Page 23

Chapter twenty-two

Mandy

T he apartment is quiet, save for the low hum of the refrigerator and the occasional rustle of a page as I flip through my bar exam notes.

I'm sitting cross-legged at the kitchen table, still wrapped in Nate’s hoodie, the one that swallows me whole and smells faintly like his aftershave.

The sleeves are too long, and the cuffs are a little frayed, but I love it anyway.

Kira's out, which means I finally have some silence. There’s a mug of tea cooling beside me, and my laptop sits open, paused on an outline I can’t seem to concentrate on. I pick up the next flashcard. Torts. Great.

I read the definition twice and retain nothing.

My phone buzzes. I glance at the screen, expecting maybe a text from Nate. The team had a few away games this week, but they flew home last night. He sent me a text when they landed but I was already sleeping.

But, no, it’s a Facebook notification. Detroit Acers has posted new photos.

Curiosity wins. I tap.

A slideshow from the team’s post-game outing from a few nights ago loads.

Celebrating the win, the caption says, complete with little trophy and fire emojis.

I swipe through a few pictures of the guys at a swanky rooftop bar.

Connor is doing a stupid dance. Parker has a drink raised in one hand and a kid-like grin on his face. James is photobombing someone.

And then I see it.

Nate.

A photo of him leaning against the bar, drink in hand, that cocky half-smile on his face. And beside him, a girl.

Blonde, long legs, tight dress. She’s laughing, one hand on his arm, her body tilted just slightly into his. Like she belongs there. Like she’s been there before.

My stomach knots.

I study the picture too long. It’s not that he did anything wrong. He didn’t even post it. But there it is…the world he lives in. The effortless way women orbit him. The kind of effortless I can’t compete with.

I set the phone down and pull in a breath. Then I open my camera roll and scroll. There it is. The photo from poker night. Me curled into Nate’s lap, both of us smiling like the rest of the world didn’t exist. It should make me feel better.

Instead, it makes me feel foolish.

The phone rings. I jump.

It’s Allison.

I hesitate, but swipe to answer. "Hey."

Her face fills the screen, hair in a sleek bun, brows already raised. "Mandy. Are you seriously dating Nate Jones?"

I blink. "Hi to you, too."

"Don’t deflect. I saw the picture on Instagram. You’re all over the comments. Mandy Fields, future attorney, caught up with some NHL bad boy."

I sigh, sinking back in my chair. "It’s not like that."

Allison snorts. "He’s nice to look at, sure. But come on. Do you know how many girls that guy's been linked to? There were literal Twitter threads."

"That doesn’t mean anything now."

"It means he has a reputation, Mandy. A big one. And you’re just starting your life. You worked so hard to get here."

"And I’m not throwing that away."

"You say that, but relationships like this... they don’t end well. They end in heartache."

I press my lips together. "You don’t know him."

"I know enough. He’s a hockey player, Mandy. And not the wholesome team-dad type. He’s the tattooed, fan-favorite defenseman who sleeps around and gets in fights."

"He’s also the guy who checks on me after late nights, who lets me study in his apartment because mine is too loud, and who made me pasta when I forgot to eat."

Allison frowns. "Even so, don’t lose sight of your future for someone who probably doesn’t even see one with you."

That one lands too hard.

I go quiet.

"Mandy, I’m not trying to be mean. I’m your sister. I’ve seen what guys like him do. They make you feel like you’re the only one until they don’t."

"This isn’t about you and your ex."

She flinches.

I regret it instantly, but I’m too wound up to take it back. "I’m not you, Allison. I know what I’m doing."

"I hope so. Just... be careful. Please."

We hang up soon after, the air brittle with tension.

I stand in the middle of the kitchen, my tea now cold, my stomach churning.

The flashcards are still scattered across the table, but I can’t even look at them.

Instead, I pace.

Around the kitchen. Down the hall. Back again.

Her words echo louder than I want to admit. And worse, they dig into cracks that were already starting to form.

I want to believe this thing with Nate is different. That he sees me. That I’m not just another face in the crowd.

But what if I’m wrong?

What if I’m just late to a game everyone else already played?

Kira walks in with a few of her coworkers, all chatting and laughing as they drop their bags by the couch.

"Hey, Mands," she says, toeing off her boots. "Meet Tara, Steve, and Jen. We’re gonna watch a movie and yell at the plot holes. You in?"

"Nice to meet you guys. Sounds tempting, but I’ve got a date with constitutional law."

Tara laughs. "Oof. You’re hardcore."

"Or just slowly dying inside," I reply with a shrug.

Kira gives me a look but doesn’t push. "We’ll keep the volume low. Text me if you want popcorn."

"Thanks, but I think I'll just go next door to study. See ya later."

I grab my bag, stuff the flashcards in, and sling it over my shoulder.

I need to study.

But more than that, I need to see him.

