a different light.

The way she spent the last year coming to his defense, no matter what he said or did.

The way they skated together so fucking romantically.

The way they held hands before they skated out to compete, like they needed each other to be able to stay grounded.

I needed to get out of there before I exploded.

Breathing heavy, I tore out of the rink and threw the flowers in the trash.

She was with him.

For real.

It’d been happening for a year. I was just slow on the uptake.

I couldn’t take standing there where all our memories surrounded me.

Stalking across the parking lot, Hans, who was taking the trash out, caught my eye. Hopefully he’d keep his mouth shut about seeing me.

I flung the rental car open and plopped down before slamming my hand against the wheel multiple times.

It took several minutes before I could actually think.

This wasn’t my fault, was it? Maybe she was mad I left her when I got called up? But she told me to leave. Maybe she was still furious with me about calling her mom? I broke her trust, but I had to. I had to help her. I couldn’t be sorry about that… right?

I wasn't sure about anything anymore.