Page 16

Chapter sixteen

Mandy

N ate’s apartment smells like garlic and roasted tomatoes when I walk in, but not even the promise of takeout can cut through the knot tightening in my chest. My bag slips off my shoulder and hits the floor with a thud that mirrors the headache pounding behind my eyes.

He's leaning against the kitchen counter, sleeves pushed up and a faint sheen of post-practice fatigue still on him. He grins when he sees me. "Hey, Little Fields. Saved you the good eggplant parm."

I nod stiffly. "Thanks."

He pauses mid-step, reading me in that way he does. "You okay?"

I force a smile. "Long day."

He peeks into the takeout containers on the counter. "Well, the food’s hot, the beer’s cold, and the study room has your name on it."

I walk toward the kitchen, stiff and exhausted, my limbs dragging like they’re underwater.

He watches me for a second, then says lightly, "You know, you’ve spent more nights here this week than your actual apartment. Should I start charging rent?"

I freeze.

It’s meant as a joke. I know that. But the fuse in me is already lit.

My head snaps up. "Is that your way of saying I’m around too much? Because if I’m suffocating you, feel free to say it without the sarcasm. Or take the friggin puck away from your front door and I won’t come in."

Nate’s eyebrows shoot up. "Whoa, Mandy! No. That’s not it."

"God, do you even take anything seriously? Or is it all just jokes and easy nights and hockey practices that don’t require real life?"

He blinks. "Okay. That’s not fair."

"Yeah? Well, neither is the bar exam! Or my job, or my family’s constant expectations! Or trying to be perfect all the time while pretending none of it’s crushing me."

He takes a step closer, brows pinched. "What the fuck, Mandy? It was a joke. I like you being here. That’s all it was."

"Then maybe try acting like it means something! Or don’t."

His jaw tightens, but he stays calm. "It does. Mandy, you know I’m into you. But something else is going on right now. So talk to me."

My hands are already shaking. I grab my bag. "I need air."

"Mandy—"

"Don’t. Please. Just... let me go."

I’m out the door before he can stop me, the hallway spinning. I barely register the elevator ding or the streetlights flaring against the night sky. My lungs feel tight. My eyes burn. I start walking, no destination in mind, only the ache in my chest pushing me forward.

A few minutes later, I hear footsteps behind me.

He’s not calling my name. He’s not chasing.

He’s just... there.

Silent. Steady. A few paces back.

I walk a block. Then another. Then turn toward the quiet side street that leads to the benches overlooking the river.

When I sit, he doesn’t speak. He waits...a few feet away.

The silence stretches until I can’t stand it anymore.

"I’m scared."

My voice cracks, brittle and broken.

He sits beside me, careful not to crowd me. His presence is warm and grounding.

"Of what?"

I stare at the rippling water. "Of failing. Of not being good enough. Of becoming someone I don’t recognize just to meet everyone else’s expectations."

He doesn’t answer, so I keep going. "My parents don’t say it out loud, but I can see it. They want another success story. Allison was the wild one. Now she’s the married one, the settled one. And I’m the one who’s supposed to make good on everything. But I feel like I’m drowning."

My hands shake in my lap. "And when I’m with you... it feels good. Too good. Like I’m forgetting the pressure. Like I’m losing myself in you. And I’m scared that one day I’ll wake up and I won’t know who I am anymore. Just a player's girlfriend. A footnote. A notch on his belt."

He’s quiet for a long moment. Then he says, voice low but fierce, "You really think I see you as a notch on my belt? That’s messed up and ridiculous... and insulting."

I close my eyes. "I guess not. I just know I can’t afford to lose myself. Not when I’ve worked so hard to get here."

He shifts beside me, and I feel the heat of his hand as he gently touches my knee. "Mandy. Look at me."

I do.

His voice is low and raw. "I don’t want you to disappear into me. I want to stand beside you. To watch you become whoever the hell you’re meant to be, and cheer so damn loud when you do."

Tears flood my eyes. He doesn’t flinch.

"You think I’ve got it easy. That hockey is just skating and scoring and no stakes. But I’ve been traded. Injured. Dropped into cities where I don’t know anyone. And you know what scares me the most?"

I shake my head.

He leans closer. "Never having something real to lose."

My pulse kicks up hard.

"I’ve never had someone I was terrified to screw things up with," he says. "Until now."

The tears spill over, hot and silent.

He doesn’t move to kiss me.

He just cups my cheek and brushes a tear away with his thumb.

"You’re not alone in this. Not anymore."

That’s what breaks me.

I press my face into his shoulder and let myself cry. For the pressure. For the fear. For all the ways I’ve been trying to be strong for too long.

He holds me. Quietly. Steadily.

No jokes. No lines.

Just him.

Just Nate.

When I finally pull back, my head feels clearer.

We sit there, the distant rush of traffic filling the quiet.

"I’m sorry," I whisper.

"Don’t be. You’re allowed to hit a breaking point. I’d be more worried if you didn’t."

"Why did you follow me?"

"Because letting you walk these streets alone would make me a damn idiot, and I'm not that guy."

I smile, just barely. "Again, you’re not what I expected."

"Good. I plan on keeping you on your toes."

"Mission accomplished," I mutter.

"Careful," he says, grinning, "you keep poking the bear like that, and he may bite."

"That a promise or a threat?"

He leans in a little, voice low. "You tell me."

I roll my eyes, but my heart isn’t quite ready to slow its rhythm.

"You always this charming after a fight, or is this a special edition?"

"Only for you, Little Fields. You’ve got me pulling out my best material."

"Tragic. That was your best?"

He gets up and steps in front of me. "Nah. My best is reserved for when you stop dodging what’s right in front of you."

I smirk, playing it cool. "I don't know what you're talking about."

He lets out a low laugh. "Yeah? Well, you're not exactly subtle, and lucky for you, I don't stop until I get what I want."

And somehow, with that stupid cocky smile and the heat still simmering in his gaze, I know he means every word.

He pulls me up and we start walking again, slowly.

This time, I let our shoulders brush.

Neither of us speaks much. We don’t need to.

When we reach our building, he stops.

"You okay to go in?"

I nod. "Yeah."

We ride the elevator in silence, his arms wrapped around me like he’s holding something fragile. When the doors slide open on our floor, I step out first and say quietly, "I’ll just grab my bag from your place. I think I need some space tonight to relax and not study."

He nods, searching my face. "At least eat something first or take some of the food. You must be starving."

I nod, softening. "Okay. I’ll grab something. Thanks."

As I head to the bathroom to splash water on my face, Nate disappears into the kitchen. By the time I return, he’s already packed up a plate of eggplant parm and garlic knots, tucked neatly into a to-go container.

I take it from him, our fingers brushing.

"Thanks," I say, voice soft.

"Anytime," he says. "Get some rest."

***

Inside, the quiet of my apartment feels different.

Not empty.

Not lonely.

Just... still.

And for the first time in weeks, I let myself believe that maybe I don’t have to do this alone.

Maybe I’m not losing myself.

Maybe I’m finding a new version of me.

One who can be brilliant and brave, and still have someone standing beside her.

Maybe he’s the anchor.

Maybe I’m enough.

Even when I break.