Even if I don’t know what I’ll say when I do.

***

I wonder if he’s home. I knock gently on Nate’s door. It opens almost immediately.

He’s fresh from practice, a faint sheen still clinging to his skin like he just got out of the shower. He’s in jeans and a fitted tee, and his whole face lights up the second he sees me.

Then dims.

"Hey," he says, voice a little more cautious now. "You okay?"

I force a smile and lift my bag. "Just tired. Long day."

He steps aside to let me in, closing the door behind me as I walk straight to my study room. I turn on my lamp and I can still smell the cinnamon candle I burned last time. I unload my things in silence, sit down, and start arranging my notes with robotic precision.

"You want anything? I’ve got hummus. Crackers. Leftover pasta. That weird trail mix you pretend to hate but always eat."

I glance up briefly. "I’m good. Thanks."

He leans against the doorway, watching me.

I flip over a flashcard.

"You’re really in study beast mode tonight," he jokes, trying to cut the tension with a smile.

"The bar isn’t going to pass itself."

He walks over and kneels next to my chair, resting a hand on my knee. "How about kiss hello? I missed you.”

When he leans in to kiss me, I turn, pretend I’m reaching for my pen.

The moment passes. Awkwardly.

He says nothing, but I can feel it: the confusion, the quiet disappointment.

Still, he doesn’t push.

And I can’t concentrate.

My mind is a spinning reel of social media comments, Allison’s voice, the blonde in the photo, and the way that woman at the meet-and-greet looked at me like I was temporary.

Like I was irrelevant.

I stare at the same paragraph for fifteen minutes.

After one hour, I pack up and try to leave.

Nate is at the kitchen table going through mail. "You done already?"

"Yeah. I should get back. Early start tomorrow."

"You sure? We’ve barely…"

"I just need to be in my own space tonight."

He stands, watching as I zip my bag. "Okay. Want me to carry your bag over?"

I shake my head. "It’s fine."

I sling the strap over my shoulder, move toward the door.

"Night, Mandy."

"Goodnight."

No kiss. No hug.

He stays in the doorway as I walk down the hall.

I close the door behind me, press my back to it, and exhale shakily.

I don’t know if I’m overreacting... or waking up.

Twenty minutes later, my phone lights up with Nate’s name. I hesitate, but answer.

"Hey," I say quietly.

"You in your room?"

"Yeah."

There’s a pause. Then, more gently, "Are you okay?"

I close my eyes. "I don’t know."

He sighs. "Mandy... talk to me. Please. You’ve been off all week...when I was away and we talked on the phone, and you barely looked at me tonight. Did I do something?"

I swallow. My throat tightens. "It’s not something you did. It’s everything around you. Around us."

"What does that mean?"

I sit on the edge of my bed, fingers twisting the hem of his hoodie.

"I saw the pictures. The ones from the team night out. The girl who looked like she belonged on your arm. I heard what that woman said at the meet-and-greet. I heard my sister’s voice in my head saying I’m an idiot for thinking you’d want me for real. "

"Jesus, Mandy—"

"I’m not done."

He goes quiet.

"I’m trying so hard not to let it get to me, but I don’t know how to live in your world. I don’t know how to keep pretending it doesn’t sting when people look at me like I’m a temporary fix. Like I’m a bookmark until the next blonde in a tight dress smiles at you."

"You’re not temporary. You’re it. And it's fucked up that you're down the hall thinking otherwise."

"But they don’t know that. And honestly? Some days I’m not sure I do either."

He’s silent for a long beat. "Mandy, you’re not some random girl in a picture. You’re the one I think about during every away game. The one I want next to me when the world shuts up. I know I haven’t said it right. Or enough. But damn, I should’ve seen this coming."

My eyes sting. "That’s the problem, Nate. You didn’t know. And I didn’t want to say it. Because the second I do, I feel like I’m the clingy girl in a hoodie asking too much."

"You’re not clingy. You’re mine. And I want you to say everything. Even the hard stuff. Especially the hard stuff."

I blink back the tears. "Then prove it. Because I’m not the girl who chases. I never have been. I never will be."

"You don’t have to chase," he says, his voice low. "I’m already running toward you."

I huff out a shaky breath. "Yeah, for now you are..."

His voice sharpens. "What the hell does that mean?"

I hesitate. "I don’t know. Just... that maybe this is easier for you than it is for me."

Silence stretches between us. Heavy. Awkward. Not like us.

Finally, he says, low and tight, "Yeah? Well, it sure as hell doesn’t feel easy watching you pull away like this."

I have no answer to that. Nothing that makes it better. So I just sit there, hoodie wrapped tight, and let the uncertainty scream between us louder than anything either of us said.

"I'm going to study now, Nate."

He exhales, quiet for a second. "Okay. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

I hang up. The screen goes dark, and the distance between our apartments suddenly feels bigger than a hallway.